#i want someone to hug andrea when she finds out her son is missing

[howtosingit]

The silver lining to all the fandom bullshit, for me, is that I came out of 4x03 loving both TK and Carlos a whole helluva lot more than I ever have... and also seeing the ways, across 4x01 to 4x03, that they love so fiercely - both each other and others - with their whole fucking hearts... and knowing that loving that hard, that intensely, means that it’s never perfect because it’s so easy for emotions to make things messy and complicated when it consumes you like that... but I’ve always said that I could go through any angst with these two as long as the love is still there... and oh boy is it still there. 

I just really fucking love them both, warts and all.

[More under the cut because I have too many thoughts:]

I've analyzed both of their behaviors and I fully get them and appreciate them. I think what it boils down to is that they just have different priorities in 4x03 that aren't fully working in tandem at the moment and it's causing some tension... but it's actually really good tension because what couple has the same exact priorities every damn moment of their lives?? What are they, clones??

And if I'm thinking of only TK's emotions then I'm upset by Carlos's distance for sure... but I also think TK is a lot more than just upset. He's also feeling guilty (and he was before Carlos even knew about the visit, so that guilt was all his, Carlos did not put that on him initially) and concerned for Carlos because he's seeing Carlos behave erratically and that's new for him. Like, TK sees this change in Carlos and he is scared of it because he knows how far Carlos is willing to go for the people he loves, he’s seen Carlos do that for him before. He knows. So, I am reading TK's reactions as a lot more nuanced than just sad/upset - the man is feeling a lot... GIVE HIM A HUG PLEASE AND THANK YOU.

And as far as Carlos... our tragic, compartmentalizing Carlos... when Iris goes missing he pushes so much down just to focus on her - on finding her, on protecting her, on supporting her. He and TK have one argument and he does his best to not lash out... he buries it and shifts his focus. Full-on focus on finding Iris, finding answers. He gets right to work, he’s in detective/cop mode, just like Ronen said. And we know he has his own guilt driving him towards that, especially since he thinks that maybe coming back into her life like this, with the divorce and with TK, has fucked up her stability. He remains super focused on the s*x doll call because when he comes into the call it is literally in response to the missing person alert - unlike the 126, this call is tied to Iris from minute one for him... and then when he has Iris back he's still just focused on her because she is not doing well. But he's not ignoring TK completely this entire episode as I've seen so many people claim... he literally calls TK to give an update about Iris... he's concerned about Iris and he chooses to talk to TK about it... about whether or not he can believe her like he wants to when all the evidence says he shouldn't. It's the trusting his gut thing all over again... but this time it's trusting his gut to trust Iris... but he still calls TK to talk through that. And it’s not so that he can further blame TK for it either - that blame and guilt is still very much coming from TK himself, and if Carlos is doing anything wrong here it’s that he’s not reassuring TK that he’s blameless... and, like, I get that? Because Carlos also isn’t feeling blameless so maybe he’s thinking it’s both of their faults, that they did this to her. (Not correct, not rational, but understandable, at least to me.)

And then the final call that he makes... I love that the scene starts with his attention on the house... he clearly wants to go right in and get to work... but he pauses and calls TK... and sure he lies to him but that's because he's doing something he knows he shouldn't and he doesn't want to be convinced not to... which is understandable, too, I think. He would’ve lied to anyone in that moment. But he also doesn't want TK to worry when he doesn't come home so he calls and at least gives him a little bit of relief... and yes it's a lie but like... we knew Carlos was gonna be irrational this episode... he doesn't ALWAYS do the right thing. So it's a lie but it at least it gives him time to do what he wants to do AND it - in his mind, though he is wrong - will help settle TK worries.

I don't know... I'm just not mad about all of this. I actually think 4x03 was an incredibly strong episode (the Carlos plot only though). I mean those scenes with Iris... y'all I'm still losing my mind over them. Their friendship is so beautiful and you can clearly see how they were each other’s whole world at one point in time. I love seeing a Carlos that breaks the rules and does the wrong thing because my god I don't know a single person who doesn't fuck up every once in awhile... but he does it out of LOVE, he does it out of his NEED to help, to protect, to be there for the people he loves. Like, how the fuck am I supposed to hate him for that? (Spoiler alert: I’m not gonna and you can’t make me.)

I think if you’re THAT mad at Carlos, it’s because you’re not even trying to understand him in all of this... you’re seeing the POV that the show is giving us (which for the Tarlos of all of this is clearly TK, that’s why we got the talk with Tommy) and you’re not even trying to analyze the rest of the story. And, like, I’m not here to tell you you have to, but I think you’d find this a lot more enjoyable if you at least tried to see where all the characters are coming from. And you might still be frustrated with Carlos - he’s frustrating, hallelujah! - but you’d also realize he’s not the fucking devil. He’s just an imperfect man with a too-big heart stuck between a rock (tunnel) and a hard place (a shovel). And I’m so excited to see the LOVE that he and TK have for each other SAVE him (and them). IT’S. STILL. ALL. ABOUT. THEIR. LOVE.

Anyway... bring on 4x04, I’m so fucking READY.

[rafael-silva]

we remain: a tarlos fic

Missing scenes from 2.12. Takes place after Carlos and Gabriel’s phone call. 

*

“He on his way?”

Carlos nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard him sound so upset before.”

Gabriel’s arrival after the fire leads to him taking Carlos and TK home, where Andrea is waiting for them with some much-needed motherly comfort. Reeling from the fire and its damage, Carlos feels heavy and lost. He leans on his boyfriend and TK is there to catch him. Carlos comes to a realization and with TK’s help and guidance, Carlos finds his footing again.  

missing scenes, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, carlos needs a hug, kisses, sharing a bath, soft tarlos

4.5k | rated T | on ao3

*****

“He on his way?”

Carlos nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard him sound so upset before.”

Carlos had zoned out of the conversation jumping between Judd, Owen, Tommy and Billy as they all stood by the opened ambulance doors. He’d hear TK’s voice whenever the young paramedic would say a word here or there, but Carlos’s eyes kept drifting back to what remained of his, and briefly his and TK’s, home. The stench of smoke and burnt wood hung heavy in the air around him. He almost felt lightheaded as he surveys what little remains of the life he built for himself over the past few years. Carlos feels like he’s free falling, the only thing keeping him from crumbling is TK’s hand in his, strong, supportive and there. Carlos holds onto his boyfriend with everything he’s got, both needing the support and needing to know that TK is really here and next to him.

He looses track of time, but soon, his ears pick up on a worried voice calling from behind, a familiar voice. But it seems so far away, so distant, like he’s underwater and someone is calling for him from above.

Carlos slowly turns around, his hand still clasping TK’s, and it’s then he registers his father rushing towards him.

“Carlitos,” Gabriel calls again, his voice coated with concern and his eyes blown wide.

“Dad,” Carlos whispers, his voice hoarse as he breaks away from TK’s side and takes a couple of steps to meet his father.

“Hey, son,” Gabriel breathes out and wastes no time in wrapping Carlos in a hug.

Exhausted, mentally and emotionally, Carlos falls against his father, closing his eyes as a tear falls down his ashy cheek. He gravitates closer to Gabriel and the older man tightens his hold him.

Carlos can hear Gabriel murmuring words of support and comfort and Carlos soaks it all up. But it doesn’t stop his body from shaking in his father’s arms.

“It’s okay, son, it’s okay,” Gabriel continues with his reassurances, and after a glance towards the ambulance and seeing TK standing near Judd, looking shaken but otherwise unharmed, he adds, “you’re both okay.”

Gabriel’s hold on Carlos doesn’t falter until Carlos starts to calm down. The officer draws in a breath and is about to say something but those words are interrupted by a rough cough tearing through his throat.

Gabriel frowns and he’s the one who pulls back slightly, eyebrows drawn together and closely watching his son’s face as the coughing fit continues.

“Carlos,” Gabriel says once his son can answer, “are you sure you don’t need to be in the hospital?”

“It’s fine,” Carlos replies around a grimace, pausing to suck in some air and swallows against his parched throat. “I got checked out, we both did, and it’s just minor smoke inhalation.”

“Son…” Gabriel tries again.

“We’re okay, dad.”

Carlos’s shoulders are hunched downwards like they were carrying the weight of the world and then some and Gabriel sighs, hating how worn out and tired his son looks. Carlos looks so deflated, so small and it breaks Gabriel’s heart.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, that you both are,” Gabriel expresses, his eyes not leaving Carlos’s. “I was so worried.”

Carlos nods, sniffing. “For a moment in there, I…I thought we weren’t going to make it out…the fire was everywhere, the whole house was…even in the bedroom. We were about to jump out of the window when Owen…” he trails off, his voice breaking. He bites down on his lower lip as fresh tears build in his eyes, as he recalls those terrifying moments. As he recalls the words he stumbled over, the fear echoing as he spoke, thinking it would be the last time he’d ever talk to TK.

Gabriel momentarily shuts his own eyes, his soul shattering at the mere thought of his son not making it out of the fire, and knowing that that was a very real possibility shakes him to his core. And even more so, knowing that he was partly responsible for this disaster, that his actions could have inadvertently caused his son to get hurt or worse, or caused his son to lose the man he loves. Gabriel knows he’s never going to forgive himself for this. His mind drifts back to the frantic call he had received from Owen less than an hour ago.

Gabriel had frowned slightly when the caller ID lit up with Owen’s name. Something stirred in the Ranger’s gut then, telling him that something was wrong.

“Owen,” Gabriel had picked up.

“Gabriel,” Owen replied, his strained voice confirmed Gabriel’s instincts. “Have you heard from Carlos recently?” He asked, forgoing any pleasantries.

The question made Gabriel sit up a little straight, any remnants of fatigue from their long day immediately evaporated from his bones. He took a quick glance at Andrea, who was moving to get into bed next to him, before he answered Owen.

“Not for a few hours…why?”

“Raymond, we know he wasn’t done. Remember what he said? That he’s going to take everything that’s important to me? I thought he was talking to me,” Owen paused and Gabriel heard the sound of the car accelerating.

Dread had begun to build in Gabriel’s gut as he waited for Owen to continue.

“I thought he meant the 126. But the fire at the station wasn’t what he was talking about. At least not completely. Gabriel…I didn’t realize it sooner but he was talking to us both.”

Gabriel’s blood ran cold and his heart dropped into his stomach when Owen’s word sunk in and he realized. “The boys…”

“Yeah, I’ve been trying to reach TK but it keeps going to voicemail.”

“Hold on,” Gabriel said as he turned to his wife. “Call Carlos.”

It was Andrea’s turn to frown, confusion morphing on her face but the urgency behind her husband’s words had her instantly reaching for her phone and calling their son. She shook her head a few moments later.

“Voicemail,” she informs Gabriel, her voice thick with worry now.

“Try again.”

“You’ve reached Carlos, leave a message and I’ll call you back.”

Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut, drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Carlos’s phone keeps going to voicemail, too.”

“I’ll keep trying TK, I’m on my way there now and we called it in,” Owen said.

“I’ll meet you there,” Gabriel replied as he got out of bed.

He turned to Andrea again once he hung up the phone, the feeling of helplessness sinking deeper into his body and he could see his own fear reflected back at him.

He didn’t really know where to begin, but he settled for, “the boys are in danger.”

He wasted no time in getting dressed and driving towards the condo, sending silent prayer after prayer that the boys were okay, that Owen would get there in time. He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until he gets a phone call with his son’s voice on the other end five minutes before he arrived. Relief washed over him, and the surge of emotions was enough to break his usually strong composure, making his hand shake as he gripped the steering wheel.

He breaks from his thoughts when he hears Carlos shakily exhale and a hand goes to cup Carlos’s face, Carlos instinctively leaning into his father’s palm.

“You made it out, son, you’re here and that’s the most important thing. We’ll figure out everything else, okay?”

Carlos nods again and starts composing himself, his hands going to hold at the blanket around him and adjusts it over his shoulders.

Gabriel gently pats his cheek and gives him a sad smile before withdrawing his hand and they make their way over to TK and the others.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Gabriel tells TK, lightly clapping him on the shoulder.

“Thank you, sir,” TK responds, moving back to Carlos’s side.

“Owen,” Gabriel then extends his hand towards the fire captain, “thank you.”

Owen nods and shakes Gabriel’s hand. “It wasn’t just me, though.”

Gabriel then looks at Judd, Tommy and Billy. “Thank you all, truly.”

“Don’t mention it,” Judd replies. “Carlos is family and we do anything for family.”

Gabriel’s heart swells at Judd’s statement and at seeing that there’s a village of people looking out for his son.

Gabriel nods his thanks at Judd before turning to Tommy. “Captain Vega, thank you for being here.”

The Paramedic Captain nods. “Of course, I wanted to make sure the boys were okay for myself.”

“They’re going to be okay?”

“Dad…” Carlos groans.

“This is for your mother,” Gabriel turns to look at Carlos. “She made me promise to make absolute sure that you’re okay, from everyone.”

“They’re okay,” Tommy confirms. “I checked them both over myself, they’re going to be a little tired and weak for a few days, so they have to take it easy,” she pauses to look directly at TK, who shifts on his feet under the attention and leans into Carlos, “but they’ll be recovered in less than a week,” she continues. “They just need to rest.”

Satisfied, Gabriel nods. His eyes move back to Carlos, who’s looking at the few scorched frames that are still standing. Gabriel feels the guilt start to build again, both at seeing the ruined house and the broken look on Carlos’s face. He knows he’ll have to talk to Carlos about this, to tell him what caused this. He’s worried it’s going to cause another rift in their relationship they’ve only started to mend, but he knows that he’d deserve that if it happens. He kept information from his son and his son lost his home, his son almost didn’t make it out. His guilt is only increased at missing the true meaning behind Raymond’s threat. It was right there, right in front of him, but he missed it. He can’t help but wonder if only he had caught it before, if he had realized, maybe this tragedy wouldn’t have happened. Maybe Carlos wouldn’t look so crushed right now.

But he missed it, and it almost cost him his boy. It almost cost his son the man he loves. He’s standing in these ruins and his heart clenches in his chest. Those are things he’s going to have to live with for the rest of his life. And he’s going to do whatever it takes to earn his son’s forgiveness.

Seeing how heavy and worn-out Carlos looks, Gabriel decides to keep an eye on his for the time being, to make sure he’s okay, and here. To make sure both he and TK are okay. It’s the least he could do.

Feeling his father’s gaze, Carlos turns to look at him and Gabriel responds with placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you ready to go?” Gabriel asks.

Carlos’s breath hitches a little, looking back at the house and then at TK. He knows there’s nothing to be done, the house is gone and he can’t do a single thing about it.

Besides, what remains of the house is still swarming with firefighters so he can’t go back in even if he wanted to. But still, it feels like his feet are nailed to the ground and he can’t move an inch, fixated on the burnt ash lying ahead of him.

TK appearing in his line of sight breaks Carlos out of his haze.

“Babe,” TK starts, both hands going to hold Carlos’s face. He caresses Carlos’s cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, not breaking their eye contact.

Carlos focuses on TK, on his green eyes that stand out against the black ash painting his face, and it helps calm the officer.

TK suppresses a cough before he continues. “I think you should go with your dad,” he voices. “I know being close to your parents tonight will help, baby. And I’m sure your mom wants to see you. I’ll be fine, I just want to make sure you’ll be okay.”

Carlos shakes his head at the implication that he and TK would be spending the night apart. It’s true, he knows being close to his parents will help him and his parents feel a little better, but he can’t be away from TK, not right now, not when he’s still picking up the pieces of his broken heart, when he can still feel the smoke getting thicker around them, when he can still feel the dread in his gut at the realization that this could have been the end for him and TK. Not when the fear is still coursing through his veins and the roar of the fire hadn’t completely quietened in his ears.

Carlos knows TK doesn’t want to impose and assume he can go home with Carlos to Gabriel and Andrea’s. He knows TK wants to give him what he needs. But the bottom line is, he needs TK. He won’t go anywhere without him.

Gabriel picks up on Carlos’s hesitation and jumps in. “TK is more than welcome to come with us. And he’s right, your mother is eager to see you, son. And I know she wants to make sure that TK is okay, too.”

Carlos relaxes ever so slightly at that, a little of tension in his shoulders fading away. He swallows and nods. Being apart from TK right now would have felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest.

With a look between TK and Owen, TK’s eyes saying I can’t leave him and a nod from the older man, it’s decided.

“I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here,” TK promises and wraps Carlos in a hug, holding him just like he had earlier.

Carlos buries his face in TK’s neck, and underneath all the soot and sweat and ash, he could still smell the scent that is TK and it helps soothe his hammering heart.

“My phone, well,” TK tells Owen after he and Carlos separate, gesturing to the nearly empty space behind them. “I’ll text or call from Mr. Reyes’s phone.”

“Okay, son,” Owen nods, making a mental note to get TK a new phone and pulls him into a hug. “Take care of each other.”

With quick goodbyes to Owen, Tommy, Judd and Billy, the three men walk to the Ranger’s truck and climb in.

Carlos doesn’t have the energy to look back, but he steals a glimpse of what was once his home through the right side mirror. His heart feels heavy in his chest as the remaining structure gets smaller and smaller, eventually disappearing out of view. And it’s just then, it truly sinks in that almost everything he’s built for himself, is gone.

He sighs, leaning his head back against the headrest and closes his eyes. He feels the pull of sleep but there’s still residual adrenaline pumping through his veins, keep him on edge. He settles for resting his eyes and hopes it will ease the sting from the smoke.

The drive to Andrea and Gabriel’s house is spent in silence. Carlos only opens his eyes when he feels the truck slowing and comes to a stop a few moments later, followed by Gabriel turning off the ignition to indicate they’ve arrived.

Carlos takes a moment to look at his parents’ house through the window before moving to get out of the truck. The front door is torn open and he spots his mother quickly walking towards him before his feet hit the ground.

“Ma,” Carlos whispers and a second later, he’s being held in his mother’s embrace.

“Oh, Carlitos,” Andrea sighs, taking on most of Carlos’s weight as he slumps against her.

There’s a considerable height difference between them, Carlos having to lean down to hug his mother, but in this moment, in Carlos’s current state, he feels like a small boy in her arms as he further curls against her and she feels like a giant holding him close.

She doesn’t let go of Carlos, a steady arm on his back, but she extends her other to TK when he appears behind her son. He reaches out to her, their hands connecting and she gives his hand a supportive squeeze, which TK responds to with a nod. He has missed a motherly touch.

“Let’s get you boys inside,” Gabriel’s voice breaks the silence, noticing how Carlos and TK are standing on wobbly legs.

Andrea nods and reluctantly pulls back from Carlos, her eyes still glued to his face and her heart breaks some more at noticing the black botches littering his skin and the redness sitting inside his eyes.

“We’re okay, Ma,” Carlos reassures her, his voice still scratchy and low. He gives her the best smile he could muster, although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

She nods again and returns the smile, unshed tears shimmering in her brown eyes. “Come on, like your father said, let’s get you inside. I made some soup and fixed up your old room for you boys,” Andrea announces as she leads the men inside.

Carlos is engulfed with memories of his childhood as soon as he walks through the door. He feels his heart lighten a little and TK was right, being here does offer some comfort he so desperately needs.

TK immediately senses that through their cosmic connection, and squeezes Carlos’s hand. Carlos glances over his shoulder and gives TK a small smile.

“I knew you’d be coming here,” Andrea continues. “Call it mother’s intuition, but I knew.”

Carlos nods and looks back at TK and they have a silent conversation then, their eyes meeting and speaking a thousands words and thoughts through brown and green gates. Concern, reassurance, love, all radiating between them, an invisible string always connecting them.

“There are some fresh towels on the bed, and I’ll reheat the soup so it’s ready when you’re done cleaning up and getting changed.”

“Thanks, Ma,” Carlos gives Andrea another hug, drawing strength from her.

She kisses his cheek when they separate and then moves to hug TK. “Thank God both of you are okay.”

Andrea and Gabriel watch as Carlos slowly leads TK up the stairs and only when they disappear down the hall does Andrea turn to her husband.

“I’d feel better if they stayed here for a few days,” she says.

Gabriel nods. “Me too.”

“They’re shaken, but they’re going to be okay, they have each other and they have us and Owen, TK’s team…it’s going to be okay,” Andrea expresses.

Upstairs, TK follows Carlos into the room and closes the door behind them. Carlos takes TK’s shock blanket and discards both blankets into the laundry bin next to the door. With a heavy sigh, he drops on the edge of the bed, leaning forward and places his face in his hands.

TK wants to look around the room, to catch glimpses of Carlos’s childhood and teen years in the books and comics lined up on the shelves, in the posters hung on the walls, in the certificates proudly framed and the medals and trophies neatly organized together. But he pushes that to the side for now, he can do that later. Right now, Carlos needs him.

TK moves towards the bed and sits on Carlos’s left. He wraps an arm around Carlos’s hunched shoulders and draws him close, the officer easily going with him. Carlos removes his face from his hands and settles against TK’s chest, closing his eyes when he feels the kiss TK drops to the top of his head.

Carlos’s hair smells of smoke and ash but TK can smell his boyfriend’s mint-scented shampoo underneath it all. In more ways than one, that mint scent has become TK’s home.

There are no words to be said, not really, so they just stay like that for what seems like hours. TK holding Carlos, running a hand up and down his arm while Carlos listens to TK’s heartbeat as it echoes against his ear, strong and steady. And in its own way, this moment says everything that needs to be said.

TK is the one to break the silence.

“We should get cleaned up, babe,” TK whispers, not wanting to completely shatter the quiet. “And then we’ll have some soup and we’ll sleep.”

Carlos untangles himself from TK but remains close to him, their thighs and sides still touching. He knows sleeping won’t be easy, that there are likely a few nightmares awaiting in the dark, and he knows TK knows that too, but he doesn’t voice it. Instead he nods, eyes drifting to the towels next to them.

“Don’t worry about those, I’ll get them,” TK says, breathing through the urge to cough but a couple of cough escape through his lips. “Do you want to shower alone or together?”

“Together,” Carlos immediately replies, and a light blush colors his cheeks.

The blush draws a light, playful chuckle from TK, and the sound brings a small smile to Carlos’s face.

“Okay, babe,” TK nods. “That’s what I was thinking, too.”

They navigate to the bathroom hand in hand, hearing a soft hum coming from downstairs as Andrea and Gabriel watch tv. TK closes and locks the door behind them, and they both start to undress. Their soiled clothes meet in a pile on the floor and Carlos’s eyes linger there for a few moments. As far as he knows, this is everything of theirs that survived the fire. A shirt, a hoodie, two pairs of sweatpants, two pairs socks and two pairs of shoes. That’s it. That is what remains of the life he, and then he and TK, had built. It sends a painful pang echoing through his chest.

The sound of the water spray hitting the marble brings him back from his thoughts, his head snapping up to see TK adjusting the water temperature.

He takes TK’s offered hand and they both step under the water, letting it run down their skin and wash away the physical evidence of the fire.

They take turns caring for each other, lathering up shampoo in their palms and running their fingers through each other’s hair as they wash away all the soot and ash and dirt. They brush soft kisses to each other’s body as they go along, kisses to shoulders, cheeks, hands, necks. Little reminders that they’re okay. They melt against each other, needing to know they’re both there, both giving and receiving in every way they can. They step out when the water starts to run clear and it gets a little cool, drying up with the towels and retreating back to Carlos’s bedroom.

Carlos opens the closet and retrieves some of the clothes he leaves there and lays them on the bed. Two pairs of sweatpants, an old police academy t-shirt for him and a similarly old police academy hoodie for TK.

TK gives him a smile when he notices the hoodie.

They change in silence and TK is about to head out but Carlos’s holds his hand to stop him. TK turns to face his boyfriend and moves back towards him.

“I just…I just need a moment,” Carlos explains, pushing out a small cough.

“Yeah, of course,” TK nods. “Whatever you need.”

Carlos hovers by the foot of the bed for a few seconds, shifting his weight between his feet and swallows. His hands begin to shake on their own accord and his head falls forward. TK instantly takes Carlos’s hands in his and applies a reassuring pressure to them, giving Carlos something to focus on and to help ground him.

“Baby, look at me,” TK pleads.

Carlos slowly lifts his gaze to meet TK’s beautiful eyes. He sees tears swimming against the green irises, sees the concern TK is carrying for him, sees TK’s own pain and fear.

“We’re okay,” TK vows. “I know this won’t go away overnight, I know there’s a lot for us to deal with, I know there’s a lot to feel. But I also know that we have each other, and we’ll rebuild our life together. I promise you. I’m not going anywhere. I swear it to you, Carlos, I’m not leaving your side. And everything you need to feel, feel it. I will be here to catch you.”

Carlos blinks, sending a tear rolling down his cheek. “I thought…when I thought we weren’t going to make it, I started missing everything we would be, everything we had yet to do together. I could see it so clearly, a flash of what we’d become together and then it was gone. I felt that loss, I felt the loss of us and it…” he shakes his head, “it hurt so much.”

TK plants a kiss to Carlos’s forehead. “I know, babe, I was scared too, because there’s still so much we didn’t do together and I was terrified we’d never get to do all those things, that it would be over when it’s only just begun for us…but we’re here, we’re alive, and we have each other,” TK wipes at Carlos’s fallen tears.

Looking into TK’s eyes, feeling and seeing his love and his passion, and feeling the love and passion he has for TK flutter in his chest in return, Carlos reevaluates an earlier thought.

Those clothes aren’t the only things that survived the fire. They survived. Their love survived.

They lost their home, yes, but Carlos realizes then, maybe home is a person. And he knows in his heart now that he found his home in TK.

TK cards his fingers through Carlos’s wet curls and touches his forehead to Carlos’s as they breathe together.

TK leans in, brushing soft kisses to each side of Carlos’s mouth and then one to his lips. Carlos moves in for another kiss when TK starts to pull back.

“Ready?” TK asks when they eventually separate after a few more exchanges of gentle kisses.

Carlos takes TK’s hand and nods, feeling the warmth of TK’s touch seeping into his skin.

“Ready,” Carlos replies and lets TK lead them out of the room and down the stairs where Andrea and Gabriel greet them with soft smiles.

And watching the love of his life engaged in a light conversation with his mother as she serves their food, and feeling his father’s reassurance presence at his side, Carlos nods to himself.

His eyes move back to land on TK, who softly laughs at something Andrea said and Carlos’s own lips curl upwards into a smile at the sight.

Carlos knows it’s going to be a tough road ahead, but for the first time since discovering the fire, hope starts to blossom in his chest.

Sensing his gaze, TK turns, easily finding Carlos’s eyes. For a moment, the rest of the house disappears and it’s just the two of them as they exchange the smiles that are reserved only for each other.

TK turns to Andrea when she says something and with his eyes still focused on TK, Carlos thinks, yeah, we remain.

[fandomficsnstuff]

Guardian Angel - Part 5

Daryl Dixon x Reader

(Warnings: the reader goes off on Jenner, so get ready for that XD also time skips again)

You giggled as Glenn groaned at his headache “that’s what you get for drinking so much” you remarked, getting a glare from him that only served to amuse you further. Glenn scoffed at your amusement “it was Daryl who-” you hummed low as you interrupted him “I know, but you’re an adult, you can say no” Glenn groaned again at your response, holding his head in pain. You smiled to yourself as you felt Daryl’s hand on your thigh under the table, and you found Lori’s eyes, smiling at you, but something was wrong, you could see it, you were about to gesture her to leave the table with you when Shane arrived, and instantly her face dropped and you knew something had happened between them.

You tried not to mind as you continued to eat your scrambled eggs, but your eyes kept going to Lori, who gave you a very subtle shake of her head, telling you to leave it, so you couldn’t argue with that, she didn’t want to talk about it, at least not now, so you respected that, and continued to eat your eggs as you enjoyed the feeling of Daryl’s hand on your thigh, a warming reminder of last night, which you could still feel in the rest of your body, a tingly feeling was left between your legs, and judging by the hand that stayed on your thigh, it wasn’t just a one time thing for him either, as he said, he doesn’t just take anyone with him on hunts.

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You stared with wide eyes at Jenner, the noises of the others, Daryl included, trying to break down the security door was like static from an old radio, just there in the background, and without thinking your fist landed in Jenner’s face, something that surprised everyone, “how DARE you! You’d murder these kids?! So what if it’s shit out there and your wife died! Who are you to decide and play God?! You’re commiting murder right now, and so what if the world has gone to hell and that doesn’t matter anymore, so what if we die but you’re willing to kill the kids!? They haven’t even had a chance at life you asshole! They’re children they deserve a chance that’s what children are for, a second chance at this fucked up world! It was shit before the dead started to walk and that ain’t ever gonna change but you can’t just take their possibilities away from them! It’s their lives, and who knows if they’ll grow up to fix all this shit!!” Rick had to hold you back as you screamed at Jenner, who still held his cheek in shock, your body flailing and kicking “let me get him Rick!! He’s trying to kill us and the kids, YOUR kid!” you screamed again, this time feeling a second pair of arms, Glenn, holding you back, and you finally took a step back, still ready to mop the floor with his ass but you held back, realizing that kids shouldn’t see that, even now.

You were so lost in your rage that you hadn’t even realized that Rick had talked to him, and the security door opened, it as first when you heard your name that you turned and saw the door open, seeing Daryl standing there, waiting for you, a fire axe in hand and Glenn tugging at your hand to run. Your feet moved quicker than you thought possible, bolting towards the exit and reaching Daryl, his hand on your lower back as you both bolted towards the exits, but once again, you were trapped. You picked up a chair and joined the others in trying to break a window, slamming it against the glass and even trying with your own body, but nothing worked, it was only when Daryl tackled you and pulled you away from the window that a grenade did the job, Daryl straight up dragging you to your feet and back out the window, groaned as you landed on the grass outside but you didn’t have time to think or react, your feet picking up the pace once again and carrying you to the vehicles, Daryl right behind you as you hid behind a wall of bags of sand, your eyes scanning the group, only to come up with a few missing. You watched in horror as Andrea and Dale barely made it out of there, you quickly got up and ran over to them, helping them get up and run back to the cars just in time for the building to explode, the force of it making you trip and fall, scraping your knee and hurting your ankle even further.

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You held onto Daryl tightly as you pulled up on the highway, your way being blocked by, probably, thousands of cars, abandoned and dusty, like they left in a hurry, whoever owned them. You winced as you got off of the bike and instantly Daryl got off as well, frowning and studying your knee and how you took the pressure off of your injured ankle. You were about to tell him to leave it when you heard your name being called, turning to see Lori waving you over, you smiled gently at Daryl, giving his hand a squeeze as you carefully made your way over to Lori, smiling at her as you finally reached her “what’s up?” you leaned against one of the cars and she smirked at you “so, am I allowed to sing that song yet or…?” you scoffed and rolled your eyes “you can sing it all you want, just watch out of arrows that randomly fly your way” you joked, making her chuckle before noticing your knee “that looks like it hurts, are you okay?” she frowned, bending a bit down to get a closer look, but you stopped her, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze “it’s fine, it’s just a scrape” she gave you a worried look, but ultimately gave up and sighed, leaning against the car alongside you, having her eyes on Carl, “so, how’d you get one?” you frowned as you looked confused at her “what?” you gave her a puzzled look but she just smirked and kept her eyes on Carl “our room was next to yours, apparently” your blushed bright red “oh my god…” you mumbled, burying your face in your hands, making her laugh, “so, how’d you get one?” you glanced up at her again, still confused “get what?” she smirked at you again and nudged your shoulder with hers “a condom” you grew even more red at that “oh uh, I didn’t…” you saw Lori stare at you in shock as you kept your eyes straight forward, looking at her out of the corner of your eyes “but you still-”

“Yeah but… like… he pulled out…” you mumbled, making Lori scoff “yeah so did Rick, nine months later I’m in the hospital with a son in my arms” you glanced at her with part horror, part shock in your eyes, making Lori just smirk again as she moved over to Carl, leaving you to your thoughts, were that woman trying to scare you into becoming a nun?! You glanced to Daryl who glanced back at you, giving you one of his rare, soft smiles that you completely loved. You smiled back and went over to him, but were cut off by Glenn who looked at you anxiously, glancing between you and Daryl “spit it out Glenn, come on” you gave him a reassuring smile but it only seemed to make him more nervous, making you realize that this was probably a tad more serious than you thought, so you moved behind a few cars, standing alone with him “what’s up?” he looked away embarrassed “I-I just uh… I heard you and Lori talking and uh…” you frowned, you knew he wouldn’t spy on you, at least not intentionally “yeah, so?” Glenn sighed like you made everything harder for him “I just-... you know I care about you a-and… I-I just heard and I… what if… what if you and him-... and you… and what about me if-... if it happens?... what am I supposed to do you're like-...” you sighed, you got what he was trying to say, at least you think so, you looked down before back up at Glenn, hugging him a tight hug “it’s okay, it’s not gonna happen, I’ll be okay” he nodded and carefully hugged you back, both of you unaware of a certain archer who had come to check on you as you got out of his view, hearing what you were talking about, a pissed off look on his face as he moved away. You parted from Glenn “if it happens don’t worry, you’ll be Uncle Glenn” you gave him a wink and he exhaled half nervous, half relieved, and it made you chuckle “yeah, sorry I just-”

“It’s alright Glenn, you know how much I care about you and you’re like a brother to me” Glenn nodded at your words before moving away, you moved your way towards Daryl yourself, smiling as you see him by his bike, like he was before. “Hey handsome” you were about to lean in to give him a kiss when he leaned away, making you frown, maybe he didn’t want to be public about it, or maybe he didn’t want you again… maybe it was just a one time thing for him… you looked down before back up at him, he still hadn’t looked at you “hey, is everything okay?” he scoffed almost immediately “I don’t know, why don’t you ask the chinese kid” you frowned even more, you were sure a few wrinkles would have etched their way into your skin by now “what do you mean, Glenn? He’s Korea-”

“Yeah whatever, go to him instead with all your bullshit” you tilted your head to try and get his eyes on you, but he just looked away even more, making you straight up pissed “the hell are you talking about, my ‘bullshit’ ?” you snapped, and finally he looked at you “I fuckin’ heard you, ‘you and him’ and all that!” you scoffed and shook your head “he overheard me talking with Lori, Lori was worried about what we did last night because we didn’t use protection, you asshole! He was just scared that something should happen to me, he’s like a brother to me! Prick...” Daryl’s face visibly softened at your words, and he was about to say something when you just scoffed and went off, trying to find Lori, you needed to cool off and she was pretty much the only one who could help you calm down when you were this riles up, plus you needed to talk to someone about Daryl, and since she already knew, it was ideal.

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You held your breath as you hid under a car, watching the shuffling feet walk by you, your whole body shaking as you had your knife out, just in case, but so far they were unaware of your presence, that is, until one stumbled and fell, landing with it’s face facing you, growling once it spotted you. You couldn’t risk quickly stabbing it to keep it quiet, there were still others passing by and it might alert them, plus you didn’t really have a lot of room to wiggle around in, for now it were content with just laying there, watching you as it grew more aggravated with each second passing, when feet stopped coming from behind you, you took the opportunity, carefully sliding out from under the car, the walker growling and getting up slowly, on it’s way to chase you down, and without seeing another option, you jumped over the railing and slided down the hill, quickly taking off as you heard the walker follow you, unless it broke both it’s legs, it was probably going to follow you to the ends of the earth, just to get a bite, a taste. You pant heavily as you continue running, your lungs burning, and once you’re far enough out you stop, leaning against a tree as you try to catch your breath as quietly as possible, though it wasn’t as easy as you had hoped, and you probably sounded more like a dog in the summer with thick fur, panting and heaving for breath as you tried to listen for footsteps.

After a few seconds you heard some shuffling, turning you saw now more than the one that had chased you, there were now four of them, slowly walking in your direction. You sighed and glanced at your ankle, it had just gotten better and now you had to run again, for the hundredth time without a brake or a possibility to see how bad the damage was. You leaned your head against the tree, closing your eyes and giving yourself a few seconds to gather up your courage before bolting once again, your knife in your hand and your ankle burning, you had no idea where you were headed, you just needed to get away from those walkers, four were too many for you to handle on your own.

[jmblyajones]

Eagles: Wounds 3x5

* 🤔 i just had a random thought. since klara is gonna inherit some major cash, what if she sponsors the Eagles? lmao that would be something

1. Ludde bought Felicia a “finding yourself” book…It’s the thought that counts lol

2. I would say Mats needs to “keep the faith” but that would be if he ever had any. Before Elias even came back while the team was loosing, why did he stay? And with his son coming back, he could at least have a glimmer.

3. Didn’t I say earlier that we were gonna ride the “petra didn’t want me in your life” train?? chile please. Also, is all he heard was that she’s taking his name? she doesn’t even say “my father/dad/sperm donor” she just said that the name belongs to the “other side” distancing herself.

4. THE MUSIC WHEN FELICIA INVITED AMIE IN HER HOUSE + THEIR HUG??! GIRLS NIGHT?! Am I really getting them back rn?

5. That handshake angle was hella weird. I had to pause and rewind and pause and rewind…. Elias is bleeding and sunburnt, this boy is about to fall out. Are they possibly doing a male eating disorder storyline with him? I can definitely see that possibility and it would be a good story to tell, shining a light on boys/men with eating disorders.

6. I knew Jack’s shifty ass was coming back. I hate dudes who smack their gum like smug assholes

7. See Andreas is spitting truth! Felicia will look for any reason to take drugs. Her taking drugs ep. 3 was random. But she has to be the one to decide she doesn’t want to do drugs anymore. She needs professional help. It is asking a lot for a loved one to stick with someone when they are going through something like this especially teenagers and even more when that person doesn’t believe they have a problem. Sometimes, love just isn’t enough and that’s understandable.

Ludde is just not going to tell Felicia about the school until it is too late.. good grief.

8. I’m glad Felicia told Amie that she needs to talk to her mom. Amie doesn’t even know if this man is her father but a step further, we don’t know if what he is saying is the full truth. Nothing like girl chats to gain clarity, huh?

9. This game has got me anxious 🤦🏾‍♀️ Mats is giving some dad advice about being the bigger person. Idk if it was self serving so they win (or at least score 1 goal) but it was still decent advice.

10. Can we get Amie in a wig with some bangs next time?

11. Elias… man what the hell. If you are trying to gun to be the Eagles’s great messiah, retaliation doesn’t gain you points, okay?

12. I am so confused with the school colors lmao. All I see is Ludde and Andreas sitting in their red and blue while everyone around them is wearing yellow and black like they stepped out of a Harry Potter catalog.

13. Elias having mad anger issues… idk it is definitely deeper. I could be reaching but… it’s a symptom of something. I’m so impatient, I need to knooow lmao

14. We all know the reason someone who would be in their prime isn’t actually on the ice playing, so I advice Jack to ZIP it

15. Felicia seeing Jack must be like nightmares from the boogie man

16. Elias needs to go outside. Take a breather, cool the hell down lol.

17. I SWEAR TO YOU GUYS… I SWEAR! I DID NOT SEE ANY SPOILERS AHEAD OF TIME… I was literally taking a RR break after episode 4 and I just thought, who the hell has ass loads of cash that would be willing to spend it on a loosing team (sorry)? Klara just popped in my head. I am so speechless right now 💀 I just thought it would be a funny what if scenario that’s why I put it at the top. 😭 WOW. Klara is just staring dead at Mats with no emotion… Mats is looking like he’s seen a ghost lmaooo. Whew this girl is a messy ass bitch aaahahaha

18. Mats told ole girl “no more suprised” 😂😂

19. EAGLES WON YAAAAAY!!! Haha, ain’t smackin’ that gum no more huh?

20. Jack stopping Ludde in the hallway? Somebody get my man a hockey stick. Looks like Jack missed the love tap Ludde gave him last time.

Not him coming for Andreas… See that’s the problem with people like Jack. He runs his mouth but when someone has hands for them, he presses charges. He is gonna run into the wrong somebody one day, guarantee THAT…..

I’m gagging, they really let Elias move his way to the front of the crowd like he wasn’t gonna try to put hands on Jack?…

You know what, i’m so heated, i don’t even care about the backstory between mats and jack’s father atm. Jack’s boss won’t even take jack away from the whole team or at least tell him to stfu! he should loose his job over his foul ass mouth! (yes, i get the irony)

The Eagles rushing Jack was a moment. Siri, play “Knuck if you Buck” 😇

(i will say, all of them looked wild on camera bro 😂)

21. How did Michael even get Amie’s number?? 🚩

You know… I wouldn’t be surprised if the Eagles were suspended for a game tbh. Idk how hockey works, if the head people who over see the leagues can take their win away? Man, why do eagles’s seasons/episodes have to be so short?

[soniaxdixon]

The New World; Series, Pt 3

okay, two parts in one day but I really just felt like writing. enjoy this part!! 

Okay so this is my first time writing a fic and obviously will be my first series but I’ve just rewatched TWD for like the 17th time and my obsession with Daryl has reached new levels. I hope that it isn’t too shit and that you guys actually read/like it. Thank you in advance for baring with my average writing but I mean, how else will I learn? Anyway, enjoy!

Sonia x

Season 1

Part 3 of ??

Summary: Y/N Grimes is Rick’s younger hot headed sister. When Rick gets shot and falls into a coma, Y/N’s world ends. Y/N Finds herself at a quarry near Atlanta with her nephew carl, sister in law Lori and her best friend Glenn where she meets her new family including the equally hot headed redneck Daryl Dixon. Over time Y/N and Daryl begin to form a friendship, finally allowing one another to open up to someone and maybe finding someone they can actually love.

Words: 1790

Okay, I couldn’t hold out much longer with the whole slow burn thing, something happens in this fic...

Warnings: swearing, a little angst, slight mention of gore.

With your brother, Daryl, Glenn and T-Dogg gone you found yourself struggling to think about anything else other then something happening to them. What if they got surrounded by walkers, what if merle flips and does something to them. Constant ‘what if’ questions rolled through your head as you paced in your tent.

“Y/N!” You heard dale holler

“Hey Dale, what’s up?”

“You’ve been in your tent since they left, wanted to get you out here with the rest of the group, make sure you’re okay.” He said with sincerity.

“Thanks, Dale, I’m all good, don’t you worry. Got any jobs for me to do? I’d like to keep my mind busy.”

“Not really any jobs to do but you’re more than welcome to relax in the RV, I’ve got a couple of old books in there, maybe that’ll put your mind at ease.”

You nodded gratefully and made your way inside the RV, shuffling through Dale’s book collection until you settled on one, reading in the bed until the words began to sling together and you fell into a deep sleep.

You were woken up a while later by Carl gently shaking you. You jolted awake and grabbed your knife when you realised you had fallen asleep for god knows how long.

“Woah! I’m just here to let you know dinners ready.”

You scooted off the bed, stepped out of the RV and walked over to the group sitting around a fire, fresh grilled fish already on a plate for you. You sat next to Lori and nudged her. “I missed dinner prep? How long was I asleep, I should have helped.”

“You must have needed the rest, it was best to let you sleep.”

You nodded as you shoved a giant fork full of fish into your mouth while your stomach growled.

This night was like any other, sitting around with your family, chatting like nothing was wrong in the world, though you found yourself subconsciously searching for the archer who would usually sit across from you, constantly sneaking glances at each other. Your heart rate sped up at the thought of him and then the reality that he wasn’t there set in again, as did the worry. You were pulled from your thoughts by Andrea’s voice.

“Where are you going?”

“I gotta pee, geez, try to be discrete around here” Amy responded earning a laugh from the group.

You went to take another bite of your fish when Amy’s scream filled the air. You threw the plate and reached for your gun as you watched Amy being ripped into, Andrea already running towards her with Jim. Walkers started hastily shuffling out of the trees towards your family as you and the others sprung into action.

“Lori, Carl, you get behind me now!” You yelled over the gunfire shoving your nephew out of dangers way and putting yourself in the middle of it. You aimed at the nearest walker and BANG, it fell, a bullet between its eyes.

You noticed another hobbling towards carol, BANG, another down.

You continued to pace backwards until it was safe to send Lori and Carl into the RV. A walker lunged at you, BANG, now it was at your feet. You turned for a second when you heard Lori scream as Shane shot a biter that was close to her.

As you turned around another one lunged at you as you brought your gun up,

Click.

Your stomach knotted at the sound, you were out of bullets. You pushed against the walker with all your force as its teeth gnashed at your face. You could feel your arms weakening as its teeth got closer to your face, your feet began sliding in the dirt. You couldn’t bring yourself to pull one hand away to get your knife, this one was too big, the slightest move now and you would be gone.

BANG

The walker collapsed on top of you, knocking the air out of you as you went down. Suddenly the body was tossed away and a hand was outstretched. You realised who it was, grabbed his hand and he hoisted you up off the ground.

“Thanks, Daryl.”

He nodded and then proceeded to take out the walkers that just kept coming. You noticed how he shielded your body with his own as the dead got closer until finally, there were none left.

When everything was clear, he stormed off towards his tent without saying a word to you.

You found rick and threw your arms around him

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He mumbled into your hair

“For what?”

“For protecting Carl and Lori.”

“It’s what I do.” You chuckled slightly as you let go of him, your eyes flicking over to Daryl’s tent.

You built up some courage and started trekking towards his tent, stopping suddenly at the entrance and struggling to think of what to say. Before you had the chance to say anything he broke the silence.“Leave me alone.”

You stood there for a second before you shook your head and began unzipping the door to the tent and stepping inside. He stood up from his bed and loomed over you.  “Stupid girl, didn’t you hear what I said? Leave me the fuck alone!”

At this point he was yelling in your face but you stood your ground, getting angrier until you looked up into his eyes, you could see how red they were, he’d been crying, your anger slowly faded.  “I don’t need your fucking pity, get lost.”

He turned, expecting you to leave but instead, without even thinking, you wrapped your arms around his middle and he stiffened at the sudden contact, staring at his bed in front of him, then looking down at your arms that linked around his waist, holding him tight, grounding him. You felt his breath become shaky as he let himself cry which only made you hold him tighter.

When his breathing began to slow, you gently unlinked your arms and he turned to face you, tears staining his cheeks.

“I’m not here to offer you pity, I came to say thank you for saving me. I came to see if you were okay.”

He just stared at you for a second before you carefully reached up and wiped a single tear that was rolling down his cheek, then slowly, you snaked your hands around his neck and brought him into another hug. This time he didn’t flinch, he melted into you, placing his head in the crook of your neck while he let himself calm down.

“M’ sorry I snapped.” He whispered into your neck.

You pulled back and looked into his eyes, the blue being highlighted by his unshed tears.

“You don’t have to apologise, I get it.”

He nodded as his hands found your waist and he pulled you into another hug. This man had never been shown proper affection, he had never shown it to anyone but he so desperately craved it and you understood that, you finally gave him the affection he needed, that he deserved. You stayed like that for a minute before you pulled away, grabbing his hand and leading him over to his makeshift bed, a cot in the corner of his tent with his sleeping bag on top. You sat with him on the end of the bed and finally built up the bravery to ask.

“Daryl, what happened out there?”

He looked at you and struggled to form the words, tears threatened to fall from his eyes again until you reached for his hand and took it in yours.

“He wasn’t there, he ain’t dead but he was gone. Cut off his own damn hand, cauterised it. Tough son of a bitch. We went to look for ‘im but then this kid showed up and started yellin’, some guys took Glenn and we got into this whole thing, thought they might’ve had Merle too y’know. They didn’t. By the time we sorted everything out our damn truck was missin’ so we had to walk back. Thats when we heard the gun shots. Y/N I ran, I ran so fast and ya wanna know why? Because I thought I was gonna lose ya. I couldn’t lose ya too. I don’t know what it is but something inside me goes crazy whenever you’re around. I ain’t good at this type a thing, I don’t know how to explain it but it’s like I need to protect ya and I don’t know why. We’ve hardly talked but when we do it’s like my chest is on fire.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him, you hung onto every word for dear life, like he was reading your mind, like he was reading your emotions. Before you knew it you were pulling his face towards yours, pressing your lips against his, fitting together like a puzzle, like he was the one piece you have been missing your whole life. You slowly pulled away and looked at him, his eyes still closed from the kiss, a small smile gracing his lips, causing you to break out in a smile too.

“Daryl.” His name had never sounded so sweet, he opened his eyes looking deeply into yours as his cheeks flushed red. “That’s exactly how I feel.”

You spoke for a while, exchanging stories of the past. For a man who was so reserved, he seemed to open up to you like you were the only one who held the key to his stories. He told you about Merle, about his mother. He told you about his father, the things he used to do to merle, to him. You didn’t push him, you didn’t ask to see the scars, you simply listened and that was all he needed. The noise of everyone outside had finally quietened and that was your cue that it was time to retreat back to your tent.

“I’m gonna head back to my tent, I’ll see you in the morning.”

He wanted to ask you to stay, he needed you to stay. He felt like that was the only way he could sleep but he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

You wanted to stay, fall asleep on his chest like the many nights you had dreamt of, but you didn’t want to push what had happened. You slipped out of his tent, zipping it closed and walking over to your own. You couldn’t help fight the smile that crept on your face.

Neither you nor Daryl got much sleep that night, replaying the moments that happened, longing for each other in a way like never before.

[trillian-anders]

first blood

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

warnings:  angst, general asshole-ness.

word count: 4.6k  

description: part 3 of 5. how did you become ransom’s glorified babysitter? and why the fuck are you keeping this job? who knows. you hate it, you hate him, but... the money. 

note: tumblr is being super shitty rn so I can only post on mobile, but I really wanted to get this off my desk! will add a read more and properly link later 💕

prequel to the assistant && four christmases, spoiler free loves. 

You have to do this.

You have to do this.

You have to do this.

You don’t think your eyes will ever feel normal again. They were dry and scratchy. There were no more tears to shed. You’d buried your Mom two months ago, but you didn’t know how it would ever feel okay. She did everything for you and Julia. Everything. She worked hard, made pretty good money, allowed you to have a part time job and just focus on school. Julia was in this really nice private school, she played the cello now for fucks sake. She had friends and was talking about maybe starting soccer soon, but after funeral costs and your sister’s tuition the life insurance money was running out.

You had to sell the house.

You’d moved the two of you into a small apartment right outside of Chinatown. Not the safest area, but not the most unsafe either. You’d be fine. You had each other, and she needed you to do this. You had to do this.

For her.

You sat uncomfortably in the cheap office chair, sitting across from a woman with too many papers on her desk, everything sloppily arranged around a couple of potted succulents and a framed picture of her and her three kids, no spouse.

“So your last job was in tutoring?” She asked you. You shifted nervously in your seat, nodding your head,

“Yeah, I tutored a high school student in English and Math.” You needed some water. The cheap pencil skirt and blouse you were wearing made your skin itch. She types into her computer some more.

“So why are you here?” She asked, “Why not continue tutoring?” A few more clicks and then more typing.

“The family I worked for paid me pretty well,” You admitted, “But she’s graduating this year and they didn’t need me anymore, I don’t really,” You cleared your throat, “I don’t really have much job experience outside of that and I need to start making money now… I’ve put out job applications but haven’t really gotten any luck.” Not with the income you needed anyway. The woman nodded. The plaque on her desk said her name is Stacy Chandler.

“Alright, here you are.” A printed page, address, date, and time. A job. Clerical work. Data entry. You have to do this...

-

“How was your last day of school?” Julia sat heavily at the kitchen table, backpack slumped on the floor next to her. She buried her face in her arms.

“I’m never going again.” Came muffled from her mouth. She lifted her head to look at you. The beginnings of puberty. You’d recently gone bra shopping for the first time. Real ones, no more training bras. You’d recently taken her to the dermatologist for her acne, but she’s not good at remembering to put on the expensive creams you bought. What a hard time. You don’t envy her.

“Luckily for you,” You smiled, placing a fudgy brownie in front of her, “You don’t have to go back for three whole months!” She rolled her eyes heavily, taking the brownie and disappearing into her room presumably to sit on her computer until dinner.

She was feeling the absence of your Mother just as you were. You weren’t sure what to do here. You loved your sister and you know she loves you too, but in the last few months it’s just been closed doors and a few parting sentences. Only because you had to work so much. Only because she spent a lot of time at friend’s houses where you’d think she would feel normal for a while. It would help ease the burden of being in your mid-twenties and suddenly feeling like a single mother. Of course you can sleep over at Mila’s house, her family is going to their cabin for the weekend of course you can go!

You didn’t know what to do other than keeping her in school and alive. You weren’t ready for this. But the only other option was your estranged aunt who reeked of mothballs and was constantly asking you if you were married, or dating, or ‘You’re Mother wouldn’t have wanted this’. No. It was very clear that your Mom wanted the two of you to stay together, and that’s how it’s going to be.

This summer she was going to spend with her friend Mila at their family’s lake house. Mila’s mother was a stay at home mom with six kids under the age of 12 and would be planning to spend the summer pintresting activities and projects with them while simultaneously getting out of her stuffy-old 10 bedroom, 8 bathroom mansion. Lucky her. Lucky Julia.

The apartment would be empty without the 12-year-old pre-teen for three months, but Julia has really been looking forward to it. Her bags were packed and ready by the door.

You hugged her tightly in front of Mila’s house, burying your face in her hair, partially not wanting her to go, but otherwise knowing that she’s going to have a better time than you could ever provide her. “Okay, you can let me go now.” She shifted in your arms, trying to pull away.

“Just another minute.” You mumbled, pulling her in tighter. “I’m gonna miss you.” She laughed,

“I’m gonna miss you too.” The two of you pulled apart and you tucked her hair behind her ears, cupping her sweet face.

“I love you,” You said very seriously, “If you ever want to come home just-”

“I’ll let you know.” She was getting impatient, the car Mila’s mom was taking to the lake house, a beautifully large black Range Rover sat packed next to you, they were waiting. “I love you too.” She slowly backed away towards the car.

“If she gets homesick, my husband still comes back every week for work so he can bring her home if need be,” Andrea was her name, Mila’s Mom. “She’ll be fine.” Andy was really nice. She made a lot of the food the two of you had eaten in the early days after your Mom’s death. Her gentle reassurance soothed you slightly. It made driving away a little easier, but it didn’t stop the tears that fell as you entered your apartment, alone. For the first time in a while. You didn’t have to hold it in anymore.

You sunk down against your front door, staring out into your living room, tears rolling down your cheeks in the silence of the home. Dirty shoes lined up against the wall, throw blanket hanging halfway off the couch, dirty dishes from breakfast still in the sink, and somewhere you’re sure under all of it was the will to pick yourself back up.

You just didn’t know if you were ready for that quite yet.

But you did it anyway.

More clerical work. More data entry. More bills going half paid and others being ignored all together. Student loans you didn’t even want to think about from a school where you hadn’t even graduated. Medical bills you didn’t even know where to begin paying back, itchy stockings, and uncomfortable shoes. With every day that passed you reexamined your life. How did you get here?

A new job, a new office. Temp assigned, but you knew who worked here. The building that housed it stood tall against the Boston skyline. Contemporary. You sat comfortably in a cushy office chair. The plaque on the desk read Linda Drysdale, CEO. And you waited.

You hadn’t seen the Thrombey’s, let alone the Drysdale branch of the family, for five months. Zero contact. Joni had talked to you last, thanking you for helping Meg, but also trying to sell you eye cream. “You really should invest in taking better care of yourself.” Which was her kind way of trying to tell you that you look old. Thanks.

You couldn’t imagine what Linda would want you for. You’d been doing some filing, they were transferring all of their documents to digital and hired extra help to do so, you were one of three hired from your particular temp agency, but yesterday she had called you personally and asked you to come in for an appointment today at 3 pm. And here you are.

Waiting.

There was a portrait of her family on the wall. Linda herself sitting in a high backed intricate chair, her husband Richard standing to her right, and to her left was her son, Hugh. He went by his middle name Ransom. They were stone faced, serious looking. This painting seemed ridiculous. If you didn’t know the Thrombey’s you’d think it was there to be ironic, as a joke, a play on what rich families were like.

But they were a rich family, and this is what they were like.

Linda was self-serving. She only ever talked to you when it suited her own interests and as soon as she was satisfied she would quickly direct her attention somewhere else, to someone more important. She used you to get what she wanted and when you served her purpose you were gone. She had no time for anyone, only her father. Anything for Harlan.

Richard was a predator. He was always making an uncomfortable comment about either your body or your face. He stood uncomfortably close at times and liked to settle a hand on the small of your back. He was a well kept man, throwing his wife’s money around like it was his own. He kept a money clip of hundreds in his pocket.

Ransom was a piece of shit. He was a self-centered egotistical asshole who was sure to make your life a living hell every time he saw you. There was always a comment, a jab at your clothes, your hair, the fact that you are poor. He once ‘accidentally’ threw your cardigan away because, “I thought it was one of those fucking rags you dust with, I didn’t want it touching my burberry.” He, like his father, felt predatory. Something about being a rich white man just really got them going, and the money clip with the hundreds… a learned habit.

“Alright,” Linda’s voice came from the doorway, you turned slightly in your seat. She was on the phone, “Well we will send Michael out to show them the properties instead, I’m sure we’ll find something they like.” She gave you a finger, hold on, even though you’d been sitting here patiently waiting for her for close to twenty minutes now. “Okay,” She continued, “Sounds good.” Sitting down in her chair, tapping a few keys to illuminate her computer screen. “Alright now, bye-bye.” She took her phone from her ear, looking down at the screen before placing it face down on the desk and smiling at you.

You knew that smile. She wanted something.

“So, Y/N right?” You nodded, “I see you’re looking for work.”

“Well, I’m with a temp agency right now but-”

“Would you like something a little more permanent?” A permanent job? The Thrombey’s had paid you very well to tutor Meg, better than you were making now. Granted you had only worked 15 hours a week when you were tutoring her, so $20 an hour didn’t seem like that big of a deal, but if they were looking for something, anything full time…

“Absolutely,” You smiled, shifting in your seat, “I’ve had trouble being hired because my-”

“Okay so you’re going to need Ransom’s number, and you’ll start tomorrow.” Your smile dropped.

“Ransom needs a tutor?” You asked skeptically. She laughed.

“No, he needs an assistant.” She gestured towards herself, “I can’t keep telling him when or where to be for family events and he has a fairly active social life so I’m gifting him an assistant for his birthday.” Oh.

“I uhm,” You really didn’t want to work for Ransom. You REALLY didn’t want to work for Ransom. “How much would it…?” You trailed off nervously.

“My father paid you $20 an hour to tutor Meg, yes?” She asked, typing something into her computer, no longer looking at you.

“Yes, he did.” You moved trying to see what she was typing without bringing too much attention to it. She was drafting an email.

“So I’ll pay you the same. Ransom will set hours for you and decide what days of the week he’ll need you and what else he wants you to do,” She waved her hand dismissively, “Cleaning, cooking, whatever.” She scribbled on a post-it before peeling and handing it to you. “Here’s his number and address, you can go over the particulars of your job tomorrow morning.” You opened your mouth to speak again, ask her the million and one questions you have but before you could say anything she dismissed you, “That is all.” She said. And she was done with you.

She got what she wanted. And now she wanted you to leave.

So you did.

“Well,” He grinned, “Linda really scooped you up from the bottom of the barrel, huh?” You stood on Ransom’s front porch. The only texts you sent and received last night were ‘What time do you need me to be there?’ and an hour later the reply of ‘11’. The scumbag was standing in the doorway, leant against the frame, looking down on you. In more than one way.

“Can I come in?” You asked. You really didn’t want to do this. But a $12 an hour temp job versus $20 hour stability… hard to beat. He smirked, pushing off the frame before looking you up and down, turning to disappear into the house.

“Take off your shoes.” What a fucking joke. His house was a mess. Clothes thrown haphazardly around, a pile of dishes not in the sink, but on the counter. Abandoned cups, tv was rolling on in the background, some political documentary. The house, while contemporary and clean, well kept on the outside. The inside looked like a frat house during rush week. You didn’t want to take off your shoes in fear that you’d step in vomit or something worse.

He grinned off to the side, “Had some people over last night.” He explained, drinking what looked like orange juice from a coffee mug. The vodka bottle that was capless on the counter led you to believe that orange juice wasn’t the only thing in the cup. “You can start by cleaning up.” He gestured around, sinking back down into the sofa. “I’m sure I’ll think of something else you can do when you’re done.” The fucking prick.

You shut the door a little heavier than intended, slipping your sneakers off and placing them by the door. “You’ve got a laundry room?” You asked, he didn’t look away from the television,

“Basement.” And he was done with you too. The tone was very, don’t talk to me. Which honestly you were grateful for.

You cleaned up his messes, the red solo cups that littered almost every surface in every room, laundry was running in the basement, dishwasher working hard to sanitize the first round of plates and cups that could fit, the others waiting patiently in the sink as you wipe counters and dusted picture frames, the thick film of unappreciation. He didn’t care about his house, his furniture, the art that cost more than your apartment that lined his walls. His clothes, while having an extensive closet, some were threadbare and with holes.

He didn’t care.

And it made you angry.

You thought of the furniture you were able to keep from your Mother’s house, well oiled and kept. No scratches. The fabrics of the couches and chairs carefully cleaned and maintained.

His sheets were stained and you were unsure when the last time he had washed them actually was. The dampness made you gag. It wasn’t long before you were cleaning under his feet. His ankles crossed and feet resting on the coffee table as you straightened the area around him. You felt his eyes on you, briefly, but ignored it.

“Do you have any real clothes?” He asked suddenly. He stood from the sofa, rounding it to pull the vodka bottle back out from the cabinet you’d placed it in, pouring heavily into the coffee mug before leaving the bottle and the orange juice carton he followed with next to it.

“These are real clothes.” You stated, coming behind him to put the items away. He scoffed,

“I’m important,” He claimed, “I go to parties, events.” He took a large mouthful of the screwdriver he’d just made, “You can’t wear clothes like that if you’re gonna be babysitting me the whole time.” You rolled your eyes,

“I don’t have to go. You set my hours, I don’t-”

“As much as I love the whole, ‘I’m poor and don’t care what I look like’, thing you have going on,” Ransom laughed, “You’re gonna be around me, and as a reflection of me, you need to look presentable.” He gestured to the demin shorts a t-shirt you were currently wearing, mismatched socks on your feet. You felt your face flush. “And slap a little makeup on.” You rolled your eyes at that. Fucking dick. He smirked when you didn’t reply, turning back around to leave you and disappeared upstairs.

He didn’t come down for a while. In that time you’d finished cleaning the living area, the house looking a complete 180 from where it had been when you’d originally entered, it was nearing dinner time. Your stomach was growling and you’d realized you had been cleaning for five hours without stopping.

You didn’t get to enjoy the sense of accomplishment because Ransom came down the stairs not a moment later, dressed for his evening. If you didn’t hate him so much you’d drool. He looked good. Patterned slacks, chelsea boots, a lightweight white button down, blazer over one arm. “Let’s go.” He said, not stopping on his way towards the front door.

“Where are we going?” You felt gross, covered in grime from cleaning, sweat dried on your skin you knew you probably didn’t smell amazing, hair frizzed up in a bun. He didn’t answer you, continuing outside. You sighed heavily, throwing the pair of socks you’d just matched back into the laundry basket before slipping your shoes on and following him outside.

“C’mon!” He yelled from the front seat of his beamer, sunglasses on his nose, he was annoyed with you. Whatever. You sat heavily in his passenger seat, the dickwad not even giving you time to close the door before he was speeding down the driveway.

“Where are we going?” You asked again. One hand on the wheel, the other’s fingertips brushing against his lower lip he looked at you from behind his sunglasses.

“To dinner.” He smirked, looking back towards the road as you merged onto the interstate.

He was a fucking asshole. If you hadn’t thought he was before you definitely knew now. You were surprised the hostess even let you into this place. It was expensive, and you were very, very underdressed. Point taken Ransom. Thank you. Fucking prick.

He took glances at you ever so often, seated a few feet away from him at the long banquet style table that housed all of his ‘friends.’ Gorgeous women and equally as gorgeous men who had money to burn. You weren’t sure any of these people have ever worked a day in their life, much like Ransom himself. You’d met a few of them before, briefly, when Ransom would show up and ask Harlan for money before disappearing for a week, one or two of them would be in tow bragging about going on some guy’s yacht or flying out to some private island.

Regardless, they weren’t talking to you. You were a strange interloper, easily ignored, but only after a few poked fun at the stray dog at Ransom’s heels. It only stung a little bit when he laughed with them. You were wildly uncomfortable. You poked at your deconstructed salad, the little bits lined neatly up on the plate, a smear of salad dressing beside it. This menu was ridiculous. Why were you here again? You were so hungry and this was not your speed at all. Ransom’s booming laugh met your ears and you could feel the anger rising in your chest.

Fucking asshole. You hoped he would choke on one of the olives in his martini. His eyes met yours momentarily and he smirked. He fucking smirked, cheersing you with his martini before it met his lips again. You could kill him right now.

The money.

The money.

Technically you were still working. As the sun set behind the horizon. You’d been at work, technically, for about 10 hours. That’s $200. Okay, you can do this. You can do this.

You know he did this to embarass you. He made it clear when you’d pull up to the restaurant to give you a taunting look. Whether the dinner was already planned or he had planned it after the conversation about clothes and makeup earlier was anyone’s guess. You had the feeling it was the latter.

He’d paid the bill after all.

The entirety of it.

You’d wished you’d ordered more.

Afterward a giggling girl took your place in the front seat, you glared at the back of her head from the back seat,

“Ransom.” She whined, leaning over in her seat to press her lips to his neck, “I want you to fuck me.” Lips around his ear, sucking the lobe into her mouth. You shifted your gaze to the window, the city landscape passing your eyes as you’d pulled into another valet parking, a bar this time. A nice one.

Ransom and the bubbly girl from the car ride over slipped hastily into the bathroom, he’d sent you a dark look before leaving you to your own devices. Looking over the cocktail list while sitting uncomfortably on a bar stool while your boss was fucking a girl who’d laughed at you for being a ‘dog’ earlier in the bathroom of a bar that had a $20 old fashioned and their most expensive wine came with a thousand dollar price tag.

“You lost?” Another smirking asshole, sidled up next to you at the bar as you took a sip from the beautifully balanced old fashioned you’d tacked onto Ransom’s tab. He was handsome, the guy bothering you, almost everyone in this room was handsome. The lights low and romantic, candles on every table and across the bar, soft music played from the piano across the room where a man sat gently stroking the melodies to create the ambiance of the room. Close, cozy, romantic, and dark enough to forget yourself in.

“Oh c’mon honey.” The man slipped onto the barstool, thighs spread wide around you as you face away from him, his hand meeting your back. “I can help you find what you’re looking for.” His breath reeked of alcohol. You glanced over at him,

“I’m fine thank you.” Another sip, damn this drink was good. He chuckled, moving in closer, drifting a hand down to your thigh.

“Don’t be like that.” He laughed, “You obviously don’t belong here honey.” His hand traced your bare thigh, “You’ve gotta be wanting some company.”

Ransom had returned face flushed and you could almost see a tiny bit of white on his nose, but it was quickly rubbed away. He sat on the opposite end of the bar, the girl from earlier taking his lap. He looked down at you briefly, he had to have seen how uncomfortable you were, how this guy was breathing down your neck. He ignored it, ordering a drink from the bartender.

“I don’t want any company,” You shoved the man’s hand away, “Have a great night.” He leaned back in his seat, downing his drink before leaning back over to put his face in yours.

“Fucking ugly bitch.” He spat, standing from the stool, “Tryna give you a little charity here, you could've at least been grateful.” You wanted to leave. He shoved your shoulder slightly as he walked away from you, no doubt going to bother some other unsuspecting woman in his radius.

You needed some air, taking the last sip of your drink you’d scooted back from the bar, walking by Ransom to take your exit, walking out into the summer night. It was early summer. It was still only 60 at night. A chill went through you. You hadn’t expected to be out so late, the comfortable denim shorts and old ratty t shirt you’d chosen to wear had obviously been a mistake for this day. Ransom made sure to make you see that.

The bar was on the harbor, and it brought in a breeze that caused goosebumps to rise on your skin. You checked your phone, the battery almost dead. Julia had been texting you periodically, but not as much as you would have liked. You scrolled through the most recent messages, you asking how her trip was going and what she was up to and her stilted replies. She was busy you supposed. She didn’t need you, but right now you really needed her.

This night has been a massive blow to your self-esteem. You’d never felt more ugly and unwanted in your life. You just wanted to go home, but Ransom wasn’t done yet. You looked at him from the window, his fingers were gone between that girl’s thighs, they were both drinking expensive cocktails, completely oblivious to you.

He’d watched you exit, not giving it much thought it seemed, because he hadn’t made any motion to bring the night to a close, but you weren’t really expecting him to. It was Ransom’s world and you were just living in it. You worked for him. And you wondered if this is how every day is going to be from here on out. You really don’t know if you could do this forever, but you knew you didn’t want to go back inside.

So you didn’t.

Thankfully Ransom stumbled out about thirty minutes later, girl from earlier on his arm. “Let’s go.” He said. Valet pulling the beamer around he threw you the keys, “Take me home.”

He sunk down in the back seat, high and drunk. His words almost incoherent. Her’s were no better. They sloppily attacked each other in the back seat, indecently. And you were pointedly looking anywhere but in the rearview. Soft grunts and moans made you uncomfortable for the fourth time that night. Your skin crawling in unease as the girl’s giggles turned into breathy moans. Your foot sunk against the gas pedal in hopes you’d get back to his home faster, tears welling up in your eyes. The cry on the way home was going to be so good. So cathartic.

The gravel crunching against the wheels of the car was a sweet relief, so was the haste in which you left the keys in the car, running and skipped to your own car. His eyes met yours through the darkness as he was leant up against his car door, slacks loose around his hips, the girl’s lips attached to his neck as her hand worked quickly between his thighs. He smirked, waving a sarcastic ‘good-bye’. You turned your eyes to the road, cranking up the radio as you began to cry.

You didn’t want to do this anymore.

A text came through right as you finally laid down in your own bed, snuggling into the covers, ready to forget the night.

See you at 9.

.

.

.

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[lia-jones]

Growing Together - Chapter Seventeen - One Guest Too Many

Author's note: If you haven't read it already, I invite you to read my Halloween Ficlet: His Worst Nightmare. It has insight into what is about to happen in this chapter, and it will make it richer. I hope you like it. Enjoy!

Victor stroked his sleeping son’s curls before turning off the light. It was expected that Owen wouldn’t take long to fall asleep, he had been running around all afternoon, playing soccer with his father. With a chuckle, Victor closed Owen’s bedroom door and walked to the living room, where his wife waited for him.

He admired her from the doorframe, sitting on the sofa, her legs crossed on the upholstery as she minded her phone. For years, he had given up on his dream of building a home, resigned to a seemingly certain fate of solitude. He still couldn’t believe that this was his reality now. He was a husband and a father, he shared his bed and played soccer in the park, he had Valentine’s Day dinners and teacher-parent meetings. He was so happy that sometimes it was hard to keep his calm and collected demeanor. It was like he could burst at his seams at any moment, and laugh until he cried.

His heart jumped with joy when the love of his life turned to him, welcoming him with a warm smile.

“He’s sleeping?”

“Yes.” He smiled back. “Didn’t even stir when I went to check on him.”

He sat beside her, pulling her feet onto his lap, taking the phone from his pocket.

“Alright, let’s get this done.” He gently squeezed her toes.

“Ready when you are.” Andrea showed him her schedule on her phone.

There had been a slight change in their Sunday evening, one that was of the utmost importance. Between LFG and LCG affairs, and the duties they entailed, it was essential that they coordinate their schedules, so at least one of them could attend to Owen at all times and they had some free time on the weekends. It was a delicate dance, oftentimes almost impossible to execute, but they would always find a way.

“Alright.” He focused on his screen. “At 7 pm tomorrow, dinner with the partners from London.”

“On my schedule.” She nodded, grimacing after, as she remembered something. “Damn it, we need to find a babysitter. Do you think we could leave Bug with Goldman?”

Victor smirked. Of course he had thought of that already, who did she think he was?

“Goldman is available, I already confirmed with him. He’ll take Owen.” Victor swiped again on his phone. “Tuesday. I can pick up Owen from school and make dinner. I have nothing past 6 pm.”

“Actually, we should go shopping to get some clothes for him. We could go pick him up together and head to the mall, maybe have dinner there?”

“Didn’t you tell me you had to go to the University on Tuesday?” He checked on his phone, wondering if he had missed it.

“I had to reschedule for Friday, Olive will be away on a business trip on Tuesday.”

“You’ll have to reschedule.” Victor responded tentatively, hoping she wouldn’t be too upset.

“You’re busy?” She checked her phone.

“I am.” He nodded, preparing himself for a reaction. “And so are you. Mia invited us for dinner on Friday.”

“Ugh.” She complained, rubbing her forehead. “Why?”

“Andrea.” He tried to appease her.

“Oh please, you know she just wants to ask one of us for an interview or a photo shoot.” She removed her feet from his lap in protest. “We don’t have time for anything else, but we have for this?”

“She keeps inviting us and I keep refusing. I couldn’t say no again. Besides, if a certain someone would update her schedule when she knows she will be busy, none of this would’ve happened.” He scolded.

“Friday is still not good for me.” She glared at him.

“You were the one who agreed to a double date with them on our wedding day. I thought you wanted this. You still don’t like her?”

“I don’t not like her.” She sighed. “I just don’t like like her. But that’s not the point anyway, I can’t do it on Friday.”

Victor paused for a moment, assessing the situation. Despite what he had thought, Andrea was still having a hard time fully accepting his past, and even after marrying him, there seemed to be something that was making her jealous. That, Victor simply could not have. He had to show his wife the truth, that she was the only woman for him, and the best way to do it was to get them both together. Now, more than ever, it was important that they went.

“Ok, then.” Victor sat back with a smirk. “Since you are unavailable, you should call her and cancel. I’m sure she will understand.”

Andrea froze, staring at him, not expecting his move. Andrea could be many things, but she wasn’t impolite, and Mia would insist enough for her to say yes. She was relying on Victor to be the villain and refuse since she knew she wouldn’t be able to do it herself.

“Maybe you could do it.” She practically batted her eyelids at him. “She talked to you first.”

“Aren’t you the busy one?” He lifted a brow at her. “Don’t expect me to do your dirty work.”

“You received her invitation, not me.” She ran her hand across his chest slowly, knowing how it would affect him. “I think you-”

“Nope.” It took all his strength to resist her, as her touch was enough to cloud his judgment and make him cave. “If you are the one who can’t make it, you should be the one to tell her.”

Andrea rolled her eyes and sighed, defeated.

“Fine, we’re going then.” She sat straight on the sofa. “She’s going to make me agree anyway, may as well save me the trouble.”

“Excellent.” Victor pulled her to his lap, craving more of her. “Now that that is settled, we can spend time on other activities.”

“And for the record… Mmm.” She moaned as Victor pulled her even closer, his lips tracing her jaw. “I did not agree to go on a double date.”

“Yes, you did.” He spoke with his lips still pressed on her skin, busy tasting her. “We should have a double date.” He teased, mimicking her voice. “Ignore what Victor says about your food, we can cook together.”

“That does sound like something I would say.” Her fingers ran through his hair, sending ripples of pleasure down his spine. “Although I do not sound like that.”

“You don’t.” A wicked smile widened on his face, as he buried it in the nape of her neck. “You sound shorter.”

“I beg your pardon?!” She pulled away with a gasp.

Victor, however, knew his wife better than anyone and was quick to react. He took her in a hungry kiss, deeply and greedily, his body aching for her, his erection pressing against the fabric of his sweat pants. By the time they broke the kiss, both panting and drunken with lust, she had long forgotten what she was supposed to be upset about.

Not wasting any time, he took his love in his arms and carried her to the bedroom, ready to show her how special she was to him, ending their weekend on a perfect note.

His wife complained during the week about the mountain of emails Mia had sent her, excited about their night together. They had agreed to cook together that evening, partly to bond, partly to spite him, so they regularly traded recipes, deciding on one that could fit everyone’s taste. Unsurprisingly, Victor was on dessert duty and was asked to bring pudding.

Victor watched his wife as they took the elevator to Mia’s apartment, her eyes slightly shiny from exhaustion, yet an honest smile on her face. She had had a terrible week and somehow managed to sleep even less than him, so he figured at this point she was actually welcoming a moment of relaxation with friends, even if it was with Mia.

Naturally, Mia had to almost ruin it all the moment she opened the door. She was so excited she almost tackled Andrea to the ground with a hug, if not for Victor’s vigilant hand.

“Watch it, dummy.” He scolded. “I want to leave here with my wife in one piece, if you don’t mind.”

“I’m so sorry, Andrea.” Mia clumsily brushed his wife’s clothes with her hands. “I’m just so happy to see you here.”

Victor glanced at his son, whose eyes were wide in horror.

“You must be Owen!” She beamed at him. “My name is Mia, how are you?”

“Hi, pleased to meet you.” He quickly extended his hand to shake hers, before she got any ideas about hugging him as well. Smart boy.

“You are your father’s son, so polite!” She entered the apartment, inviting them in. “Did you bring the goods?” Mia glanced at the bags Andrea was holding.

“Don’t worry, I got your stash.” She chuckled, handing her one of the bags.

“It’s pudding, not heroin.” Victor scoffed, as he took his son’s coat off.

“It might as well have heroin, it’s so addictive.” Mia peeked inside the bag. “Come in, Gavin is in the kitchen preparing some ingredients.”

The last time he had been in Mia’s apartment was when he brought her home from the hospital, after the Blackout and the Queen’s death. He had laid her in bed, tucked her in, telling her to rest, and cooked her lunch, leaving her kitchen spotless afterwards. As he had navigated the foreign stove and cabinets, taking and putting back ingredients and utensils, he was confident they had a chance, and he would fight for it. His joy, however, had a bittersweet taste, like he had lost something significant that day, although he didn’t know what. There was a feeling of longing and sadness eating at him, one that not even the thought of finally having a relationship with Mia could fill. As usual, he had shoved it aside, like he did with most of his feelings, focusing on the present moment.

In hindsight, maybe he knew he was so tired of being lonely that he was mistaking things. Maybe he knew he didn’t love her. When she handed him the wedding invitation, it was a blow, but not as deadly as he thought it would be. And when he met his wife, in that beautiful teal dress, with that distracting peacock on her wrist, he knew right away that he had finally found out what love felt like, and he was never able to let go. Andrea needed to know that, like she knew the sun was hot - without a shadow of a doubt.

They found Gavin chopping onions at the counter, an English Springer Spaniel at his feet, keeping him company. Owen immediately became fascinated with the opportunity of making a canine friend.

“Can I pet him?” He completely ignored Gavin’s attempt to greet him.

“Yes, he is friendly.” Gavin looked at him with sweet eyes. “Scratch his ears, he likes that.”

“What’s his name?” Owen did as suggested, giggling when the dog turned his head slightly, to fully enjoy the gesture.

“Flyer.” Mia chimed in. “You know, he used to be a police dog. We took him home when he became too old to do the job.”

“He used to chase criminals?” Owen became even more excited.

Victor saw himself years ago, making soup in that kitchen, alone with his thoughts, and looked at his wife, watching over his son, eyes trained on him and the dog’s reaction. His heart beat faster, bringing light to a truth: the feelings of longing and loss had vanished the moment he laid eyes on Andrea. She was his destiny, he was certain of that. He came behind her, gently wrapping her hand with his, as a silent thank you

“He caught a lot of criminals in his day.” Gavin took him away from his thoughts, still talking about his pet. “He also has a good nose for drugs, that was his job for quite a while.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t let him smell my dad’s pudding.” Owen spoke in all seriousness, making them all laugh.

“Ok, we need to start dinner.” Mia turned to the boy. “Owen, would you like to watch cartoons with Flyer, while we cook dinner? Or would you rather stay here with us?”

“Can I watch cartoons, please?” Owen asked. Andrea seemed hesitant.

“Don’t worry. Flyer will take good care of him, won’t you boy?” Gavin ran his fingers through the dog’s soft brown and white coat. “And he’s just in the next room, we’ll hear him if he needs us.”

“Behave.” Victor stroked his son’s curls before he left for the living room, the dog right behind him.

“Aw, you’re a dad.” Mia cooed at Victor.

“I am.“ Victor smiled, pulling his wife to his side, his hand caressing her back. “So, I was promised a meal. Do I have to make it myself?” He teased.

“Oh no, today I will make you swallow your bitter words with my cooking abilities.” Mia lifted her chin. “You just stay there, enjoying your wine and the show.” Mia took a pan out of her cupboard, showing it to his wife. "Andrea and I will cook dinner.”

Victor had to admit, it was quite the show. A horror movie, to be exact. Some things did never change, and Mia in the kitchen was one of them. If not for his and Andrea’s watchful eye, she would’ve set the kitchen on fire at least three times. Victor was antsy on his seat, seeing her almost make all kinds of mistakes, aching to take over, but since Mia had decided he wouldn’t touch the food unless it was to eat it, he couldn’t help but sit idly watching his wife cook and stop every one of Mia’s attempts to kill them all. So much for showing her cooking prowess. At least she was wise enough to ask Andrea to participate.

“How are you still alive? Or your husband?” Victor scolded.

“Well, it’s a new recipe.” Mia pouted. “Everyone has troubles when cooking something new.”

“Just sit here and watch while Andrea does it.” Victor sighed, annoyed. “Maybe you can learn a thing or two.”

“I definitely can learn a lot.” Mia laughed nervously, taking a pen and paper to take notes. “This way is probably better.”

“Safer is what you mean.” Victor continued. “Although I have to say, if there is anyone here who can think of a way of accidentally killing someone with a pen, it’s you.”

“Come on, she was not that bad!” Andrea smiled at Mia. “In any case, be careful with my husband. I need to take him home in one piece, or they won’t give me back my deposit.”

“I should be the one concerned here!” Mia laughed, then turning to Victor. “Do you remember how we first met? You hit me with your ball! You’re the dangerous one.”

“I hit you with a ball because a certain dummy didn’t know any better than to get out of the way.” He calmly retorted.

“It was your lousy aim!” She argued. “You made me pudding the next day, remember? I still have your bowl!” Turning to the cupboard,she took something from it. “Here! My souvenir.”

Victor’s mind went back to his childhood as he saw the old bowl. He remembered his child self, always acting strong and logical, when inside he was fragile and hungry for affection. If he could travel back in time again he would go to that boy and tell him that despite what was still ahead, he would be alright.

“You kept it all this time?” His voice was hoarse with emotion.

“Of course.” Mia replied, her voice shaky.

Gavin cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable. Victor raised his eyes to meet his wife’s, finding them shiny and sad. She was getting it all wrong. He was moved, yes, but not because he was reminiscing on some sweet memory. It was because he could see how far he had come, and how blessed he was now. It was not because of Mia, it was because of her.

“This has to be a record for you.” Victor changed his tone to a mocking one. “You kept something for over twenty years and didn’t break it.”

“Dinner is almost ready.” Gavin declared, probably more because he wanted to change the subject than the urgency of the food being served. “I’ll go set the table.”

“Help Andrea, I’ll go.” Mia got up from her seat, heading for the living room.

“It’s alright, I’ll help Andrea.” Victor got up from his seat.

When they were finally alone, he then turned to his wife, his arm wrapping around her waist, his hand cupping her cheek lovingly, making her face him.

“Don’t entertain silly ideas in your head.”

“What do you mean?” She frowned.

“I’m yours.” He looked into her eyes, hoping she could see the truth in his.

She stood silent for a moment, staring back at him.

“Hey, what are you people waiting for?” Mia called from the living room. “The table is set.”

After some good food and some good wine, Andrea’s light seemed to shine a little brighter, carefree, bantering and laughing.

“Did I tell you already how much I love your dog?” She smiled. “Look at him, watching over Owen. It’s adorable.” She gazed lovingly at their son, who had fallen asleep on the couch after dinner.

“Alright, who wants a final drink?” Mia spoke, bringing a tray with several liqueur bottles.

“As long as you don’t spill it on me, like you almost did with the wine.” Victor retorted.

“Please, even if I ruin your black shirt, you have hundreds of them.” Mia swatted at him.

Before Victor could argue, Andrea jumped in, all excited.

“Wait, wait! I know this one!” She raised her hand playfully. “I have been extensively educated on the subject of black shirts, I have been preparing for this moment for two years now.”

Victor remembered all the lectures he had given his wife when she said he “looked like he always wore the same shirt.” That was her chance for retaliation. He braced himself for impact.

“Apparently they all look alike but they are all different.” His wife continued. “There are many shades of black. For example, I would say this one is closer to coal than pitch black, but Victor has shirts in other tones, like jet black, onyx or raven. Also, the collars differ, there is the classic, the button down, the pinned, and my favorite, the mandarin. The fabric is also different, there is Oxford cloth, Pinpoint Oxford, Royal Oxford, among other material and finishing touches. They can also have different buttons, different cuffs, you name it. Victor has many black shirts, but I can guarantee you there aren’t two alike.”

Victor was stunned. To be honest, he never thought she had heard his explanation on the matter, she would always glare at him with half hooded eyes, like she was bored to death. But she did. Moreover, she apparently memorized it.

“Surprised?” She gave him a sly smile. “So what’s my grade, Teacher Victor?”

He couldn’t help but grin at her. Under the table, he took her hand, tracing on her palm A+.

“Wow, Victor seems impressed! That’s not a common feat!” Mia took a sip of her drink. “You are truly made for each other. I’m honestly glad everything ended well and not in bloody tragedy.”

“What do you mean, bloody tragedy?” Andrea frowned.

There was a moment of silence in the kitchen. Gavin glared at Mia.

“They need to know.” Mia turned to Gavin, in all seriousness.

“Need to know what?” Victor asked.

Another long pause. The hosting couple looked down.

“Mia.” Victor warned, starting to lose his patience.

“Ok… So… Something happened at your wedding.” Mia started. “The reason why I pulled you into the house before the reception… was because there was someone with a gun trying to hurt you.”

“Wait, what?” Andrea was stunned. “Who?”

Mia took a deep breath.

“It was Daniel, Andrea. I saw him on top of a tree, rifle in hand. He was trying to kill you.”

Andrea looked at Mia with wide eyes, the words still sinking in her. Victor, on the other hand, was livid.

“Daniel was at my wedding?” Victor snapped, enraged. “How am I only knowing of this-”

He was interrupted by a sudden movement in his peripheral vision. Andrea had doubled over, spilling the contents of her stomach all over Mia’s floor.

“Do you feel sick?” He asked his still fairly pale wife while they were driving home. “Let me know if you need me to pull over.”

“I’m fine.” She croaked. “Is Owen-”

“He’s asleep.” Victor assured her.

“Did Gavin explain how it happened, how he…” Andrea shook her head in disbelief. “How did he get in there in the first place?”

It was his fault. He was careless. He let his guard down.

“I will speak to Gavin later. Don’t be afraid, I will not let him hurt you.”

“I’m not afraid.” Andrea’s anger seeped through her voice. “I’m infuriated. I’m tired of people always thinking they can take whatever they want.” She looked Victor in the eyes, her lip quivering. “I’m sick of being bullied.”

Victor’s jaw clenched so hard that his teeth hurt. He was careless, he had let himself entertain with his happiness, letting his guard down. He was an idiot for believing the world would let him catch a break. And if not for Mia and Gavin, he would have paid a painful price: he would have lost what he treasured the most.

He clenched the steering wheel hard, vowing to himself never to make the same mistake again. And Daniel would be punished for all the pain that he caused, and curse the day he laid a hand on Victor’s precious Light.

[stardust-walker]

High Hopes: Chapter 20

Previous Chapters:  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 

word count: 5315

_______________________________________________

Lori’s safe return to camp might have been the first good thing to happen in what felt like days. Dove hurried over with the others as her friend emerged from the car. “Where’s Rick,” Lori questioned. Dove’s harsh gaze fell to Shane as he spoke.

“I had to get you back here,” he stated as if it were that simple.

Julian’s jaw dropped as he stared at the deputy. “Probably better ways to get someone to follow you than to lie and tell them someone’s safe when they’re not?” He winced as Maggie punched him in the side.

“You asshole,” Lori growled as she stomped past him. “He’s my husband,” Dove’s eyes widened as Lori punched Shane in the chest. The brunette stepped forward and pulled her back along with Andrea.

“I will go after him! I’ll find him.” Shane spoke again, “Now first things first, I gotta…I gotta look after you.” Dove scoffed before Shane continued, “I gotta make sure the baby’s alright.” 

The silence and shock throughout the group was palpable. Then Carl stepped forward, the poor boy didn’t seem to understand as he looked almost excited. “You’re having a baby,” he questioned his mother. Lori glanced sideways for a moment. Dove punched the bridge of her nose in frustration as Carl continued. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Come on,” Dale broke the silence, “Let’s make sure you’re alright.” As Lori followed Andrea towards the house, Dove took a step forward.

“You’re a real fucking piece of work,” she hissed at Shane before she turned on her heel and followed the other women up to the house.

Julian turned his head and watched the others leave before he turned back to Shane, “So are you really gonna go look for Rick or were you lying to her about that too?” Maggie shot him another warning look. “What? Are we all supposed to just sit around and listen to this and not question it?”

Shane stood up straighter and ran a hand over his head, “Why don’t you just mind your business about my people?” 

Julian glared at Shane, “Why didn’t you just mind your business about ours?”

Maggie took a quick step between them as Shane began to step forward. “Julian, go back to the house and just shut up. Both of you! Rick and Glenn will be back soon. They have to be.”

~

Dove sunk to the floor across from the couch and ran her hand across the hardwood floor as Lori tried to find the best way to explain things to her son. Carl peeked around his mother at the older man. Dale shook his head, “Don’t look at me. That’s your father’s job.”

The little boy turned his head slowly and glanced at Dove. The young woman let out a quiet snort of laughter before she raised a hand in the area. “Don’t look at me, either. I never worked with kids. Your daddy’ll be back soon anyway. I’m sure he’ll love to have that chat with you,” Dove finished with a little smirk. 

“If the baby’s a girl, can we name her Sophia?” It felt like a knife to the gut, though it was obvious that Carl hadn’t meant it that way. Lori avoided the younger woman’s gaze as Dove stared back down at her hands.

“I’m sorry, bud, I thought you knew,” Shane mumbled from the doorway.

“Big brother Carl,” the little boy grinned as he flicked the brim of his hat. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“I say that’s very cool,” Shane agreed.

 Dove looked up and spotted Lori trying her best to avoid any interaction with Shane. She pursed her lips as she tried to think back to the quarry. Things had definitely not been this weird between the two of them when they were there. Sophia had asked Carl if Shane was his dad and had to explain to Dove that he was not, in fact, the young boy’s father. Dove felt a sinking feeling in her chest, and she wasn’t sure if it was because of thoughts of Sophia or her realization of the true predicament that Lori Grimes had found herself in.

“How about a little later after she’s had some rest,” Andrea frowned. Dove shifted her gaze from Lori to the blonde woman and back to the doorway. 

“Lori, I had to get you back here. You wouldn’t have come otherwise,” Shane reasoned. It was a pretty shitty reason. “How about you just hear me out, please?”

Lori looked torn, but she finally nodded her head. “Give me a minute, bud? Go with Dove.” Dove nodded as she pulled herself to her feet and put an arm around the little boy.

Dove tried to smile as she flicked the brim of the sheriff’s hat Carl wore, “Let’s give your mama a few minutes, little man.”

Carl waited until they were out on the porch before he spoke up. “Is everything alright with my mom?”

Hazel eyes flickered to Dale before she turned back to Carl and spoke. “I’m sure your mom is just fine. She’s probably just…worried about everything with your dad being missing and all that. Especially after today, she’s probably just wanting him to come back,” she smiled faintly.

Carl nodded his head slowly, his head turned back to the house. “I hope that’s right.”

Dale didn’t look very comfortable with leaving Lori alone in the house with Shane. Dove couldn’t help but agree with him on that, though neither of them had to say anything about it. 

~

Julian was worried. They weren’t back yet. Beth wasn’t getting any better and Hershel was still out there. His nerves were shot, but he couldn’t afford to show weakness. Not right now anyway. So, he sat on the opposite side of the bed from Maggie, held Beth’s hand, and stared at her. He felt like any minute now, she would pop up and be the same bright and bubbly kid. Deep down he knew that even when she did snap out of it, she wouldn’t be like that for a long time.

“You just need to be strong for her,” he heard Andrea say from where she had sat next to him. 

“I was just reminding her about…never mind,” Maggie shook her head. Andrea encouraged her to continue. “My dad would die if he heard this. My first summer back from college, I drove home, dumped my stuff off, went straight out to the stable for a ride.” Julian chuckled quietly. He knew this story. “My family comes back from church and Beth grabs my things and start unpacking my stuff upstairs. It was sweet until this one here,” Maggie patted Beth’s hand, “starts rifling through my backpack. She finds this little plastic container with these pink and green candies inside. She didn’t even know I was on the pill. She was so freaked out by the idea of me, boys, and sex she runs outside and chucks them in the duck pond. And I ride up, I see this, I’m screaming. She’s crying and Shawn runs outside, thinks one of us is drowning. The jerk busts out laughing as soon as he finds out. My dad comes out asking what’s going on, and Beth turns around and bats her eyelashes and just tells him we were swimming.”

Julian snorted, “Then this one,” he nodded at Maggie. “Decided it was a good idea to call my sister and start freaking out when she finally gets inside. Maggie was a hellion, but Beth knows how to raise a different type of hell,” he joked. The smile slowly formed on his face as he squeezed Beth’s hand again.

“Glenn and Rick will bring your dad back,” Andrea tried to assure Maggie. 

“Glenn’s a good guy,” Maggie sniffled. 

Shane seemed to be trying to stay true to his word as he began to load up the car to head out and look for Rick. Dove leaned back against the RV, cigarette burning down in her hand as she watched Daryl examine his rifle. She’d woken up that morning feeling just a little bit ashamed of how she’d lashed out at him, but she didn’t exactly know how to have that talk. Part of her still thought he deserved it. 

“He doesn’t want Rick back,” Dove heard Dale tell Andrea. “Or Hershel. With those two gone, he’s got everything he wants and no one to tell him otherwise,” the old man shook his head. Dove found herself drifting closer to the conversation; Dale was getting pretty ballsy talking about something like that with Shane in earshot. 

“Shane has done more to keep this group alive than anybody, including Rick,” Andrea narrowed her eyes at Dale.

“Now I know you didn’t just say that,” Dove spoke up as the attention of the two turned to her. “You have been spewing some real bullshit over the last few weeks, but I have to say, that has to be the worst thing I’ve heard.” She shook her head.

“You think Rick’s done more,” Andrea questioned as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. 

“I know he has. He bargained with the group at the nursing home to get Glenn back. He went back to try and save Merle and so we could get the guns. I mean in case you haven’t noticed, without that bag of guns, our chances of being alive right now would be pretty slim,” Dove counted off on her fingers. “Rick has tried his best to keep us all safe! The only person Shane has tried to keep safe is himself and maybe Lori and Carl. The rest of us are just along for the ride,” Dove scowled at the blonde woman.

“I mean, I have to agree. There’s no way you can possibly believe that Andrea.” The disappointment in Dale’s voice was obvious. 

“I do,” Andrea stated. 

Dove stepped up beside Dale as Andrea moved towards the car. “What a dumbass,” she grumbled as she finally tossed her cigarette to the ground. The sound of a vehicle approaching broke through the silence.

They were back. Dove jogged up towards the house with everyone else. A small smile was on her face as she watched Carl run up to hug his father. 

“Who the hell is that,” T-Dog spoke up and Dove narrowed her eyes as she moved closer to Carol. 

“That’s Randall,” Glenn spoke up.

“Holy shit,” Julian muttered as he turned and headed back into the house.

~

Dove didn’t like the fact that they were in there trying to decide what to do about someone’s life. Rick had the right idea, she thought to, to let the boy go once he was healed. Andrea was on a real winning streak that day. “Isn’t that the same as leaving him for the walkers,” the blonde inquired.

Dove placed a hand over her mouth as she leaned back in her chair. Her attention shifted from the blonde to the door as Daryl entered. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on what she could only assume was herself and Carol. A new sense of shame rolled over her as, instead of the scowl she’d been expecting, he nodded his head at them with a small forced smile. Dove’s hazel eyes glanced towards Carol as the older woman shrugged her shoulders. Dove tried her best to keep her eyes forward, but she could feel her heart beat faster as the man walked across the room and stood across from them.

“He knows where we are,” Shane said.

“He was blindfolded the whole way here, he’s not a threat,” Rick explained.

“You killed three of their men, you took one hostage,” Shane began to ramble. “But they just ain’t gonna come looking?”

Dove frowned as she lowered her hand, “You would rather them have left the poor kid out in the middle of the night with a fence through his leg to get eaten alive?” 

Rick ran a hand through his hair, “They left him for dead. Like Dove said, they saw him with the fence through him and they left him there to die. No one is looking.”

T-Dog spoke up, “we should still post a guard.”

Hershel shrugged his shoulders, “He’s out cold right now, will be for hours.”

“You know what? I’m gonna go get him some flowers and candy,” Shane exclaimed sarcastically.

Julian ground his teeth as he spoke up from beside Hershel, “Were you always this much of an asshole or is this just an end-of-the-world bullshit because I’m getting really tired of it man.”

“Julian…” Patricia warned. 

“Sorry, Pat. Sorry, I know no cursing in the house, but someone had to say it! Randall is not a threat,” he shook his head. “Randall is a little punk but he’s what? 120 soaking wet. Carl could probably kick his a…. butt if he wanted to.”

Shane scoffed and shook his head. “Look at this folks, we’re back in Fantasyland.”

“You know, we haven’t even dealt with what you did at my barn yet,” Hershel turned quickly as Shane began to exit the room. Julian’s dark eyes widened in shock. He expected it from Maggie, maybe. Not Hershel. “Let me make this perfectly clear, once and for all. This is my farm. Now I wanted you gone. Rick talked me out of it, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. So, do us both a favor? Keep your mouth shut.” 

Julian looked down at his shoes as he tried to keep a shocked laugh from coming out of his mouth. As everyone began to file out, he looked up and put a hand on Hershel’s shoulder. “Wait until Beth hears about what you just did, man.” Julian smiled as he patted Hershel’s shoulder excitedly. “She’s gonna be so mad she missed it.” Dove rose from her chair as the two men exited the room and entered the hallway. 

The brunette watched as Carol tried to approach Daryl, who had somehow made it to the door, only for him to push his way outside without allowing her to say anything. Dove closed the distance between herself and her sister quickly as they left the house. “I think he just needs some space,” Dove whispered to Carol.

“Maybe,” Carol hesitated as she watched Daryl trek back towards his lonely little campsite. “Maybe you shouldn’t have gone and yelled at him last night either.” She frowned and Dove sighed.

Dove nervously rubbed her forearm as she leaned against the porch railing. “You think I don’t know that? I was just…I was angry. I’ll find a way to make it up to you…and maybe him too. As long as he deserves it.” She looked down at the porch.

Carol let out a heavy sigh and took a few steps forward to kiss her younger sister on the top of her head. “That’s all I can ask…”

~

The next week felt like the longest week of her life. There had been a few times when she had gone up to try and talk with Daryl, but it always seemed like the universe was telling her that now wasn’t the time. The first time she’d tried to do it, Maggie had asked her for help with collecting eggs. Dove had given the other woman a confused look but had helped her anyway. It was perfectly clear to anyone with eyes that Maggie was important to Glenn and Glenn was her best friend. A few other times, Daryl had been pulled aside by other men in the group to watch Randall or do other things that Dove didn’t care to hear about.

About 3 days into it, Dove had all but thrown herself backwards onto her sleeping bag in frustration. “What’s wrong now,” Carol asked, but didn’t look up from her sewing. Carol had taken to fixing up winter coats that they’d salvaged from the highway since it was starting to get colder out.

Dove ran a hand through her dark hair and closed her eyes. “My mom always used to say that the universe will give you signs when things are meant to happen. You think that me getting interrupted every time I try to apologize to that jerk means that he deserved it?” She opened one eye to look at her sister as a smirk crept onto her face. 

Carol rolled her eyes. “Your mom was a smart lady and she believed what she believed so I won’t tell you she was wrong. If you want to go off that though, maybe the time just isn’t right. Maybe it’s like you said. You just need to give him time,” the older woman looked up and flashed her sister a comforting smile. 

Dove had taken to doing something she felt like she could control and help with. Beth. It would be a little different if the young woman were willing to talk, but Dove understood. The brunette entered the kitchen as Lori walked out with a tray of food for the teenager. “Oh vegetables,” Dove chirped as she reached over the saltshaker and picked up a piece of cucumber. She took a bite out of it as she leaned back against the counter. “Something wrong, Maggie?”

The younger woman shrugged her shoulders as she drummed her fingers on the counter. “Just everything with Glenn. It’s kind of got me all worried, you know? What if I messed things up?”

Dove sighed and popped the rest of the piece into her mouth. After a few moments, she spoke. “Guys are weird. They’ll do nice shit for you one day and tell you to basically go fuck yourself the next.”

“Speaking from experience,” Maggie quirked an eyebrow.

Dove rolled her hazel eyes and swatted playfully at the woman. “I’m 28 years old. If I hadn’t experienced that yet, I might be worried.” Nice avoiding the question. “My point is that Glenn didn’t do anything like that to you. What I think happened is that maybe Glenn never felt like that about someone before and it spooked him. I wouldn’t worry too much about it. I think Glenn’s crazy about you. He’ll come around.”

Maggie looked down at the counter and nodded. “You think so?” Dove nodded. “Thanks…”

“Absolutely. Would you like to schedule another appointment? Knowing all of these assholes, I’ll be booked until the actual end of the world,” Dove snorted as she reached for another piece of cucumber. Maggie let out a light chuckle. It was nice to have friends.

~

Julian was caught off guard as Lori came out of Beth’s room white as a ghost. “Hey what’s wrong,” he questioned the woman as she passed. 

Lori didn’t stop but turned slightly and pointed back to Beth’s room. “You stay with her. I’m gonna go find Maggie and Hershel.” Julian didn’t have time to say anything as he spotted the knife in her hand. His heart sank to his stomach as he turned and headed down the hallway. He peeked his head into the bedroom.

Beth was faced away from the doorway when he entered. “Beth…Bethie.” Julian said quietly as he walked over and took a seat next to her feet. “Beth. I need you to tell me what you were planning to do with the knife.” 

The blonde didn’t move at all, but she answered. “It’s all pointless now, Julie. What’s the point anymore? Even if we live, we’ll probably just end up like my mom. And Shawn.”

Julian’s hands shook as he rested his elbows on his knees. His gaze focused onto the floor in front of him. He wanted to be able to reassure her as best he could, but there was no way that he could do it. He wanted to believe that there was hope for the future, but part of him couldn’t help but think that Beth was right. That didn’t mean that anyone else had to die, though.

He was snapped out of his thoughts as Lori ran back into the doorway followed by Dove. Dove’s hazel eyes were wide and panicked as she entered the room. Lori hadn’t explained much, just that she’d found Beth trying to cut herself and couldn’t find Maggie. Dove half expected to enter the room and see blood but relief flooded through her as Maggie ran down the hallway. 

She was like a bat out of hell as she descended onto her younger sister. “Are you serious? What do you think dad’s gonna do when he finds out?” Julian chewed nervously on his thumbnail.

“What’s he gonna do? Kill me for committing suicide,” Beth sounded emotionless as she responded.

Dove sighed as she pulled her hair back away from her face. “Beth, listen. I know that it feels like you can’t feel anything right now, but that was a very permanent solution to a temporary problem. I know how much it hurts to lose someone; believe me I know.” Her voice cracked slightly as she spoke. “But Maggie’s right. How do you think your dad would feel if you did it?”

The blonde girl stared straight ahead and shrugged her thin shoulders.

“Stop being a brat,” Maggie sat down on the bed. “He’d die. So would I. This isn’t just about you.” Julian stood up slowly and put an arm on Dove’s shoulder. A look from the younger man told her that maybe this was a conversation the two women needed to have on their own. 

“How are you doing,” Dove turned her attention to Julian as he shut the door behind them. 

Julian shook his head, “It’s not me you need to worry about. Beth would never do something like that.” He sucked in a deep breath as shouts started to come from inside the bedroom. Dove placed a gentle hand on his back and began to lead him to the kitchen. “Beth loves Maggie. She would never fight with her like that.” He wandered through into the dining room and took a seat.

“This could’ve been handled better,” Andrea spoke.

Dove felt her anger flare up again as Andrea answered Lori. “You shouldn’t have taken the knife away.” 

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Dove grumbled. 

“Excuse me,” Lori sounded truly shocked.

“You were wrong. Like Dale taking my gun, that wasn’t your decision,” Andrea sounded so sure of herself.

Dove bit down on her tongue. She didn’t want to fight anymore, she really didn’t.

“She has to choose to live on her own, she has to find her own reasons,” Andrea stated.

Dove snapped, “You are a grown ass woman capable of making your own decisions. Beth is a sixteen-year-old child. You want to give someone who wants to die a way out?”

“What is your problem,” Andrea turned her attention to Dove.

“My problem is that just because you’re a fucking lawyer, you think you know everything,” Dove pointed a finger at the older woman. 

“And you really have the authority to tell me about a situation like this,” Andrea’s tone was condescending, and it just served to fuel the fire.

“No, but I do have a degree in psychology and several years of experience to tell you about the situation,” Dove explained, and Andrea rolled her eyes. “I swear to God, if I had that here with me, I would shove it in your face, then roll it up and shove it so far up your…” 

Lori moved behind Dove and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Stop it! Both of you! Andrea, you need to stop. Dove, I know what you’re saying, and I agree with you but it’s not making it any better.”

“How,” Andrea threw a hand in the air.

“Would you want me to tie a noose for her too then,” Lori snapped.

“If she’s serious, she’ll figure out a way,” Andrea shrugged.

“True but it’s a whole hell of a lot easier when you wanna give her a butcher knife,” Dove glared at the blonde woman.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t stop her or let her know that I care,” Lori explained. Dove admired how the woman was trying so hard to hold it together. Odds were, she probably wanted to scream and fight as much as Dove did. 

“She believes that suicide is the best option,” Andrea said as if she had suddenly discovered it was raining outside.

“That’s not an option,” Lori shook her head.

“Of course it is.”

Dove’s jaw dropped. She managed to tune out half of what Andrea said until she heard it. “I help keep this place safe.”

“If trying to shoot Daryl in the head counts as keeping this place safe, then you sure did,” Dove chided back.

“The men can handle this on their own. They don’t need your help,” Lori asserted. 

“I’m sorry. What would you have me do,” Andrea asked. That baffled Dove. It was a farm, there were a million and one things to do and somehow, everyone else managed to keep themselves busy.

“There’s plenty of work to go around,” Lori frowned. 

“Are you serious,” Andrea shouted. “Everything falls apart and you’re in my face over skipping laundry?”

 Dove scoffed as Lori continued. “Puts a burden on the rest of us. On me, Carol, Dove, Patricia, and Maggie. Cookin and cleanin and caring for Beth. So yes, there is more than enough work to keep you busy too.” Dove’s eyes widened slighlty as she caught the angry look on Andrea’s face. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself. You sit up on that RV, working on a tan with a shotgun in your lap.” 

Andrea scowled and began to explain how she was on watch, but Lori was having none of it. The two women continued to argue back and forth until Andrea dropped a bomb. “Go in there and tell that little girl that everything’s gonna be okay, just like it is for you. She’ll get a husband, a son, baby, boyfriend. She just has to look on the bright side.”

Dove boiled over as she walked around the table and gave Andrea a hard shove. “Get out!”

Andrea turned her attention to the brunette, “And you. You act so high and mighty but…”

“She said, get out,” Julian’s voice came from the doorway and it made everyone freeze. Andrea looked startled. “You don’t get to talk to people like that in this house. If I hear you talking about Beth like that again, I’ll tell Maggie exactly what you said about her. Then you’ll really regret it.” 

Lori finally seemed to crumble a little bit as Andrea exited the house with a slam of the door. “I…”

“You don’t need to explain anything to me, Lori. I get it. In traumatic situations, people will…find comfort in other people. You don’t need to explain anything,” Dove stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Lori. She really wished she’d gotten to hit Andrea again.

~

When he heard Maggie going towards Beth’s room and calling for her, Julian rose from his seat and was at the doorway in seconds. Then the glass shattered. Maggie flashed him a panicked look as she began to knock on the door. Julian walked over; panic written all over his face. “Bethie, open up!” Julian banged on the door. “Don’t do this,” he echoed Maggie. His heart sank when she mentioned she’d left her with Andrea. Julian slammed his shoulder against the door once, but it was a hard old wooden door. There was a better chance of him dislocating something than getting the door opened before something happened. “Beth just open the door! Please!” He shouted through the door. 

The door finally swung open as Lori pried it open with a fire poker. His stomach turned as Beth turned and he saw her clutch her bloody wrist. “I’m sorry,” she started to cry. It felt like things moved in slow motion as Maggie walked forward into the bathroom and put an arm around her sister. With a word, Julian ran off to collect bandages for his friend. He was alone for the first time in days and for the first time, he let the tears that he’d been holding back fall.

~

The last thing any of them expected was for Rick and Shane to return with Randall, but that was what happened. Dove didn’t like the idea of Daryl going off to question the boy on his own. She paced nervously between the tents with her sister as she waited for the man to return.

It felt like hours, but Daryl eventually emerged from the barn and walked back up towards the camp. “Boy there’s got a gang. 30 men,” Daryl explained as he approached them. “They have heavy artillery and they ain’t lookin to make friends. They roll through here, our boys are dead. And our women, they’re gonna wish they would be.” A shiver ran down Dove’s spine at the thought. Her hazel eyes drifted down to look at Daryl’s hands as Carol asked about his knuckles. “Had a little chat,” he answered simply as he stepped through, back to his campsite. 

Dove let out a heavy sigh before she walked back to her tent. She paused for a moment before she began to dig through her backpack. Down near the bottom of the front pocket, she found what she was looking for. Some antiseptic and some clean tissues. Probably not the best, but that would have to do for a peace offering.

It felt like she had bricks tied to her shoes the closer that she got to her destination. “You coming to throw more shit at me,” Daryl called out the moment he spotted her. 

“To be fair,” Dove raised a hand as she stopped just behind him, “I was aiming for your head.”

“Your aim was off,” Daryl grumbled.

“Well, it’s been a while since softball,” she shrugged her shoulders and pointed to the spot next to him. “Can I sit.”

Daryl just let out a grunt and Dove lowered herself to sit next to him. Her gaze went to his knuckles again. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.” She held out the antiseptic to him with a raised eyebrow.

“I did what I had to do,” Daryl just shrugged his shoulders. He looked at the items in her hand before he begrudgingly held his hand out to her.

Dove sighed as she gently took Daryl’s hand in hers and began to dab at the blood on his knuckles with a tissue. “You did more than you had to. That seems to be a pattern with you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Daryl scoffed. 

Dove shrugged as she continued to dab at his hand. “It means that you almost got yourself killed looking for Sophia. You beat the shit out of some kid to find out all the things you had to in order to protect the group…” 

Daryl frowned, “Any of them would’ve done it if they had to.”

Dove furrowed her eyebrows as she dabbed the antiseptic onto his knuckles now. “But you’re the one who did. You do just as much for us as Rick does. I think you need to realize how much people appreciate it. How much I appreciate it.” The corner of her mouth turned up into a small smirk, “When you’re not being a bully. Sorry about that by the way. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“You can’t tell people how to grieve,” Daryl said to her and she stopped for a moment. Her gaze raised to Daryl and she released his hand as she spotted the small smile on his face.

“You’re right. You can’t. Now just shut your mouth and give me your other hand,” Dove rolled her eyes as Daryl placed his hand in hers. It felt good to finally be able to make things right.

----

@crossbowking​ @momc95​ @chaotic-gary-king-stan​

[blackypanther9]

Part 32 - Destiny...

Your POV....

We were almost there. I had a feeling that Laufey will hate me, after I told him the truth. I mean... I can't hide Loki from him any longer. He would find out someday anyway. So better now than never. I was in my thoughts planning my words and how I tell him this in a gentle way. I mean, I am not like Odin. Just telling the truth and then handle it. I want to handle it while I tell him. I don't throw it out like Odin. I tell it gentle. Suddenly someone grabbed my shoulder and I snapped out of it. I looked at Lence. He looked at me worried.

"What is it, Lence ?"

"Did you even hear what I told you ?"

"No... Sorry I zoned out..."

"Because ?"

"...Nothing..."

"Lucifer..."

"I need to tell Laufey something in a very gentle way. I am worried he will hate and kill me, when he knows..."

"Knows of what ?"

"Be a grave, about that, okay ?"

"I swear."

"Laufey had a son, right ?"

He nodded.

"And he is reported as dead, right ?"

Lence nodded again.

I sighed.

"He is still alive.", I said.

"WHAT ?!"

He stared at me in surprise and shock.

"Laufey’s son...he is still alive. I see his face almost every day. He lives in Asgard."

"That...that are great news !", he said happily.

"I know, but how he came there and why...is not great. Who took him, who gave the idea, who is he, what is he like, is he good, how was he treated and all these questions... and then the worst one....'Can I meet him one day'. That is the problem."

Lence's grin disappeared. He frowned.

"Why ? Is he in prison ?"

"No ! He hates his own race, because he heard stories about us, which aren't true. We were the monsters under children’s bed, ready to eat them and all that. We are a horror story in Asgard."

"Oh boy... Laufey won't like that part. Odin is the monster. He always was. Remember Hela ? Boy was that a bitch in armor.", Lence said with much hatred.

"Yeah. I heard stories about that. She killed the Valkyries. Not even one survived."

"And with who was she related ?"

"Don't. Please. They aren't ready to know that."

"Fine. But Odin used her as a killing machine. They took over the realms. He made her go crazy. And as he decided that he should protect the realms, instead of destroying them, Hela wasn't agreeing. No one could stop her and she killed everyone in her way. And then Odin set the Valkyries on her tail. She killed every single one of them. This crazy bitch still lives ! She is just in a fucking cell !"

"Yeah...But this cell is far away from Asgard and she is weak. No one ever found her and the cell. That is good."

"Yes at least that. But still I am asking myself, how twisted Odin must have been, back then."

"Well he isn't it anymore. As he banished Hela he slowly drifted up again, but then Frigga was with child. And since Frigga was with Thor pregnant, he changed completely and became someone else. And as he got his second child he changed even more. They changed him, but Odin realized he poisoned Thor with stories and his presence, so, he kept distance to his other son. Didn't go well..."

"Oh ?"

"Yeah...Let's not talk about it..."

"Okay. I understand it is a touchy subject."

"Yeah, for that person yes.", I said.

"Okay... I shut my mouth.", Lence said.

After 9 minutes he sighed.

"You can talk Lence."

"What are their names ?"

"The one with the long, blond hair and red cape is Thor Odinson. The boy with the long black hair is Loki. The woman with brown hair is called Lady Sif. Next to her the other man with the blond short hair is called Fandral. The big guy with a long beard and axe is Volstagg. And the man with the black hair in a dot is Hogun."

"Ah..Okay. Good to know."

After 8 more minutes we were at a house. He opened it and we went in.

"Lucifer ! It is nice to see you again old friend !", I heard Laufey say.

Then I saw him. He was smiling, but dropped it as he saw the others.

"Laufey...be nice. They already saw. You can drop the act now. Faker."

"What are they doing here ?", he asked coldly.

"They wanted to talk with you later. About what, is not important now. I came here to repair the damage with the casket. Then I need to have a small talk with you, like the others and there you really should drop this act, or you will get hurt. No joke Laufey."

He shook his head and went in front of Loki.

"You tried to kill me. You thought you killed me. You little piece of-"

"LAUFEY ! Don't say something you may regret later !", I warned.

"Why should I regret it ? This little piece of shit tried to murder me ! Odin’s little son of a asshole ! I won't regret anything !"

I went to Laufey and slapped him across the face. Hard.

"First: Calm the fuck down ! Second: I know that you will regret it. And third: He isn't a piece of shit. Not even Odin’s little son of a asshole. Say something again and I kick you right there where the sun never shines. Did I made myself clear ?"

Laufey took a deep breath and nodded.

"Cristal - clear."

"Thank you. And now if you excuse me, I am outside and repair Jotunheim."

I disappeared out of the door.

Frigga's POV...

Loki was hurt. I saw it. He messed up big time. I touched his shoulder, he looked at me.

"He doesn't know, okay ? Jotuns hate Asgardians. That is just hate towards Asgardians. You will see."

He nodded. I hugged him and after some moments he hugged back.

"Oh. Someone still needs his mommy to not cry. Typically Asgardians. So emotional and weak. It is so disgusting.", Laufey said.

"Laufey please stop. Destiny is right, you will be sorry later, for that.", I said.

Laufey’s eyes widen with pure shock.

"Destiny ?! She is dead !"

"No. Lucifer is Destiny. Destiny Andrea Dust. She is right outside and repairs Jotunheim for you."

"Impossible..."

"Laufey...everything is possible.", I said.

He stood up and ran outside. We followed him. We stood still as we saw that Jotunheim was almost repaired again. We saw Laufey standing in the middle of a field with snow. We saw Destiny coming to us, she didn't even see Laufey, who searched her. I smiled and pointed behind her. She turned around and giggled.

Your POV....

I turned back around to look at Frigga.

"What did you tell him, that he searches me ?", I asked.

"I told him that your real name is Destiny Andrea Dust."

I chuckled and shook my head.

"Oh boy...now I will get a death hug and a red cheek... I am so happy.", I said sarcastically.

I turned around and took a deep breath.

"Laufey ! Come in you fool !", I yelled.

He turned around and ran to me as soon as he saw me. He grabbed me by my shoulders and held me tight. He stared in my eyes.

"Are you Destiny Andrea Dust ?", he asked.

I smiled.

"Sorry...what did you say ? I believe I heard a name, but not goat. Wasn't my name goat ?", I asked him.

"...Goat...Destiny...It's- it's YOU !"

He hugged me very tight, lifted me up and spun me around.

"You are back ! You're real ! You are here !", he yelled happily.

I giggled. He laughed too.

"I thought I lost you... I have you back ! All this time the whole 342 years I had you and never realized it... You have no idea how much I missed you !"

He put me down and I saw tears coming down his cheeks. I wiped them away.

"Then why are you crying ? I am back and...we need to talk... I bet you will kill me after this...."

He looked at me confused.

"Why would I ?"

"You will soon know. Now come inside. This is serious and very painful.", I said.

"Alright...", Laufey said worried.

And with that we went back into the house. We sat down and he waited, like everyone else, I sighed.

Part 33

Masterlist with all Chapters of this Story click here !  

[skelffricat]

Good grief, Charlie Brown.

I’ve never owned an electric toothbrush. I’ve never had a dishwasher. I am the dishwasher. I like washing dishes. I never bought an iron. I don’t have a hairdryer. I find it strange that I get advertised these reusable alternatives for things that I never use anyway. Alternatives to cling film. I put another plate over the dish. Alternatives to cotton buds. I use my finger. (Ew, you may say, but surely a finger’s that size to fit in ears and nostrils? Or whatever orifice you please. Wash your hawnds.) Alternatives to cotton wool circles. What? I dont know why these thoughts have come into my head, when I want to write about my youngest child. Really, I’m meant to be working, but an annoying email from my dead daughter’s school sent me down a suicide rabbithole. Perhaps those other thoughts come about as my classic brain avoidance schemes. Like when you hoover instead of doing an essay. Positive procrastination, I used to call it. I wanted to visit some friends last night- a fun thing! but I was feeling all solitary and awkward. I cleaned the bathroom ceiling at first, instead! I had to really talk myself into going to see them. I was looking at my bed and it was saying, “Get into me! and read your book!”

Then I went, and I had a lovely time, of course. I still finished the book I was reading, when I got home at midnight, until three am, making myself ever so tired. I’ve stopped taking the tablets- beta blockers and mirtazapine (more by accident rather than design. They’re still up in the chemist waiting for me. I’m rather disorganised) and so sleep doesn’t come as readily. I have to take deep breaths for ages sometimes, to get over. And I awake in the night hearing things that aren’t there. I heard The Woodcarver calling me, one night, plain and loud as day. Another time, I heard my son knocking my door three times, sharply (or was it a burglar? I said that to someone and they laughed. Burglars don’t knock! Oh, hello there, wake up, I’m robbing you blind!) Bounced out of bed. Heart hammering. Called him. He was fast asleep. Was it her ghost? I don’t believe in ghosts, really. Kind of wish I did. She’d be a mischievous one, no doubt. Is it always 5:57am, when I awake? The same time. Time to find your dead child. 

I’m often in the house alone, now. They didn’t want to leave me alone, and there were so many people in the house, for ages. Then all of a sudden, it stopped. And I changed lovers... I changed to the one I’d been in love with for over a year, the one who seemed too young, the one who wasn’t interested. Suddenly he was interested. Well. It wasn’t sudden. It took a few weeks. Seven weeks? The seven week itch? It coincided with when the Scottish lover asked me to stop letting other people come to the house. He wanted me to himself. Which is kind of fair enough, though I knew it wouldn’t last anyway. (People coming to my house, I mean, not the relationship. I really enjoyed having a relationship with him. He is very sweet, funny, intelligent, and kind. The sex was great. He can cook wonderful food and play guitar well. I liked to sing with him. I am ashamed to say I was bothered by his being smaller than me, though. His face tended to itch me, too- he never quite grew a beard long enough to stop that. As he kept shaving it off, not because he couldn’t. That was the first time he kind of annoyed me, though.)

Lockdown doesn’t help, of course. We were all breaking rules in our grief. Covid is cancelled, my mother said. Masks off. Hugs all round. A friend told me you need extra oxytocin when you’re grieving. I was getting plenty of it. Good grief... 

Now I am frequently alone, and as my new lover is very busy studying (or perhaps less interested in me again now that he has my attention back? Though his reticence in getting with me stemmed from his concerns about the uneven nature of our interest in each other...) I haven’t seen him all week. I feel myself becoming depressed, and withdrawn, and paranoid, yet I still don't feel particularly sad about my daughter’s death. Which is strange. Isn’t it? Here is the email I received from her school this morning (it had her name and class at the top of the email): 

“Good morning

I hope this email finds you all well.

A number of years ago I signed the college up to the campaign against period poverty. I receive and distribute sanitary products to girls, primarily on free school meals, but any who are in need of the products and either can’t afford them or it is difficult to get them. The products are normally distributed by myself, during P.E and games, unfortunately this can’t happen at present.

These products are still available during the school closure. If you wish to avail of them, please contact our school info account (which is only read by one member of office staff) your request will be directed to me and I will contact you directly regarding collection.

These are difficult times for many at present and to quote my favourite supermarket, ‘every little helps’.

Kind regards...”

I was really with her until she quoted Tesco. And said they were her favourite!! Ugh! I mean, it really is a great idea. Though they really should check if the people they are writing about are still capable of bleeding. My heart bleeds....

I replied thus:

“Hello there.

Great idea, but as (my youngest daughter) has died, she won't be needing them any more. I hate Tesco- they ruin many little businesses.

Maybe take me off this mailing list?”

Then I attached one of her seven suicide notes: the one for school. Which I had previously not shown them. I only found it on Christmas Eve. Can I attach it, here? It has no names... 

There we are. Is it wrong of me to find her notes amusing? She is so angry, people say. I wonder how much of it is literal, and how much of it is using the school as a big nameless scapegoat. She was funny in the rest of them, too, and very loving. I found them comforting, like a fucked up Christmas present.

Then I started reading articles about suicide, and they were about how we shouldn’t call the people who do it selfish, about how depressed they are, how they need pity, not anger. I’m tired of the pity (though I’m not the suicidal one). I’m not producing enough sadness from myself when people pity me, either. Where is my sadness? Am I too acceptant of it all? We are all going to die. Is suicide like a C-section? Is it cheating death, like I thought my Caesareans cheated birth? Is suicide self euthanasia? Why do I not miss my daughter more? Is it because she had already left? Was she released, happy, free as a bird, swooping away on an Awfully Big Adventure? Trapezing her way into the æther? I googled to see if I could find any positive reactions to suicide. Is this my nature, to try and find the good in everything? To try and make light of the horrific? Is everything a joke to me? 

I found this blog post, from Andreas Moser.

I love it. Am I trying to take the blame away from myself? The NHS? The school? Should I be reeling and railing against the systems that let my daughter get into that state? Why am I instead trying to find ways to applaud her behaviour, accept it, even enjoy it?! When I read his words, “I admire their courage (because logical as it may be, it’s not easy) and the determination to make the ultimate decision in life oneself.” I felt a strange sensation of relief, that someone else could think those things. I had been thinking them, but trying not to, because it seemed like such an awful thing to think. But then I think, why does anyone else have to be to blame? It was her decision. 

The book I was rereading is called Life After Life, by Kate Atkinson. It’s my favourite book, I have decided, for now. Do favourites stay favourites? I was looking at my old Couchsurfing Profile today (because of Andreas’ blog- he, as a hippy hermit, is, of course, on Couchsurfing). One needs to update these every so often. Explain that you have watched another film in the last twenty years, that there is one less sofa in your living room, one less child on your earth. Even though no-one is allowed to move around, really. No visiting. No exploring. Perhaps she killed herself to escape the boredom. 

In Life After Life, the main character, Ursula, lives again and again. (I forgot that to live again and again, she had to die again and again. It's a very sad and graphic book, spanning two wars- read it. It is, ultimately, uplifting.) I wanted to read it again to make my daughter live again, and again. We need to write her alive. Show her drawings and paintings. Listen to her songs (they're hilarious). Read her poems. Admire her photographs. Tell the stories of her antics.

I know that really she was actually depressed and withdrawn. I know it isn’t a glorious escape. That her wee head was broken, and that sometimes it’s just easier to say, it was unfixable, she was determined, this is what she wanted, than to contemplate it as my (or anyone else’s) failure to help her. I know that she used to be confident and gregarious. She would have danced in front of people, inspiring others. She was always upside-down, tumbling, twirling, cartwheeling. She had a dry, cheeky wit, and rather an amusing obsession with poo and wee. She was kind, and wise. She liked to bake vegan treats. She could draw, and paint, and sing so beautifully. She played the ukelele, but by then she was hiding away. She had started to write poems- songs? She wouldn’t show us them. We had to beg her to perform on the trapeze for her Granny’s eightieth, in July. She did so, beautifully, but you could tell she hated the attention. Four months later, she hanged herself on it. 

Had we all withdrawn into ourselves, this 2020? Was there really nothing else to do? Yet I remember the start of Lockdown seeming idyllic. All that free time, all that sunshine. Was I just trying to convince myself, as usual? The only people we saw were the Woodcarver and the neighbours. She taught the wee boy next door to ride his unicycle. When she died, he brought in a picture he had drawn, of them on their unicycles, she as an angel above herself, a rainbow arcing over the three figures. His sadness affected me. I felt like I could only be sad through other people. Where is my sadness? Where is my grief? Good grief, bad grief, no grief? Alternatives to grief.

[stellar-alley]

Moonstone

•Chapter 7•

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

(Summary: The Losers have one Last Splash)

Shout out to my amazing writing partner @ _hannahisodd on Instagram for allowing me to bring her amazing artwork to life!

Also, don’t forget to check out my Instagram Stellar.Cosplays if you want to see more of me and what goes on in my life!

Shout out to my beta psychcticminds on Ao3 and psychtic.minds on Instagram!

~

The talk with his parents had been… hard. But in the end, they understood Richie’s craving to learn more about himself and his family. Andrea mentioned how dear of a friend Maggie was and how she’ll be over the moon to see her son again. That’s when it hit Richie that he would be meeting his biological parents… At that moment he looked at Andrea and Donald. They were his real parents, and nothing would change that.

Telling his parents, and Stan, that was one thing. Stan didn’t seem too surprised since he’s known Richie all his life. He’s grown used to Richie’s constant state of curiosity and demanding nature when it came to answers. So when Stan found Richie awkwardly loitering in the hallway, filled with anxiety about telling Stan the news, Stan simply wrapped Richie up in a hug and told him how he supported him no matter what he chose.

Yeah, telling the Losers was a different story.

~

Eddie’s mind was still trying to wrap around the information that Richie had just told them. I’m going to find my parents in The Dragon Lands. Everyone, except Eddie, gave different responses from “Wait really?!” to, “That’s so cool but I’m gonna miss you”. Eddie couldn’t get a single word out of his mouth.

They were all at the diner when Richie told them the news. Bill had just won yet another milkshake contest and Richie had ordered a second milkshake as he claimed “Cause I don’t know when Imma be getting myself another one of these!” he chimed in as he held up his cup.

The rest of The Losers followed suit, lifting up their cups towards the center of their semi-circle table. “To The Losers,” he proclaimed. “To the Losers,” they all cheered, but Eddie’s voice was just a little bit quieter than the rest of theirs…

Bill and Stan went off to the bathroom while Bev and Richie left to go smoke. Leaving Ben, Mike, and Eddie alone at the table while they finished their meals. Eddie kept his eyes on the half-eaten burger that laid before him, releasing yet another sigh. It caused Mike to pipe up, “Eddie you’ve sighed about 45- It was 45 right?” he nodded at Ben.

Ben pondered about it for a second then responded, “No… I counted 53.”

“Yeah, 53 times you’ve sighed and that’s only since we entered the diner,” Mike stated, but then his lips curled into a smirk, “I don’t even wanna think about how many times you’ve sighed today-”

“What’s your fucking point?” Eddie snapped.

Mike immediately shot back, not in an aggressive way but in his ‘This is important and I’m concerned’ friend way. “Eddie we’re worried!”

“Yeah you’ve been really distant today,” Ben pointed out, sympathy laced his voice.

“Oh… Sorry if my sighing ruined your day” Eddie rolled his eyes, put his elbow on the table, leaned on his hand, and looked away from them. “Mine has been pretty shitty,” He almost whispered.

That was all Mike needed to prove his point, “It’s Richie isn’t it? Cause he’s-”

“Don’t, okay? Fuck that’s all we’ve talked about since we heard the news. My boyfriend is leaving, fucking great alright, fan-fricken-tastic,” Eddie groaned, his heart twisting within his chest at the thought of Richie leaving.

Ben and Mike exchanged a glance. Without saying a word they both could tell they had to try to help Eddie. They both shuffled a little closer to Eddie, one on either side.

Ben spoke first, “I don’t even wanna begin to imagine what you’re going through-”

“Then don’t fucking try ‘cause it sucks,” Eddie fumed, his fingers curling into fists with all of his pent up anger.

“Let me finish,” Ben’s tone stayed the same, calm, supportive. “Just try and see it through Richie’s eyes. His entire life he’s been kept in the dark, he had to figure out all of his dragon side on his own. Do you know how hard that must’ve been for him? Being the only dragon born in the entire city probably. What if you were the only elf? Hmm?” He hummed in questioning. “Eddie, Richie doesn’t know how to fly, and he’s a dragon. He doesn’t even know how to control these new powers or whatever they are,” Ben pointed out.

Eddie’s heart twisted at that, his expression turning from anger to sadness.

“And now he finds out he’s a prince, of a whole kingdom. Of course he’s gonna wanna go back. How do we expect him to keep living his life in the dark when he has the chance to be in the light?” Ben paused when Eddie looked turned to look at him.

Mike continued, “He’s not leaving forever either, it’s Richie! He’ll be back, you of all should know how much of a pain in the ass he is to get rid of.”

That made Eddie chuckle, “Yeah, he is a pain in my ass,” he agreed.

“Did someone say my name?” Richie had a shit-eating grin plastered over his face as he approached the table with Bev in tow.

“Ah speak of the devil,” Eddie’s gut untwisted when he smiled up at Richie. Ben had slid out of the booth to talk to Beverly so Eddie sat on the edge and looked up at Richie.

Richie leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Eddie’s shoulders. He bent down and pressed his forehead on top of Eddie’s soft hair. After a moment passed he lifted his head up to look at Eddie, “Let’s do something tonight. I want one last night with my Eds.”

“Yeah of course- where?” Eddie asked.

Richie smirked, “I know a place.”

~

“Your roof? This is the place you want to take me on our last night together?!” Eddie whisper shouted at Richie who was standing outside his bedroom window, on the roof.

“Oh come on Eds! It’s sentimental,” Richie insisted.

“How the fuck is it-“

“What was it, 9, 10 years ago we came to this very spot when you guys came over for a sleepover! It was the first time I ever opened up to someone about constellations, and Lyra,” Richie’s voice grew serious as he recalled the memory.

Eddie stopped in his tracks, a wave of memories came back to him. “Oh…” his voice trailed off, “You’re right,” he realized.

Richie hummed, “yeah I know,” he flashed Eddie a half-smile. Richie reached his hands out, through the window and towards Eddie.

The elf glanced away but soon held his hands up to meet Richie’s. He allowed the dragon to lead him out of the room and onto the roof.

The lovers got comfortable on the roof. They cuddled up against each other, knowing that they won’t have that many chances to do this again before Richie left. The dragon had curled himself up into a ball, both of his arms were wrapped around Eddie’s torso with his head buried inside his chest.

Eddie had his cheek resting on top of Richie’s head, his legs all tangled up with the others with his arms wrapped around his chest.

Richie slowly lifted his head from Eddie's chest so he was able to look up at his boyfriend, “This isn't the end… You know that, right?” he asked quietly.

Eddie's eyes hardened as he remembered the hard truth of their reality, “Then why does it feel like it,” he said in a grim ton.

“Eds… You know I'd never abandon you, right?” Richie gasped when Eddie hesitated, “come on! We're Richie and Eddie, best pals, partners in crime, Losers and Lovers,” Richie tilted his head up and softly kissed Eddie's lips, “You know you mean the world to me, right? I'd go to the moon and still always come back to you,” he cooed.

Eddie chuckled, “You do like the moon,” he pointed out with a smirk as he kissed Richie back. “Write every day,” he softly demanded.

“My thoughts exactly. This won't be forever, I just need answers,” Richie whispered and kissed his boyfriend again.

~

He said he would only be gone a week or so, but for some reason, it felt different. They felt as if by Richie discovering his other side, he'd forget the side he always had. In the end, they wanted the best for him, and if that meant leaving them, then so be it. But he was still leaving nonetheless, and the Losers couldn't let him leave without a party.

“SURPRISE!” The 6 Losers exclaimed the moment Richie got down the ladder to the clubhouse.

Richie nearly leaped out of his own skin. “AH!” He screeched. “Jesus you scared the fucking scales off of me,” he sighed, catching his breath.

“What did you think we’d let you leave without a celebration?” Mike asked as he clapped a hand on Richie’s back.

“Yeah, we had to have one last splash with all seven of us,” Ben chimed in with a smile.

Richie’s heart warmed at the gesture, “Aw guys…” Richie sighed with love, “but you know I won’t be gone forever right?” Richie arched an eyebrow. His heart almost ached and how easily his friends thought he’d abandon them.

“But s-st-still! We wanted to wi-wish you good luck,” Bill chimed in.

“Yeah plus- when was the last time we threw a good party-?” Beverly asked. She was met by cricket sounds in the silence of the clubhouse, “Exactly!” She exclaimed, “So let’s just have a good fucking time,” she nodded.

~

And a good time they had.

Ben played one of his classic well picked playlists on the speakers of his boombox while the Losers ate their feelings away with the large assortment of food they all brought. They played cards and board games, traded stories and gossiped.

Richie and Beverly had stepped out for a smoke break when Bill called Beverly back inside. “Be right back,” She informed Richie before she climbed back down into the clubhouse.

“I’ll be here” Richie waved his half done cigarette as her red head disappeared. When he was finally left alone with his own thoughts, everything finally set in.

I’m leaving tomorrow, leaving The Losers, to go to the Dragon Lands, to find my birth parents…

He was snapped out of his thoughts when- “Hey Rich, come back down for a sec!” Ben called, his eyes poking out from the entrance to the clubhouse.

“Coming,” Richie called out. He dropped his cigarette butt onto the ground and smooshed it with the toe of his shoe, in hopes of not starting a forest fire. Then he made his way over to the open trap door of the Clubhouse and began his descent.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I’d like to present to you Richard Toizer-” Mike announced the moment Richie stepped onto the floor. “- The Prince of the Losers,” he declared.

Richie’s eyes went wide, he realized that the Losers were lining the entrance with big smiles as they all bowed down to him. He was momentarily shocked before he realized what was happening and of course he had to play along. “Oh yes! Thank you my loyal subjects for this kind greeting,” Richie waved in his best (worst) British accent.

When they all stood up again, Stanley stepped out of line to go retrieve something from his bag in the corner. When he returned he held one of those classic gold crowns you can buy from your local dollar store. The fake blue and red gems shined as Stanley straightened up.

“And he wouldn’t be a prince without his crown,” when he finally lifted his eyes, they were glossy as he held back tears. “Your Highness,” He said. The thought of Richie leaving caused his voice to become quieter than it had been.

Richie’s heart clenched at the sight of his brother, on the verge of tears, something that was very unlike Stan. Richie slowly approached Stan, tilting his head down once he stood in front of his brother.

Stan inhaled sharply, his hands shook lightly as they raised the crown up and carefully placed it upon Richie’s mess of dark curls.

When the crown was in place, Richie raised his head to meet Stan’s gaze, “How do I look?” He flashed his (slightly crooked) pearly whites.

“You look great, Rich,” Stan gave him a small, warm smile before he announced, “Your Prince, Richie, The Prince of The Losers.”

Word Count: 2053

Wow this is a lot shorter than I thought it'd be. But it is what it is, and I'm tired so it's gonna be a shorter chapter. Next chapter is gonna be an emotional one though so get ready!

Even this authors note is gonna be short cause that's all from me,

Until next time, as always

So Long and Goodnight

~

[Taglist]

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Let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list!

[dontdietwd]

Day 140

There was a knock on the front door. I was alone at the house, wearing pajamas and socks and slowly got up from the couch to go open it. I could smell a cake baking. It was all peaceful, quiet, just warm enough, and yet… I felt empty. There was no joy even if I knew things were good in this house. I moved robotically to the door and opened it. Light came from outside, white and bright, blinding me. I raised my hands to cover my eyes and try to see who’d knocked but for long seconds I couldn’t.

“Who’s there?” I asked

“It’s me.”

That voice… My heart burst in my chest. It was him. It was Daryl!

“I can’t see you!” I said lowering my hands trying to see even with the light.

“I’m here. I’m right here,” he told me.

“Daryl!”

I took a step to go thought the door, to try and see him, touch him, but as soon as I crossed it I was in the woods, the light gone, Daryl gone. I was alone there, looking around confused, still frantically calling out to him.

There was a walker fallen on the ground and I moved there to see it. Looking down, I saw it had been taken down with an arrow. It was stick perfectly in the middle of its forehead. Daryl. I bent down and pulled it off the skull and held it to my face to see it. He’d been here. Finally, a sign that he was around after so long!

“Daryl!!” I called, hoping he’d hear me. “Daryl, where are you?!”

Movement behind me got me turning suddenly, arrow still in hand and then… I screamed. My heart stopped, my chest was ripped and my world crumbled. He was there, right in front of me… Turned and stumbling to me, jaws open and hungry like every walker, but this was Daryl, his eyes dead, his body decaying, smelling putridly. And he was coming to me and I couldn’t move, hand clutching the arrow. Something moved in me and I looked down at my stomach and could see the baby moving in there, strongly, visibly. And then Daryl was on me, too close for me to be able to defend myself, grabbing me, scratching, inches away from biting me.

I screamed and cried and tried to fight him by my limbs felt heavy and his hands were tight on my shoulders, now shaking me strongly.

“Sam? Sam!” It was Michonne and I was in my bed, still screaming. Reality came back to me slowly as I looked at my sister, breathing hard. “Just a dream! You’re okay. Look at me, you’re fine, you’re okay…”

She hugged me like she would hug a child and shushed me, petting my hair, rocking me in her arms as I sobbed. I tried to speak as I cried but I don’t think Michonne could understand a word. I was saying I had seen him, he’d been there but he wasn’t there, and that he’d been turned, and that I needed him, I needed to find him.

I missed him like hell, my life only half happening, the other half frozen, waiting to move on, at the last night we spent together, when he told me he loved me and that this was his child.

Where was he? Where the fuck was he?

He had to be here now. We had a place. We were safe, we were eating well, growing things, we had chickens! The baby was growing and moving, and he had tried to feel it once, he could feel it now! He had to be here, why wasn’t he? Why did this had to happen, what kind of fucked up life was that that brought us something so, so good and then ripped it off our hands like that? He had to be here! They all had to, this could be the community I had dreamed of for everyone, why weren’t them all here?

It was all good. We had problems, of course, but overall, things were good. We’d found very smart chickens inside the walls, hiding and finding their own food on the grass and under the trees, able to escape the walkers that had been in there by hiding. Smart, smart chickens. When we cut off the grass with gardening tools we looted from a store in the nearest little town, they showed up scaring the living hell out of us, and then we started feeling them and they grew used to us, becoming more docile with time. They were all free, out of the chicken coop, going in there on their own to sleep at night. We needed to find a rooster now and we’d have eggs and more chickens. We had fruit trees, some that would not normally be found in Georgia, and we were eating well, and soon the vegetables we’d planted from the seeds we found at the same gardening store would be blooming.

The water part was not easy but it was manageable. The house had none, of course. It would be dreaming too much hoping there would be a well inside the property like there was at the farm… But we did find a small farm nearby that had it. The farmhouse had been destroyed by a fire and nothing in there could have helped us, except for the well. Twice a week we went there with a truck and several barrels and buckets we’d gathered and brought back enough water for the tree of us to drink, cook, wash and flush, for the chickens, and for the plants when it didn’t rain for long.

So it was working. Michonne, Andrea and I had been together for about two months now. My relationship with Andrea had taken a complete turn, it was something else. I had taught her to fight with no weapons, self-defense, and now really knowing now to fight she felt more confident, but not as she tried to be before. Not it was real, now it didn’t seem forced anymore like it had been. She was going though many changes, physically and psychologically, and I had decided I’d be there for her for whatever she needed. She was my sister now.

Now, with Michonne… We had a history. We had a past, and a strong one at that. When she moved away from Savannah on 11th grade I thought I’d never see her again. I had let her down multiple times during out two-year friendship then and I had been sure she was better off without a friend like me.

“Why the hell would you think that?” Michonne asked me once when I told her that.

“I broke promises to you, Mich… More than once.”

“You had a problem, Sam,” Michonne told me firmly. “I knew that every time you promised, you wanted to go through with it.”

“I did want to…”

“So that’s what counts. At the moments you made the promises, you were being truthful. But your decease, your addiction was stronger than you. I went through it the wrong way, I know now… Keeping asking you to promise me you would quit, that was not the right way to go.”

“It was your best, that’s what’s important. Don’t matter if it was the right or wrong way to do it. It was more important to me to have someone that cared as much as you did.”

She nodded with a sad smile, looking down, “You were my best friend. I just wanted to see you well.”

“I know… I wish I had been well enough for it to be… You know… Enough. Today it would be, with the person I am now.”

She smiled, “That’s gotta count for something.”

“Well, life did bring us together again, right? You were always supposed to be my sister!”

She laughed nodding and we hugged tearfully. Michonne had been so, so special to me… I had known her for a long time at school but then one day in the first week of 10th grade I walked up to her, asked her about her dreads because I’d been wanting to get them done too, and that was it. We were together until her parents had to move away from Savannah at the second semester of 11th grade, and we’d never met again. I’d quit school not even a week after her departure.

Michonne had been opening up a bit more, slowly. At the beginning she didn’t even explain the walkers she had on leashes, just told us that they kept the other walkers away for some reason, and they did help quite a lot while we were on the road, but they didn’t keep all of them away. Big crowds still closed in on us even with them. One day Michonne had one of their heads cut off by accident when we got surrounded, and when the fight was over she was kind of shocked with that. Quietly she moved to the second one and killed it too, and never spoke of it. Andrea and I still didn’t know what they had meant or what had happened to her before finding us, but she would tell us on her own time, we didn’t press.

And it was on this day that she did. It got me crying ‘till the end.

Michonne had a son. A baby boy, two years old, named Andre. She lived with her boyfriend and had gone to a refugee center at the outbreak with him, Andre and a friend. It all went well for a while, but one time she went out to go find useful stuff, food, medicine, and when she returned to the center, it was all gone, overrun, nobody had survived. She found her friend and boyfriend turned near the drugs they had been taking, making them useless to defend themselves and Andre. Michonne had lost her son, her everything. My heart was tiny I my chest just to imagine her pain. She was so mad with grief, so enraged, that she made sure the two walkers were not able to bite or scratch and had tied them to chains. Michonne was looking at a wall, not seeing anything, her eyes filled with tears as she told me.

“I was somebody else, Sam. Not me. Not the one you knew. I was gone, faraway. I kept them with me as a reminder to not trust anyone. He was Andre’s father and yet didn’t protect him. If this had not been trustable, nothing else would ever be. So I walked, and walked. Moved south. Wanted to find Savannah but I don’t even know why. I just… Walked. My mind went blank for long periods; I’d be faraway when I came back to myself. I was not me.”

Then she blinked and looked at me, the tears rolling down her face. “And then I found you. You and Andrea brought me back. Your dreams and plans brought me back. Your hope to find somewhere safe and to find your group, your family, brought hope back to me. It brought me back.”

She got me crying like a baby.

 * * *

 I had never been much into cars. Couldn’t figure what was the big deal. I’d wished I had one for transportation, but wouldn’t have cared about brands or models or whatever. But now I’d found this black H3 Hummer in a locked up garage and I adored it. It was my car. With time each one of us had found a good one and took it for ourselves.

I looked fucking great in it.

I’d go out alone at least one a week. Michonne and Andrea didn’t approve it, but it was something I just had to do. Had to. I’d go back to the main road, sometimes nearly got back to the farm, then circled back, entered the side roads, the neighborhoods, other farms. Always looking… For them, for any sign they’d been there, for arrows, just anything that’d help me keep my hopes up, and it was always the same. There were signs of people, but no way of knowing if it was them, no goddam arrows. If Daryl had been there, anywhere I was, he was taking the used arrows back so he wouldn’t run out of them. That was smart… But I wished he’d leave at least one behind.

Please just leave one behind…

Nothing… Again. But I refused to let my hopes die. What would I be without them? What would I de fighting for? I had to still believe, as I returned on my way home, that next week there would be something. Someone, some sign, some trail, anything.

The worst part of it all was that I knew nobody was looking for me. Daryl was not trying to find my trail. He’d be just moving on with his life, protecting the group, making sure they found a place, but not looking for me. He thought I was dead, why would he? He’d have found me already, my Daryl, such an outstanding tracker. He’d have found me. I wished I’d learned it from him. I’d have asked him to teach me if I’d known…

But how would I have known?

If I wasn’t distracted thinking about this one more failed search, I’d probably have noticed, but I didn’t. I just drove straight home and brought this group of men straight no our gate.

I’d been back for about half hour when there was a strong, loud knock on the wooden gate. We froze where we were at the car as we unpacked things I’d gathered today – of course, I didn’t just wander around looking for them, I’d also take useful things back home. Today it had been real long parachute cord, a few pairs of boots and a box of ground coffee – and were silent for a long moment, minds working fast, hearts accelerating.

“Come on, I know you’re in there!” a male voice said when we didn’t make a sound. “Saw you getting in. Blond girl in a huge Hummer?”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Our weapons were in our hands already as we thought of what to do, who the fuck was this? It was not a voice I’d heard before. Someone had followed me, stupid, stupid distracted, dreamer ass!

“What do we do?” Andrea whispered.

“We just wanna talk!” the man said again. “You gotta have a group in there, just let me talk to your leader! It’s all I want, to talk!”

“Ok”, I whispered to them, who turned to look at me waiting for instructions. “I’ll go up the latter and talk to them. They don’t know it’s just us, they don’t have to know. I’ll say… I ain’t the leader, the leader’s a man and he’s inside and sent me to see who it was.”

They nodded, agreeing it was important for them to think the leader was a man. Fucking sexist world even after the goddam apocalypse.

So I replaced my weapons around my waistband, had guns on a holster, took a deep breath calming down as we walked over to the gate. We had a tall wooden ladder there on the ground, which they helped me put up, and I climbed it.

There were four cars parked there. At least four man out and by each of them, heavily armed with fire weapons, all heads turning to me as I appeared over the wall. In front of them it was clear who was the leader. He smiled pleasantly up at me.

“Ah, the Hummer girl!” and he opened his arms, not carrying guns but with a pistol on his waistband. “Nice to see you up close!”

“How can we help you?” I asked.

“Let me introduce myself first. My name is Philip, but they call me Governor,” don’t laugh, Sam. Seriously, Governor? What a haughty ass. “I run a community a few miles south of here. And you?”

What now? Real name, fake one, who’s our leader? Go with middle name.

“I’m Lynn, nice to meet you. How can we help you, Governor?”

He took a second to answer, a little smile playing on his lips, and then said with the most condescending tone I’d ever heard, “Are you the leader?”

“Jack is our leader,” I said easily, my father’s name flowing out of my lips without a thought. “He sent me. You can tell me how we can help you and I’ll let him know.”

He laughed. The mothefucker actually laughed and I just knew then. No good. No good at all. My wrist ached my I just tilted my head, not laughing with him as he looked back and around at his men, who were laughing quietly as well, and I waited.

“Well, as I am certain that Jack is right inside this gate listening to every word I say, I’ll go with it then, Lynn.”

“Please go ahead,” I told him, trying to keep my cool.

“I see you have a community going on here, just like I do. My town’s called Woodbury. I’d like to invite you… And Jack, for a meeting where we can discuss the potential future of our communities regarding trading and partnerships that I am certain would benefit us all.”

Would have sounded good if I believed a single word he was saying.

“I see. Interesting… But what do you have that might interest us?”

He laughed again, quicker this time. “A whole town, Lynn. People, supplies, food, water… Artillery. Everything that is of interest these days.”

I was quiet, thinking for a moment. Artillery, he said. I looked at the men behind him and, sure enough, there were rifles, pistols and more than one fucking machine gun. Machine guns! If he ordered them to attack now we’d be done.

I needed time.

“South, you said?”

“Thirty miles or so,” he said nodding. “It’s on the maps, there’s no missing it.”

I paused and looked around. I knew those looks. The Governor was at least acting, but he should take more care with his men. Their intentions were all but written on their faces. Most of them eyed me with that look some men eye women as if they’re a product, something to consume.

There would be no business with this man. No trade, no relationship. This would end bad and we were just three when he clearly had a whole town and artillery. I needed to buy time, needed to gather my thoughts, decide what to do.

“Sounds interesting. Too good to be true?” I asked him.

“Not at all. It can be good, and this is up to you.”

I nodded, “We’ll gather to discuss it and come to a decision. We might show up for a visit at Woodbury, to see the town and have a meeting with you. How does that sound?”

He nodded quietly with a little smile for a few seconds before finishing. “Sounds terrific. I’ll be looking forward to your visit.”

And at that he looked back over his shoulder, nodded and all the men started getting into the cars again. He looked at me again, nodded and held my look with his head down, his eyes betraying him. No friendship here.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Volume 2, Chapter 18

"See she's telepathic Call it black girl magic Yeah she scares the gov'ment Deja Vu of Tubman

We go missing by the hundreds Ain't nobody checkin for us Ain't nobody checkin for us…"

"Blk Girl Soldier" – Jamila Woods

The morning is a whirlwind of activity and excitement.

Negra Lia and her entire family had a catered breakfast at her parent's house near the polling site where the family would cast their votes. N'Jobu watched Erik prance around in his new t-shirt and new black khakis. Califia untwisted his hair and let him rock a 'fro to match hers. Erik was a Mama's boy, and N'Jobu couldn't fault him for it. Especially when your mother was a badass.

A priest from the local church came by the house and gave Lia a blessing prior to everyone tucking into the gourmet breakfast. A TV played in the background and everyone caught the news coverage of polling stations having long lines. Lia had captured the imagination of the young, Black, disenfranchised, working poor, and the queer community. Although it was just the city council, N'Jobu sensed that the people in the community saw Lia as their champion, that perhaps with her unapologetic Blackness and her support for them and their needs, that real change was a possibility. She was a local girl who made good. City council was just the start. The energy pouring out in the streets and on TV was just the beginning of a new day in Sao Paulo politics. Axiel and other supporters were sponsoring carpools to help get people in the favelas to their polling places. Lia looked happy but also worried. When she stepped outside to get some air, N'Jobu followed her.

"How are you holding up?" he asked while sipping on orange juice.

Lia's eyes were coal black, the eyes of someone who could take the world by the throat and shift it on its axis. Her hair was wrapped in a yellow headwrap and the shade of raisin brown lipstick she wore complimented her glowing skin.

"I'm feeling the pressure," she said.

"You have this on lock," he said.

"I don't want to disappoint them if I don't win. They all have their hopes and dreams pinned to me, and I can't fail them again," she said. For the first time, her eyes looked vulnerable and unsure. He moved closer to her.

"No matter what, you have inspired the people around you to strive for more power to help themselves. All these young people…they are on fire."

"I hope they can carry on and stay invested in politics if this doesn't go the way they want."

"They will."

Lia gave a deep sigh and rubbed the back of her neck.

"The problem we have is waiting for some great savior to come down and fix everything. There can't be one leader. There have to be many, in all communities…when we put our hopes into one person we often get into trouble."

"What would you like to see happen?"

Lia glanced out at the street and clasped her hands in front of her thighs.

"Black strongholds all over the world. Many leaders…many women…. running communities and connecting together, sharing ideas on what works and doesn't work to help us move forward as a people. Less in-fighting and power grabbing or even clout chasing…."

She spoke in Portuguese for a second to find the right English word and then she stared at N'Jobu.

"I want heaven on earth for all of us right now. No more struggling just to survive. We need to thrive and flourish. All of us in the diaspora…on the continent from where we came from too. Free education, free healthcare, affordable housing for all…prison reform and then abolition. Transformative justice. That is my dream…no, those are my goals."

"Big goals."

She smiled and tapped her head.

"Ah, but if we put our mind to it, we can do it. I just have to play my part. Right now, city council…next time something bigger."

She shook her hands with nervous energy. "We should go to the polls now," she said.

N'Jobu took her hand and squeezed it. He spoke to her in Wakandan and her eyes glanced at his lips for a second when she heard him give a click with his tongue.

"What did you say?"

"I'll tell you after you win," he teased. She gave him a playful tap on his shoulder and he followed her back inside the house.

"Are we ready to leave?" She asked everyone inside. Her boyfriend Oscar grabbed his car keys and everyone divided up into the car groupings they would go in over to the polls. N'Jobu and his family were riding with Lia's parents in their minivan. Their small caravan pulled out and N'Jobu could feel Erik's excited energy as he sat next to him. Califia chatted with Lia's parents and N'Jobu watched the scenery out of the car window.

"Mom told me you have to leave early," Erik said. They were sitting in the back of the mini-van.

"I do."

"Why?"

"Some things came up at work and I have to solve some problems there."

Erik's eyes went to his beads.

"Mom looked sad when she told me. Are you guys okay?"

N'Jobu was taken aback by his question.

"What made you ask that?"

He shrugged.

"Mom looks happy most of the time, but this morning she kept looking at you and…I dunno…she looked kinda sad. Did you have a fight last night, Baba?"

N'Jobu glanced up toward the front of the minivan. Califia and Lia's parents were busy speaking loud Portuguese and ignoring the back of the car.

"No. We didn't have a fight. She is sad that I can't go to the museum with you on Friday. She likes us all being together and she doesn't want me to miss Aunt Lia winning."

Erik smiled.

"Auntie Lia is going to be a President one day."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

Erik's nose scrunched up as he thought about the question. He looked like Califia at that moment.

"A computer designer and programmer with my own company. Or an architect."

"Hmmm, I thought maybe you might want to be an archeologist or a scientist—"

"Oh yeah, those too."

N'Jobu rubbed his son's head. His brilliant little boy.

"You can be whatever you want to be, my Son."

The minivan pulled into the parking lot of an elementary school. N'Jobu saw that the line to vote wrapped around the building. He slipped on his dark glasses and pulled a baseball cap on his head. There was a news crew waiting by the entrance. N'Jobu hung back behind the reporters and out of the way, blending in with the background. Two male news reporters thrust mics in front of Lia's face, cameras bright and close.

N'Jobu didn't know what they were saying, but he was sure it had to be about her casting her vote and her hopes for the outcome. Califia and Erik stood to the side with Marisol and Aunjanue.

Lia's parents, Soliel, and her friends stood in line to cast their support and Lia herself was filmed being escorted into the polling booth directly so she could vote. It didn't take her long to go inside the private booth and make her choices. When she came out, she flashed the peace sign on both hands and the crowd of people waiting in line clapped. Lia walked to the end of the line to join her family. Califia left Erik with Aunjanue and Marisol and sauntered over to the background where he was standing and watching. She clasped her hand in his.

"This is it," she said.

He nodded.

"Oscar said he can give you a ride to the airport tomorrow."

N'Jobu put his arm around her and pulled her in tight so that she was against his chest. He kissed her forehead.

"Lia is lucky to have you rooting in her corner. I saw all the work you put into helping her campaign. Organizing the young people, working on her social media and every little detail to make this a success. This is a win for you too."

She wrapped her arms around his waist.

"I wish I didn't have to go," he whispered to her.

"We'll be back in Oakland with you soon enough."

She tilted her head up and puckered her lips. He kissed her and felt her body relax against him.

They both turned to watch the voters make their way through the line.

N'Jobu thought of Califia's work in Oakland. He thought of her activism there and the need she had to change what was around her. It mirrored Lia in so many ways. Soliel was the same way, her activism focused on protecting the fragile same-sex rights that had been hard won since she had married Aunjanue and gave birth to Marisol. For N'Jobu, it felt like an unfair burden to carry. These women could not live comfortable lives or even live for themselves without external pressure encroaching on their right to life and liberty. They couldn't be happy unless all were happy.

He hated to admit that he wished Califia didn't use so much of her time worrying about others when they were first reunited. But it was the thing that made her who she was. If she weren't that way, how different would she be? Would he have fallen in love with her?

The first time he had ever saw her was in the middle of her bursting into a room bringing a righteous energy to a crowd and encouraging them to protest a racist writer. If she had been a typical university student talking to him about her classes and who made the best coffee for cramming sessions, he may have overlooked her. But she came in like the fire of Sekmet with her form-hugging biker clothes and daggers in her eyes. His old lover Andrea had caught his interest with a fat ass and compliant nature, but Califia's sharp tongue and call to the masses had won his heart. After that, she was always on his mind. Even when he was juggling women back in the day, getting his dick wet as much as he could because he could, it was Califia and her assertive drive to shape the world that forced him to turn her way. Her influence on him over the years changed him and his worldview. She was the catalyst for him finally admitting to himself that he wanted out of the palace. He wanted a life of his own, but to have that life, it meant looking out for the life of others in a more profound way.

He could freely admit that his woman gave him new eyes. And those new eyes turned to look at his own country and really allowed him to see how seclusion and secrecy was…what? Wrong? Selfish? Without her, would he be sitting in the palace now with Zinzi looking no further outside of Wakanda except for the occasional trips he would have to make to the U.N. and worrying about nothing so pressing as to what he would wear to a royal event? Would he have children that were nothing like Erik, who expected things to be handed to them because they had wealth and protection?

N'Jobu watched his son as he spoke to Lia and Marisol, and a chill ran through him. His little boy was so much more than what his own nephew T'Challa could ever be. His nephew lived in a bubble just as N'Jobu had lived. It was an extreme world of privilege, high-tech, and insular thinking. It was also a small world that had the capacity to make one not have empathy. This was the thing that Califia gave him. The tipping point that shifted his mind. He was sympathetic to the troubles of people outside of Wakanda when he first arrived in America, but honestly, beyond that, it wasn't his problem or concern. Califia taught him empathy. And this made him look outward.

It shook him to his core at that moment to know that she made him free. Made him want more for others. Especially for her and their son.

N'Jobu squeezed Califia's waist and let his chin rest in her hair.

Bast be a rock.

They were inside the local community center that Soliel created. It was a small building that served a vibrant neighborhood and it was packed with supporters.

Califia was drinking an overly sweet punch when the final vote was tallied and Lia received the phone call that she had won her seat on the city council. They all watched Lia cover her face with her hands after she burst into tears. Her boyfriend Oscar scooped her up and her family clamored for hugs. Marisol and Erik hugged Lia's waist as she stared around the room, her face full of shock.

N'Jobu stood next to Califia and his smile was so big and bright, she could only grab onto his arm and squeeze his bicep. Lia ran to her and Soliel and threw her arms around them both in a big hug.

"This couldn't be done without you two," Lia said. When she stood back, her face looked like it had really registered that her political career was beginning. All the talks over wine and food late into the night over years of strategic planning to win over minds and canvassing the neighborhood had paid off. Her foot was in the door. Now all she had to do was stick to her convictions and push reform. Within the hour of winning, Lia was outside the center giving a victory speech to reporters, her face back on tv again. The entire neighborhood felt like it had won. Califia and N'Jobu watched her speech from inside on the tv with Califia translating for him.

"She is talking about her critics hating her left-leaning politics and how her opponent, that asshole Nobrega, will no longer be allowed to hide his cover-up of extrajudicial killings by police officers in the favelas…"

They could hear the crowd of supporters outside cheering Lia's words about the police and city corruption. Nobrega was a former cop turned politician, and N'Jobu thought he had the face of a mindless weasel. He was racist, homophobic, and a champion of militias and right-wing extremism. Throughout the campaign, he kept referring to Lia as a troublesome black rat who would damage the city. An ugly little man in N'Jobu's eyes. He overheard Erik calling him "mancha de merda" to Marisol at the Catalina restaurant, and Califia looked shocked that he said that and reprimanded him at the table. When he asked Califia what Erik had said, she whispered in his ear, "Our son called him a shit stain." N'Jobu had laughed.

There was a small party at Lia's house that evening out on the patio, and part of the time was spent with Califia and Erik watching N'Jobu pack his things. They had finally put the mattress back on the box spring and Califia and Erik sat on the bed.

"Tomorrow we'll be at the swearing in and then the luncheon until one, and then we'll head back here for dinner. My Dad said to call him when you get into Atlanta and he'll be at the airport waiting for you," she said as she watched him pack away a few shirts and some souvenirs.

Erik kept watching her face and she wondered why he was so intent on being so hugged up near her. He was doing the same to N'Jobu.

"You okay, JaJa?" she asked him while rubbing her hand on his curls.

He nodded, but he gave furtive glances to his father.

"What is it, Son?" N'Jobu said sitting on the other side of Erik.

They both saw two tears run down both sides of Erik's face and then he was pressing his head against Califia's chest. She put a protective arm around him.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't want Baba to leave."

"I'm just going for work—"

Erik shook his head against Califia.

"Something's wrong," he wailed and Califia patted his back to try and calm him down.

N'Jobu pulled Erik away from Califia and held his chin with his hand forcing the boy to look his way.

"Speak," N'Jobu said.

"It doesn't feel good—"

"What doesn't feel good?" N'Jobu said wiping Erik's face.

"You guys. It feels different."

"What are you worried about?" Califia asked. Her eyes had glanced over at N'Jobu's and he looked as puzzled as she felt. But Erik was sensitive that way. He always had the ability to feel their tensions.

"Baba leaving us so early all of a sudden. And you were crying this morning when Baba took a shower. I saw you, Mom. Baba's phone was vibrating on the kitchen table and you looked at it and started crying…are you breaking up? Is Baba leaving us?"

Califia was horrified. Her baby saw her crying over her fears and thought his family was disintegrating. The look on N'Jobu's face hurt her also. When his eyes reached hers, he was now aware that she had been checking his phone. His locked phone. Califia couldn't even find the words to speak.

"No one is breaking up, JaJa. Dry your eyes. Your mother and I will always be together."

She stared at N'Jobu. There was no lie in his eyes.

"You've been worrying about that all this time today?" she asked.

He nodded, a small shudder of air leaving his lips as he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. She should've been more aware of how she was acting around her son. All of her focus had been on N'Jobu and that damn cell phone, and she had unintentionally telegraphed divorce to her baby. She held him close to her and kissed his forehead.

"We are fine—"

"But why were you crying?"

"I always miss your father whenever he leaves us. I'm just sadder now because I want him to be here to help us celebrate Aunt Lia. He's going to miss out on all the cool stuff we're going to do—"

"Yes," N'Jobu said jumping in to clean up her mess, "No museum. I can't go see the Gato waterfall with you and Marisol on Friday. Your Mom was looking forward to that, so now we'll have to do it the next time we come down-"

"And your father's phone is always ringing and disturbing him. I was upset that he will have to work early and not play with us."

Erik's chest stopped heaving and his face was now just puffy and not wet with tears.

"Feel better?" N'Jobu asked.

"Yeah," Erik said still leaning into Califia.

"Afonso said that his mom cried a lot before his Dad left them. He doesn't get to see his Dad anymore," Erik said.

Afonso was a neighborhood kid that played with Marisol.

"We are fine. You will see me back home. Give me a hug," N'Jobu said.

Erik practically leaped onto his father and Califia felt her chest heaving a bit. N'Jobu stroked the back of Erik's head, but when his eyes met hers this time, they were solemn.

"JaJa, come on!" Marisol yelled from the small livingroom.

"Your mother and I are going to talk, okay?" N'Jobu said.

Erik jumped up kissing N'Jobu's cheek and then quickly hugged Califia before he ran out to play with Marisol and Afonso. Lia had turned on music and the noise outside let them know there were more people around to give their congratulations.

Alone, Califia felt like a small gulf had sprung between her and N'Jobu.

"Checking my phone?"

She nodded, feeling her eyes well up.

N'Jobu stood up and locked the new bedroom door. He sat back down next to her.

"I do not want to see my son crying like that ever again," he said.

She couldn't tell by his voice if he was angry or upset, or even sad. His eyes were on hers and their intensity overshadowed anything else.

"I do not want you looking at my phone and wondering about my intentions or who is calling me."

He took off his shirt and slipped off his shoes and socks.

"I do not want to see you crying over me because of something you've imagined I've done to cause you harm…"

He slipped out of his pants and underwear. When he was completely naked, he widened his legs.

"Take off your clothes," he said. It was a command.

She stood up and pulled her blouse and bra off. He held her hand for balance when she kicked off her heels and pulled off her pants and bikini underwear.

Helping her straddle his lap, N'Jobu held the back of her neck with his hand.

"You have to trust me. I'm your man. Just yours. I have to take this fear out of you," he said. His voice changed.

"Califia Stevens, you belong to me. You are the mother of my son. Yours is the only bed I belong in. Understand?"

He moved his hips under her and she reached out to hold onto him. He lifted her up to adjust his penis under her so that it rested tucked between her folds, soft and warm, not even erect.

"Kiss me," he said.

She placed her lips on his and the heat from his mouth made her open hers wide to accept his thick wet tongue. His other hand held her waist and she could feel him growing underneath her. She bounced for him and his kisses became deeper.

"Our son can't cry like that anymore," he said.

His reached up and fondled her nipples, plucking them until they were stiff beneath the tips of his fingers. He looked down between her legs.

"Get that pussy ready for me," he whispered to her. He slipped his tongue around the outer shell of her ear and she could feel his warm breath hitch as her plumped up clit and ring dragged across his tip.

"Oh…girl…just like that…just like that…get that fat pussy ready for me…just me…"

She was getting wet so fast, his voice easing her pussy open…

"There it is…I see it…that look…you got Daddy's pussy together, huh?"

She groaned into his neck and he laughed at her. "Yes, you are ready for me. Dripping all on my lap…"

Laughter outside distracted her for a moment. The music was infectious and the smell of rich foods permeated the air. Lia was talking to someone over her cell phone.

His lips trapped hers again and his deep kisses engulfed any control she had over her mind and body. By the time he let her come up for air from his mouth, she was whimpering into his collar bone and her thighs were slickening his thighs with her wetness.

"You ready to sit on my dick?"

His grip was on her waist. She whispered yes into his neck but it came out like a long breathy sigh. He gripped his erection with his hand.

"Slide down this pipe, girl."

He lifted her up and she widened her thighs and slipped her fingers between her legs to guide him inside of her. She sat on him slowly and his breath became little puffs of warm air upon her neck. He kept still once her ass sat on his balls. The walls in the room vibrated with the sound of music and talking and laughter from outside. They heard Erik speaking to Andres and Soliel, and there were occasional shouts from down below on the street from people sending words of support and pride at Lia's win.

Califia shifted forward on his lap and started lifting up and down on him.

"I don't want you to worry about me being back home by myself," he grunted, his hands gripping her sides. His voice went deeper in tone as the sound of skin on skin slapping together drowned out the noise outside.

"When you come back, I'll bring you to my apartment. I'll let you get in my bed…"

Her eyes stayed on his, her lips puckered and wanting his mouth.

"I'm not fucking anyone else but you—"

She exhaled and kept her movement on his lap controlled so that the bed didn't move that much.

He lifted up from the bed with her still on his erection and moved to put her on her back on the edge of the mattress. He spread her legs and leaned over her, his thickness sliding in and out of her with a slow gentle rhythm.

"Is this what you're worried about?" he asked. His sack was like a plush gift slapping against her cheeks.

"You think someone else is getting this in my bed when I'm away from you?"

Her eyes rolled back and she turned her head to the side. She couldn't look him in the face as her pussy throbbed with just the thought of him with someone else. It was a perverse pleasure to imagine his dick hitting some other woman's spot the right way. Serah called him grade A dick and didn't mind sharing him. She could not, but it turned her on imagining the act.

"Ohhhh," he said trying to keep quiet in the room as he held her legs up.

He looked down at her and she knew he was not keeping his control with the way his face was getting tight, his jaw clenching and unclenching each time he entered her folds.

"Damn, I'm stretching this shit out," he gasped. He thrust forward and laid on top her, letting her take his full weight. The bed was groaning from their movement. She pushed up on his chest and he pulled out of her. He squeezed his balls as he watched her stand up and bend over for him, her hands pressed on the mattress.

He grabbed his cock and inserted himself back in her and soon enough he had her sucking on the sheets with her mouth trying to hide her yelps. He was having a difficult time keeping the sounds of his pleasure to himself.

"I have to fuck this good pussy… real well….I won't have it for a week…ohhhhhh…I feel you coming already…I feel you," he gritted out.

She screamed into the sheets, her hands gripping the cotton tight.

"Cum in me," she begged, her head turned to look back at him, "your dick feels amazing."

He made a sound that gave her shivers.

"I'm ready to bust—"

"Cum in your pussy—"

"Damn—"

"Nut in this pussy…"

His hand pressed down on her lower back. She rocked her ass cheeks on him.

"Bast!" he shouted and she felt him hold still as his cock spasmed in her walls. She sighed as his load kept pumping into her. Collapsing onto the bed, he pulled out from her easy, still dripping cum from his tip.

He plopped down next to her and reached above her head. He brought his cell to her face. She watched him unlock his phone.

It was always hard leaving them.

N'Jobu gave Erik and Califia tons of kisses and it was never enough. Lia's boyfriend waited patiently by his car as N'Jobu bid farewell to everyone. When he hugged Lia tight, her bright eyes made him feel blessed to know her.

"Now will you tell me what you said the other day?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

He smiled.

"When sleeping women wake, mountains move. And do not forget, however long the night, the dawn will break," he said.

"Hmmm. I like that. Thank you for being here with your family and for supporting me. We will have a good time for their last week."

"When you get some time, come visit us," he said.

"I will."

He hugged her and planted a kiss on her cheek.

"JaJa," he said and Erik jumped up in his arms. He hugged and rocked his son in his arms.

"Look after your mother. Be a good boy and I'll see you soon."

He leaned over and kissed Califia.

"You better get going, you have to be there early for international flights," Califia said.

Her face looked peaceful. They were back on track.

"Me and you in my apartment. I'll get Dante to watch Erik," he whispered. He saw her eyes twinkle.

Waving to his family and friends, N'Jobu enjoyed the drive with Oscar as they moved away from the favela and he had the opportunity to watch the scenery. He found a flight that could get him into Atlanta at a decent time. If he had to, he would contact T'Chaka there and feed him the story he sent his parents via email about attending a bachelor party. He just needed to be on American soil as soon as possible.

Once he was back in his apartment, he would start getting background info on Ulysses Klaue. And if D'Beke found that N'Jobu had enough War Dogs converted to his side, he would start planning to subvert policies back home. It would take time.

The airport was busy and his flight was delayed.

He sat in a crowded section where his gate was and watched travelers come and go. He had a couple of hours to kill, so he read a book from his burner cell to pass the time. He was looking forward to sleeping on the plane and made plans in his mind to keep busy while he was separated from Erik and Califia.

The chatter of voices around him lulled him to close his eyes.

He didn't know how much time had passed, but he fell asleep and was jolted awake by the gasp of the Black woman sitting next to him.

His eyes shot open, and he couldn't make out what the woman was saying in Portuguese. Other travelers were stopping and watching the tv above them. It was a chaotic scene and a female reporter was pointing to a car in the distance behind her.

"What's happening?" N'Jobu asked a white man behind him who spoke English to his companion.

"I'm not sure," the man said.

The woman next to him covered her mouth with her hands.

Eyes back on the tv, Lia's picture appeared. It was a photo of her voting at the school. A clip played of her speaking outside of the community center after she won. N'Jobu walked swiftly to his flight gate and questioned the brown-skinned attendant who also had her eyes glued to the tv.

"Excuse, me. What is happening?"

The woman's eyes were wide and her lip trembled.

"That woman who was voted into office was…she was just killed—"

N'Jobu felt his gut lurch and he immediately dialed Califia's number. She wasn't picking up. Eyes bolted back to the tv, the news showed shocked faces of people wandering around in a daze. One young Black woman was shown sitting in the street wailing.

N'Jobu looked for any signs of Califia or Erik, or anyone he recognized because they were with Lia.

"Two people were killed," he heard the second gate attendant tell another traveler next to him.

Califia was still not picking up. All he knew was Erik and Califia rode with Lia and Soliel to the luncheon.

Two people dead.

Panic clutched his throat. He grabbed his carry-on bag and walked quickly toward the ground floor. His eyes were blurry and he was running by the time he made it outside of the airport.

Luck was with him and he snagged a cab right away. He gave directions to the cabbie to head for the community center. He couldn't remember the luncheon address because his mind was a rush of negative fear-bound thoughts.

The cabbie had the radio on and N'Jobu heard Lia's name mentioned.

"Do you speak English?" N'Jobu asked. His voice sounded high-pitched and frantic.

"Yes."

"Can you tell me what the radio is saying about what happened to the new Council Woman. Lia—"

"Oh, oh, she was shot and killed…"

N'Jobu's hands shot up to the top of his head. He still couldn't reach Califia and his body was shaking.

"Who shot her?"

The cabbie listened to the radio.

"What the fuck are they saying, man?!"

The cabbie was startled by his anger, his lips grew tight.

"She was leaving from somewhere and when she was in her car, someone pulled up and shot into the car…uh…she was killed…and…and they say her driver was killed too…many people seriously injured who were running away…"

He sent Califia a text, and then he tried calling Soliel. No one was picking up. He didn't have Lia's parent's number. That was in Califia's phone.

The soldier in him bucked up. He sat back in the seat. He couldn't fathom what was happening and he had no control on how to get to his family any faster. Califia could hold it down. She would protect Erik.

But who would protect her if he wasn't there?

He closed his eyes…and felt his kimoyo beads heat up on his wrist.

Chapter 19 HERE.

[mistersourwolf]

A New Beginning - Daryl Dixon x Reader

Title: A New Beginning

Word count: 2,715

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader

Warnings: Suicide, Angst, Blood mentioned, Slight cursing (nothing too serious) Daryl being a huge asshole? Please let me know if I’m missing any!!

Request: Daryl Dixon imagine

season one

Glenn finds a woman in Atlanta getting ready to jump off a building Glenn talks her down and she goes back to the quarry. And she knows how to shoot a gun and a bow.

A/N : This was a requested fic, I changed her knowing how to shoot a crossbow, but everything else is the same. Also!! Please, please do get help if you are experiencing any suicidal thoughts or depression. Your life matters and things can get better but not if you make a permanent decision. Please take care of yourself, love always, Sav xx

You overlooked the city, seeing walkers crowding the streets of Atlanta. It had been several months since the outbreak, and the world had gone to hell. The only noises made in the city were screams of agony and the constant sound of growling herds. It was unbearable. You no longer felt like fighting to survive, not if you had no one to do it with. Since your family had been taken by the dead, you felt hollow inside. Every night you went to sleep, it was hard not to pray that you’d die. And you wanted so badly to give up, for a herd to stumble along your tent and devour you. Death wasn’t a promise of happiness but it seemed to be more promising than living.

Today, you thought could be the day you work up the courage to end it yourself. You had always talked yourself out of it, but today was a beautiful day. Even more so, a beautiful day to die. You stood at the top of a building, looking down at the vacant streets. Your eyes began to tear up at the thought of being able to see your family again. You closed your eyes, not wanting to think about what you were going to do. Hesitantly, you stepped forward, but quickly turned around when you heard a voice call out behind you.

“Hey! Wait, please, just wait.”

You glanced back and saw a man who wore a ball cap start walking towards you. You glanced back down at the streets below you.

“What am I waiting for?” You choked out a laugh, as tears began to fall down your face.

The man was now beside you, which you hadn’t noticed due to you being in a daze.

“It doesn’t have to be this way, your life doesn’t have to end like this.” He assured you calmly, but you could hear in his voice that he was just as nervous as you were.

“I lost everything, everyone, I have nothing to live for.” You said wiping your tears away.

“You can still back away from this, you can choose to live for them.” He said reaching out to touch your shoulder. You shivered at the feeling of his touch, it had been so long since you had felt anyone’s hand on your skin. It had been longer since you had heard someone’s voice. “I’m Glenn.” He smiled nervously at you. You smiled back slightly, looking back at him.

“It’s getting harder to breathe, Glenn. And now I have a chance to relieve that pain and-.” Your voice cracked, “and please let me do this.” You finished, staring at the pavement.

“I don’t know you but I know that this is not your fate. It doesn’t have to be.” Glenn grasped your arm pulling you back from the edge. You tried pulling away from him, starting to break down.

“Please!” You cried, “I can’t do this anymore!” You fell onto your knees, bringing him down with you as well. “I want to be with my family, please just let me go be with them.” You sobbed.

Glenn wrapped both his arms around you to try to prevent you from getting away as you squirmed in his grasp.

“Shh.” He started to hush you, but you could only sit there sobbing and screaming.

“Just let me go! Please!” You continued to cry, punching the rooftop. Your knuckles began to bleed, but you barely noticed.

Glenn squeezed you tighter, rocking you side to side. “No I can’t let you, I can’t live with that.” His voice cracked and you could tell this was upsetting him. It was just as painful for him to watch you crumble and he didn’t even know you. You sat on the roof for a few minutes crying and distraught. It seemed like you would never stop crying, the pain was so intense.

“Shh,” Glenn whispered, “It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay.”

”I-I can’t.” You sobbed. You continued to cry until a few minutes later. Glenn tried to stand you up and this time you complied. Your mind was blank and you felt completely numb inside. He walked with you away from the edge towards the ladder on the side of the building.

“What’s your name?” Glenn asked, continuing to walk. You thought about your name and how long it had been since you had heard anyone say it.

“Y/N,” You struggled to speak, your voice was strained, most likely from the crying. He smiled, “Never met a Y/N, glad you’re the one I met.” He noted before sending you down the ladder. You climbed down as fast as you could, trying not to make any noise that might attract the dead. You had a knife on you as well as a pistol but that was it. In all honesty, you always preferred a crossbow, but you were an equally good shot with a gun. Your lips were cracked from lack of water, and they had almost began to bleed a little.

Once you were both on the ground, he reached in his backpack pulling out a bottle of water, as if he had read your mind. Your eyes softened, how could he be so kind? You didn’t know that good people still existed.

“Listen, you can come back with me, we have a group with food and water. You’ll be safe.” Glenn assured you, starting to walk down the alley. His words sounded made up, like a fairy tale. You were out here fighting for your life hoping to get your hands on any kind of food, even if it was in spite of your own personal taste.

You followed him, trying your best to not make any noise. “Will they be mad at you?” You asked Glenn, curious as to how a group who seemingly had it together would be comfortable with any stranger coming in.

“No, they won’t be.” He answered, taking a right turn out the alley. He sounded unsure which made you nervous. Glenn knew he didn’t sound sure of himself and he wasn’t.

“You’re positive?” You questioned.

“I know I’m a terrible liar so that would also be a no.” Glenn said rushing up to a car and picking the lock.

“I won’t go with you, I can’t intrude on what you guys have.” You said, quietly. Glenn got in the car, opening the passenger door.

“You will die if you stay, if the geeks don’t kill you, starvation will. Now will you just get your ass in the car.” He said, patting the seat beside him.

You hesitated for a minute but decided to get in.

Glenn fumbled with the cables that were out and soon you heard the car start to hum. You looked over at him, surprised he was able to start it.

“You’re something else.” You smiled, leaning on the window.

Glenn laughed, pulling off into the street, “Wait until you meet the group.”

The drive was quiet and as you got closer to the group, the more scenic the drive was. The quarry was gorgeous unlike the rundown city. Glenn was listening to an old cd that had been left in the car. It was a jazz album, singing about a happy world. The world you’d seen was anything except happy, but you hoped things would look up for you soon. You were nervous when you arrived and anxious to meet everyone.

“It’s gonna be okay, they won’t bite.” Glenn joked, “Seriously, come meet them, you’ll like them a lot” Glenn stepped out of the car and walked toward an RV that was parked center of the camp. You sat for a minute, fumbling with your hands. What were they going to think of you? What would you say to them? Would Glenn tell them how he found you? He said he was a terrible liar but you still hoped he could cover your ass. You weren’t ashamed but didn’t want to be thought of as weak. Deep down, you knew you weren’t, you were strong but even strong people lose fights sometimes.

After a long mental prep, you stepped out of the car and slowly walked towards the group. Glenn was talking to them, which you assumed had something to do with you.

A lady approached you quickly. She had short gray hair and kind eyes. Immediately she welcomed you with a smile and a warm hug. You hugged her back as well and probably longer than you should have. Your eyes started to tear up just at the thought of being able to hug someone again. You soon pulled away, laughing and wiping your eyes.

“Sorry,” you said through tears. “It’s been too long since I’ve had a good hug.” You smiled.

“Well you can always get plenty from me.” She smiled big at you, “I’m Carol.”

“Y/N, it’s really nice to meet you Carol.” You smiled back at her, wiping whatever tears you had remaining.

“Come meet the rest of group.” She smiled leading you to where Glenn and a few more people stood.

“That’s Andrea & Amy, they’re sisters and are practically joined at the hips.” She said pointing towards two blonde women, one looked fairly young and it was easy to tell who was older. You smiled at them, waving hello.

“That’s Dale, he’s a wise man, incredible for any advice.” She introduced the man, who was far older than anyone else it appeared.

“That’s Rick & Lori, he is new to the group, just found his family again.” She pointed out, “My daughter Sophie and Rick and Lori’s son, Carl.”

She continued to list the names of all the group members. Each person greeted you with a smile, and you felt very welcome.

“There is one more, his name is Daryl, he’s hunting right now but should be back sometime before dinner.” She said before walking off.

Daryl returned before dinner just as Carol had said. He had seven squirrels along with a bird or two along his back. He carried a crossbow, a weapon you always wanted to learn how to use. Daryl was older as well but not by much, he was actually kind of handsome. You couldn’t help but first notice his muscles, he looked very strong but you saw that he had an off putting personality. Daryl seemed disconnected and anti-social. In a way, you felt very much like him. You took advantage of this and sat next to him by the fire. Everyone else was eating and talking about their previous lives, telling funny stories and how their life used to be. But you sat quiet next to him, eager to break the silence.

“Would you teach me?” You asked shyly, looking down at your food.

He lifted his head up, looking over at you, “Teach ya’ what?” He said. He had a gruff voice, one that certainly suited him.

You blushed slightly, “How to shoot it.” You gestured toward the crossbow laying next to him. He looked down at his crossbow and then back at you.

“Why ya’ wanna learn, you got a gun.” He said roughly, throwing down what he was eating. He looked away from you, and towards the group.

“My dad, he used to—“

“But he ain’t here no more,” Daryl interrupted, an angry expression taking over his face, “Ain’t no sense in learning if that’s what it’s about.” He stormed off, leaving you in shock. You were surprised how he could treat someone he didn’t know like that. As much as you wanted to sit and sulk, something drove you to chase after him.

“Hey!” You shouted, but he continued to walk. You quickly caught up to him, touching his arm. He pulled back, turning around to face you.

“Why you following me,” He asked angrily, “I don’t want nothin’ to do with you or your bullshit story.” He turned back around continuing to walk.

“You know you’re just like him!” You said, trying to provoke him and you did exactly that. He turned back around, walking up to you until he was standing inches away from your face, “Sweetheart, I ain’t nothin’ like him, because I’m here and he’s not.”

Your eyes started to water but you didn’t want to show him any kind of weakness, so you fought them back.

“If you’re trying to tell me just because you’re alive doesn’t mean your weak then you’re wrong.“ You scolded him, “You’re in just as much in pain as everyone else, probably worse.”

Daryl didn’t like that and he showed that quickly, he grabbed you by your arm dragging you to the woods.

“Let go of me!” You yelled, trying to pull away from him.

“Nah you wanna shoot, let’s shoot.” He was definitely mad by the tone of his voice.

“Daryl, stop!” You complained as he grabbed your hands, helping you hold the cross bow. Daryl started to whistle, taking two metal scraps from the ground banging them together.

Soon followed a series of growling, but it was hard to see anything. Your eyes slowly adjusted as you saw a walker come from behind a tree. It slowly walked over to you, it’s mouth had been completely eaten and decayed.

“Shoot em’! You wanna learn, right?” Daryl said, continuing to bang the pieces. You quickly shot at the walker, but you missed, it kept walking towards you. You tried shooting at it again but failed once more before it tackled you. It’s jaws kept moving forward trying desperately to bite you, but you fought back. You cried out as the walker continued to wrestle you. This went on for a minute or two as you fumbled with your jeans trying to find your knife. Suddenly you heard a squishing sound and blood splattered on your forehead. You closed your eyes in disgust.

Daryl pulled the walker off of you, extending his hand. You rejected and quickly stood up, glaring at him.

“What the hell?” You yelled pushing him back. He pushed past you, picking up the arrows from the ground.

“You’re welcome.” He said breathless, picking up his crossbow as well.

“I never asked you to save me,” you remarked, out of breath from the fight.

“So I shoulda let em’ kill ya?” He asked, pissed off for whatever reason.

“I can take care of myself!” You argued.

“You really had a handle on that,” he huffed, his sarcasm pissing you off even more. “You wanted this, remember?”

“I almost got killed!” You refuted, angry at him for the danger he put you in.

“What, you don’t wanna die?” He yelled, making you finally cave in. You put your face in your palms trying to hide your eyes. You started to cry lifting your head towards the sky. You stared at the stars trying to hold back any more tears, but you failed.

He took a small step towards you, his body became less stiff. He stared at the ground before looking back up at you.

“I-I ain’t mean to—“ he started but you cut him off.

“No,” You sniffled, “You’re right, I do.”

A moment of silence followed. You covered your mouth as you let out a final sob, not wanting anyone to hear.

“How’d it happen?” Daryl looked up, his eyes had softened a little, seeming genuine.

“What, my dad?”

He nodded slowly.

“He died before all of this, was diagnosed with cancer when I was thirteen. Lost him not even a year after. But I’m glad he didn’t have to see this, you know?” You looked at Daryl, trying to read his thoughts.

“He liked the crossbow?” He said, looking at his own. You smiled, nodding.

“He loved the crossbow, he would always practice in his free time and sometimes let me try, even though mom would kill him if she found out.” You laughed thinking about those times and how simple they were. “He started using it more when he got sick, was tired of laying around I guess.”

“Okay.” He said quietly. “I’ll teach ya.” He slowly walked away, leaving you to your thoughts. You were incredibly sad but felt a shimmer of excitement. If there was anyway to honor your family, it would be staying alive, and that’s exactly what you were gonna do.

[felinehypocritical]

mama’s boy

Summary: The sadness subsided and the bitterness set in, a low anger at Richie for making that comment in front of everything. He bit back his hot, angry tears, blinking them away quickly until the bile in his throat subsided. Stanley Uris didn’t cry anymore. He’d wasted enough time 

(being a useless spoiled fucking mama’s boy you’re nothing but a spoiled rotten brat stan you’ve got no spine no talents your parents are tricking you they’re lying you’re just a dumbass no-talent rich kid)

crying about stupid shit for no reason. Like the buh-buh-buh-buh-birds and other variants of Richie’s quips, like skinned knees and missing television for saturday morning services. Maybe he wasn’t so normal as everyone thought, but he had to be. Rich Jews didn’t have any talents. They just got rich and stayed rich, didn’t ever have to work, and even if he wanted to work he never would. He’d just survive on daddy’s money like everyone said, never have to work. The thought sent a chill down Stan’s spine.

There was a soft knock at the door over the volumes of Stan’s thoughts.

Words: 2836

available on ao3

“Shut up, you fucking mama’s boy.”

The words came quick and light, as laughing as Richie’s usually were, but they stung Stan like wasps.

“Mama’s boy.”

Stan kept his tongue, letting the words roll off of his back and going home quietly. Keeping it to himself.

Mama’s boy. He could remember the disdain Richie has used, the barely concealed jealousy and anger in his voice. How aggressive he’d seemed.

Stan felt a shiver go up his spine, but he simply hitched his backpack up farther and kept walking.

He knew why, of course. He’d seen everything the was to be seen of Richie Tozier. They were best friends after all. He saw ever crack in his humor and all the things Richie wanted to be able to find funny but couldn’t. He could see how each word landed on him, how every sentence someone hurles chipped away at Richie. Unfortunately, the chipping finally gave way just as Stan spoke up.

And of course someone had to bring up family.

Stan didn’t remember how, or when. He just remembered they had, and he’d seem Richie’s face harden in the way it always did. Richie’d replied with his usual slew of curse words and lewd jokes, probably about Eddie’s mom or something, and Stan, tuning in just for a second, decided to make an entrance.

“Damn, Richie, you kiss your mother with that mouth? Or at all?”

Richie’s lip had curled, almost imperceptibly.  “Shut up, you fucking mama’s boy.”

Maggie Tozier was, admittedly, not something to tease about. She was a chainsmoker, she never went to bed sober,she was basically a serial cheater… and most importantly, Stan doubted she knew Richie was alive. Stan had talked to Maggie maybe twice, three times that he could remember, and all of them were in passing. Asking him to take money to buy her cigarettes, once or twice, asking for his mother’s name, but that was it. And Richie despised everything about it.

Richie was a high maintenance young man. He wanted attention, he wanted love. He wanted recognition. And his parents gave none. The fed him, clothed him, gave him running water, and that was about the end of the line. Richie had tried so, so hard to get them to pay attention, swearing up and down, getting all A’s repeatedly, breaking limbs and spraining things and making his eyes worse on purpose so they’d be forced to get him glasses. Needless to say, nothing worked.

Richie’d once joked he was lucky to have a middle or last name, since he figured they’d have forgotten about him by the time they got through the first one. And he didn’t have friends over, not ever, since he was humiliated. Stan was the only one allowed in his house who wasn’t in the family, and that was to pick up funnybooks and candy. No sleepovers. No playdates at Richie’s house.

Stan could hear the words in his head, the pure desperate envy.

“Shut up, you fucking mama’s boy.”

The words echoed in his head till he got home, where as usual, his mother was in their kitchen- the Uris house had an open floor plan, you could see the kitchen from the door- waiting for her Stanley to be back so she could make sure he was doing okay.

“Hey, Stanley,” Andrea said happily, drawing the short boy in close to kiss him on the crown of the head. Stan let her, albeit numbly, but hardly felt it. “How goes it?”

Stan nodded into her chest. “Good, mom, I’m good. Just… I’m a little tired, okay?”

“Sure!’ She let him out of her hug, holding him at arm's length and looking at him closely. “Tired as in sleepytired, or tired as in now you’re a rebellious teen who hates his muter?”

Stan snorted involuntarily at the word and the old yiddish name, shaking his head. He was ready to reply no, of course not, can we talk?, but the idea of talking to his mom about a problem with another mom seemed like a bad idea. As well as only further illustrating Richie’s point. Which Stan never allowed to happen.

“Sleepy. It was a long day today, mom.”

Andrea put her hands on her slim hips. “I’ll say, you’re finally home and it’s an hour ‘till curfew, Stanley Uris!”

Stan, ever the unaffected boy he was, rolled his eyes affectionately. “I’m sorry! Listen, I’ll come down later, I promise. But for now I’m going to my room, okay?”

“Okay.” Andrea watched her son take the stairs up to his room, calling after him, “Love you, cucciolo!”

Stan’s grip on the rail tightened, both at the pet name- little puppy in Italian, his mother’s first language- and the sentiment. But he still couldn’t stop himself from returning it; that would be almost sacrilegious. “Love you too, momma.”

He ran to his room, shutting the door and curling up on the bed. The only noise was his own breathing and the same old cogs whirring in his head.

Stan knew he was lucky. He had a father and a mother, first of all, both parents in the picture. He was wealthy was all get-out, with a big two story house in all the latest styles in the nicest neighborhood around that was full of stuff from his parent’s travels and pictures of family, mostly Stan. Stan had all the clothes he could want, every model of binocular he asked for (though he didn’t ask for much), a big room, full of cool trinkets and a bed that people

(richie did it most)

always loved to lay and sit on. He had anything he could ever want, and compared to his friends, Stan was in the lap of luxury.

But most importantly, Stan’s parents loved him.

They really did- they loved their little boy. They’d do anything for him, they thought he was absolutely amazing, they went out of their way for things he liked… they loved him. They were involved with him. Andrea Bertoli, an immigrant from Italy, and Donald Uris, who was from Russia, were both deeply invested in what they believed their little boy could be- the perfect example of the Jewish-American Dream. Smart, handsome, successful, kind, prepared… He had everything. His compulsions were a tad strange, sure, with his need to clean the bathroom constantly and his impeccable room, but they could be ignored. The Bertoli-Uris residence was one of love and warmth, both because of their great heating system and because of their cozy family unit.

Stan appreciated that. He loved his parents, too.

But it hurt him like fuck that all of his friends but Mike and Ben were hurt by it.

The noticing had started out small, Stan showing up late because he talked to his dad for too long and Beverly saying wistfully, “gee, Stanny, that sounds wonderful.” Stan complaining about his mother’s endless lectures on how “great he would grow up to be” and Richie making fun of her with his Granny Grunt voice. Stan explaining how he sometimes had to go to work with his father because Donald got lonely at the synagogue and wanted to show Stanley how his job worked and Bill casting him a fervent glance at the idea, the thought of a father wanting a son involved with him. Talking about the free will Andrea gave him and catching the look Eddie gave him.

Stan never meant to brag; he wasn’t that kind of boy. And he of course got in trouble for being impulsive, like when he used a plate as a frisbee, or brought a street dog home and fed it the gefilte fish. It’s just that everyone, even he, knew that his family was so perfect it almost hurt.

The guilt finally ate away at the last of his will and Stan made a noise of discomfort, rolling over and feeling the sadness pooling in his stomach. He hated that he made his friends feel bad. He hated knowing that his existence counteracted his best friend’s. He felt guilty for having such a nice family. A nice house. A nice life. And he knew it wasn’t fair, that letting himself feel bad was stupid. But he still did, privately, feel bad, and now was a time to feel bad.

The sadness subsided and the bitterness set in, a low anger at Richie for making that comment in front of everything. Calling him out for… what? Loving his mother? His mother loving him? What was wrong with that? Stan didn’t quite know- he only knew it was wrong. He bit back his hot, angry tears, blinking them away quickly until the bile in his throat subsided. Stanley Uris didn’t cry anymore. He’d wasted enough time

(being a useless spoiled fucking mama’s boy you’re nothing but a spoiled rotten brat stan you’ve got no spine no talents your parents are tricking you they’re lying you’re just a dumbass no-talent rich kid)

crying about stupid shit for no reason. Like the buh-buh-buh-buh-birds and other variants of Richie’s quips, like skinned knees and missing television for saturday morning services. Maybe he wasn’t so normal as everyone thought, but he had to be. Rich Jews didn’t have any talents. They just got rich and stayed rich, didn’t ever have to work, and even if he wanted to work he never would. He’d just survive on daddy’s money like everyone said, never have to work. The thought sent a chill down Stan’s spine.

There was a soft knock at the door over the volumes of Stan’s thoughts.

“Sweetie, Richie is on the phone for you. Do you want to take it or are you still tired?”

Stan rolled over again, looking at his mom through his fallen bangs. “I… I’ll take it, I guess.”

Stan padded downstairs, taking the phone as his mom left to give him privacy and coughing. Before Stan even had time, as usual, Richie spoke.

“Oh, good, you’re finally here! Listen, I’ve got some comics to trade if ya want. Want me to come over?”

“You won’t make it before curfew,” Stan said lackadaisically in his someone-has-to-be-sensible-here tone. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“Hell yeah I can make it!” Richie’s voice came through, just the tiniest bit tinny. “I can just hop on my bike and go, whaddya say?”

The boy sighed. “Rich, I dunno, I’m kinda wiped out right now.”

Richie was quiet for a moment, before saying simply, “sure,” and hanging up without another word. Stan put the phone down too, before going back to his room nearly silently and flopping back on his bed. Great. He fucked over Richie and himself, what was next?

He stayed like that a little longer, wanting to cry but not being able to, before he heard a knock at the door. He figured it was a package or something, and stayed still. It wasn’t until he heard a bright, happy voice that his stomach dropped lower. Richie had still come, because of course he did.

Richie came tromping up the stairs, papers rustling as his comics came up with him. Stan nearly groaned. He sat up slowly, letting Richie bust in and immediately go to Stan’s comic shelf. He barely looked at Stan as he grabbed them, tossing the comics towards his best friend and beginning his monologue.

“Okay, so I have a bunch of new Archies and a few Supermans but I know you like Marvel, so I also brought some of my special editions to see if you’d have anything half good in your dogshit collection, yeah? And-” Richie stopped when he saw Stan’s detached expression. He sighed, putting down his comics gingerly on the floor and clasping his hands together. “Okay. What’s up with you?” His voice was perfectly serious, something not even Stan really heard much.

“Huh?”

“What’s eatin’ ya? What’s hangin’? What’s going on in that ol’ noggin?” Richie listed off the phrases, and looked ready to list more, but Stan cut him off.

“No, I- I’m, cool. It’s nothing.” Stan chewed his lips as he looked at Richie warily, somehow still worried he was going to make a joke at Stan’s expense despite the fact no one was there to hear.

Richie sighed theatrically. “Oh, Stanley. You don’t even try to lie. What a little drama queen you are.” He made as if to pinch Stan’s cheeks, and almost did it, but Stan halfheartedly knocked his hands away and kept his eyes down. “Okay, Stan, seriously.”

Stan groaned long and loud, something Richie knew he did when he was irritated but almost ready to talk. The noise continued for a full forty five seconds before he started.

“God, it’s just- you all make me feel like such a stupid rich kid, you know? Like, you all work for your allowances and have to deal with shitty parents- the Losers do, I mean- but I just… don’t. I have like, one chore, to clean the cat’s litter box, and my parents aren’t complete shit, and I just… you all remind me of how lucky I am, and that makes me feel like absolute trash, that I’m just the boy who has everything to you guys. I mean, do you ever want to have to think about how much richer you are than your friends? No. I hate you guys have disadvantages where I don’t. And I hate I can’t really help. My whole life is so easy that it gets boring and just- no one cares, why even bother, you know? I’m not interesting. I’m not funny, like you, or strong, like Bill, or cool, like Bev or Mike. I just like birds. I’m just a Jew. I just don’t- I dunno. Whatever. You don't care, Richie, you think I’m just a fucking mama’s boy. You just think I don’t know how the world works. Maybe I don’t, I don’t know.”

Richie managed to keep silent, covering his mouth with his palm as he stared, fascinated, at his fidgeting friend. He let Stan’s ramble run it’s course, until the last line. “That’s not fair, Stanny,” Richie said quietly. “It’s not fair you get to tell me how I feel, it’s not fair we make you feel bad, it’s not fair Bill and Bev and Eds and I all have, like, shitty parents, and yeah, it’s not fair you got everything. You beginning to see a pattern? Life’s not fair, Stan.” Stan rolled his eyes. “I know it’s cliche, I hate how I sound like I’m from a movie, but it’s true. We all ‘re losers for a reason. Your reason’s just as good as ours. You don’t get shit less than us, you get more, just for being friends with a fag, on toppa being a Jew. Remember that time you came to the Barrens limping with a shiner because Henry didn’t like that he saw you in a, uh, a kippah the last Saturday, so he beat the shit out of you? Or that time he kept taunting you ‘bout being friends with me until I showed up and he could do it to my face?” There was silence. “Do ya?” Stan nodded. “See? You got stuff wrong, I see it whenever your dad talks to you. He loves you too much, Stanny. So many people love you way too much.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean that all of the Club just loves each other so much, Stan, that it begins to just not show up on our, uh, what’s the word…” He snapped his fingers. “Radar. Like, we don’t know that other people love us even though we do know, you know?”

“You don’t love me,” Stan accused. “You think I’m a spoiled brat.”

“That’s ‘cause you are a spoiled brat, Stan.” Richie giggled when Stan hit his shoulder. “What? It’s true, you know. You’re a rich kid, through and through. But that’s part of your charm. Cute spoiled rich kid, but you put up with me, so it’s okay.” This time Richie did pinch Stan’s cheeks, stretching them so that Stan looked like how you look in a carnival mirror. Stan let it happen, rolling his eyes and blinking, hard.

Richie cooed and teased, letting go of Stan’s cheeks and smiling indulgently at Stan. “Aw, is little Stanny crying?”

“No,” Stan choked out, and he wasn’t. He stopped as quick as he started, and sat up straight. “Thanks, Richie, you big asshole.”

Richie smiled at his friend. “Of course, favorite-friend. Say, if I was nice enough, would you give me five dollars?” Stan pushed him onto his side. “What, two?” Stan flicked him. “One?” Richie felt a sharp pinch on his wrist. “Ow! Jesus, okay! I won’t joke anymore, promise.”

“I don’t believe that,” Stan said testily.

Richie grinned, scooting closer to Stan so that they could share the comics. “Yeah. Me neither, Stanny-Rich. Now, have you read the new Spiderman comic?”

And Stan, the boy who had done and owned everything, hadn’t.

[lia-jones]

Growing Together - Chapter Fourteen - Learning to Fly

6:00 AM

When I wake up in the morning, love

And the sunlight hurts my eyes

And something without warning, love

Bears heavy on my mind

Then I look at you

And the world's alright with me

Just one look at you

And I know it's gonna be

A lovely day-

My hand flew blindly to my phone, shutting up Bill Withers for good. Victor stirred beside me.

“Why do you have your alarm set for so early?” He asked sleepily as he pulled me closer.

“It’s time to get up.” I kissed his closed eyelids. “Chop-chop, Mr. Lee!”

Victor turned to grab his phone.

“It’s six AM.” He squinted at his screen.

“Exactly. Time for your morning run.” I beamed at him, uncharacteristically full of energy. “I’ll get things ready, you don’t need to worry.”

“I’m not running today.” He grabbed my waist, trapping me in bed. “Sleep a little longer, we’ll get ready together.”

“No, I woke up early so you could run, and you are going to run.” I squirmed in his arms. “It’s something you like and it’s good for you, you shouldn’t give up on that just because you are a father now. Besides…” I pinched his stomach. “I don’t want a chubby hubby.”

“Ouch, quit it!” He grabbed both my wrists, trying to keep me still. “I’m not chubby!”

“You will be if you don’t run!” I started pushing him out of bed with my body. “Come on, Victor, it’s sunny outside, we’re both up, there is no excuse for you not to go-”

I heard my husband suddenly leave the bed with a thump. I looked over the edge of the bed, finding him lying on the floor, an annoyed expression on his face.

“Happy now?”

7:30 AM

“We’re ready for breakfast!” I announced as I entered the kitchen with a fully dressed Owen, who was giggling with my shenanigans. “What’s for the menu, chef?”

“French toast for the beautiful lady and the short gentleman.” Victor played along, ceremoniously presenting a large plate with golden steamy french toast. “Let me get the syrup and the sliced fruit.”

“What are you having?” I grabbed the plate from his hands.

“Egg whites and fruit.” He got his plate of egg whites and sat on the table to eat. “My wife says I’m gaining weight.”

“I was joking! Have some french toast with us.” I motioned to serve him some.

“Absolutely not!” He frowned, covering his plate. “My wife is unsatisfied, I need to please her.”

“Fine, have it your way then.” I started eating, feeling somewhat guilty about my joke.

“How is your breakfast, Owen?” Victor asked. “Do you want more strawberries? Or syrup?”

“No, Sir.” Owen blushed. “It’s good. Thank you, Sir.”

“You don’t have to call me Sir, Owen.” Victor spoke gently. “Just Victor. Or Vic, like Andy does.”

“I’m sorry, Sir.” Owen looked down, uncomfortable. “I mean, I’m sorry, Victor.”

Victor pursed his lips, letting out a heavy sigh. I held his hand under the table. It was clearly still hard for Owen to be comfortable with him.

8:30 AM

“Do you have everything you need?” I asked Owen as we stood by the school door. “Your lunch? Your sculpture?”

“Yes, I do.” Owen beamed at me, his red curls bouncing as he looked up. “I put my playdoh ant in the plastic box you gave me, so it won’t break.”

“Well done.” I brushed his curls slightly. “Have a good day at school. Don’t forget to eat your snack.”

“I will!” He wrapped his arms around my waist. “Have a good day at work, Andy!” He turned to leave.

I noticed Victor fidget slightly by my side.

“Hey, what about Victor?” I teased. “Doesn’t he deserve a good day at work too?”

“Yes.” Owen slowly came back, extending his small hand for Victor to shake. “Have a good day.” He looked down. The look on Victor’s face at that moment broke my heart.

“You too, Owen.” Victor hesitated for a moment, wondering if he could hug his son. He touched his shoulder instead. “I’m sure your teacher will love your ant sculpture.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

The car ride to work was a silent one, as I watched my husband lost in thought, his jaw clenching occasionally.

“Vic-”

“I don’t know how to get through to him.” Victor blurted out. “It’s been a month, and he still doesn't like me. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Hey, you know what Miss Dillon said.” I caressed his shoulder. “It’s normal for adopted kids to be suspicious, especially if they had a negative experience before. Give him time, he will see the wonderful man you are, I’m sure.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He sighed. “I just need to be patient.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

“No, I will do this.” He shook his head. “I am his father, it’s my job to build a connection. I will find a way.”

10:40 AM

“Ok, guys, what else do we have today?” I asked my management team.

“I got the new report from Parker Company today.” Diane handed me a file. “I still have to check those numbers, but the profit is way below expected.”

I opened the file, reading it carefully. I couldn’t believe my eyes.

“No, this is significantly below the stipulated in the contract. They are going to lose the investment.” I flipped through the pages of the report. “They invested in new machinery last month, they have clients, they should have made a lot more than what’s in here!”

“I’ll call them today, inquiring about these values.” Diane offered.

“No.” I got up from my chair, closing my laptop. “I’ll call Mr. Stone right away. They need to file a correct report in two days, LFG will reevaluate the contract by then. Last month was already terrible for them. I need to set this straight.” I walked to the door, addressing my team again. “You guys take a break. We’ll talk later. Kenny, bring me some coffee to my office. I need all the caffeine I can have.”

The call to Parker Company took longer than expected. Mr Stone was away on business and would only return the following day, so he left his wife taking care of the company affairs. She knew very little about the investment, let alone the software we were using to report the results. His assistant was even worse, taking forever to get me simple pieces of information. Twenty minutes later, and after a lot of time on hold, my patience was wearing thin. Something wasn’t right. I hoped it wasn’t what I thought it was.

I heard a knock. It was Kenny, my assistant.

“Mr. Lee just called to see if you were ready for the Cooper meeting.” He announced, nervously.

“Crap!” I jumped in my chair. “Tell him I need five minutes more, just finishing a call.”

With this new ordeal, I had totally forgotten about the meeting with Cooper and Sons at LFG. Yet again, despite whatever progress Goldman had made before, the negotiations were at an impasse. Jason Cooper was a very traditional man, and saw these new fancy robotic companies, as he called them, as the enemy. So naturally, when Victor told him what he had to do to secure the investment, Cooper backed away. The CEO then asked me if I could present the investment project myself, to see if I could get through the old man.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Lee, I can’t find the file you asked for…” Stone’s assistant came on the phone again.

“It’s alright, I’ll call later.” I hung up, checking the notification on my phone. A text from my dear husband saying You’re 10 minutes late .

I bolted to the elevator. Ten minutes was enough to have one of those grumpy men fuming and leaving the room. If I wanted to even have a chance of discussing the investment, I’d have to be quick.

The elevator opened with a ding. Goldman was already waiting for me.

“You are-”

“Late!” I interrupted as I ran to the conference room door, Goldman following me. “I know, I know. Plug this into the screen, will you?” I handed him my laptop as I knocked briefly, opening the door. My husband threw me a deadly stare.

“Mr. Cooper!” I extended my hand for him to shake. “I’m sorry for the delay, I was caught up in a meeting. I’m Andrea Lee, pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise. Jason Cooper, ma’am.” He shook my hand with a smile. “Let’s hear what you have to say, your husband says you’ll explain things better. Although I have to say I’m not senile, I understood it correctly the first time.” He gave Victor a sour look.

I turned on my laptop and began a more interactive presentation, allowing Mr. Cooper to pose questions as I spoke, keeping an open and amicable attitude. It seemed to work, as the old man lost the frown on his face, and started speaking more openly as well, even daring to ask how someone like Victor had nailed a sweet girl like me. Victor kept his poker face the entire time, only a wife’s trained eye like mine could see he was outraged.

“You know, my sons are the ones insisting on this, telling me this is an opportunity for growth. But I built this company with my own two hands, and the final say is mine. This is a family company, some people have been working with us for decades. I will say yes if you come and visit us, feel the spirit, see if your indications are really appropriate for us.”

“Andrea is a very busy woman, she-” Victor chimed in.

“I would love to.” I interrupted Victor. “I will check my schedule and make room to visit you this week.”

Pleased, Mr. Cooper shook my hand.

“Then it looks like we may have a deal. Bring the contract with you. I will sign it on the day of your visit.”

12:30 PM

“Mr. Lee asked for you to go to his office.” Kenny announced, panicked.

I was up to my neck in files. Not only did I have to study strategies for the incoming companies, I also had the Parker ordeal to figure out.

“Did he tell you what he wanted?” I asked, my eyes still glued to the file in front of me.

“No, I didn’t dare ask him.” He confessed. “Could you just call him? If you don't, he’ll call again and get angry at me.”

“Why are you so scared of him? He’s not that bad.” I took my phone, noticing I had several missed calls from Victor. “Damn it, I forgot to unmute it.”

“I know he is your husband, but he is scary.” Kenny gasped, suddenly realizing how honest he had been. “I’m sorry, this was out of line, please don’t tell him I said that.”

“It’s ok, Kenny, relax.” I chuckled as I pressed call on my phone. “Go have lunch.”

Victor answered on the first ring.

“I have lunch for you. Come up.”

“It’s ok, I’ll have something later, I’m really busy.” I took another file, opening it. “Thanks anyway.”

“You’ll forget to eat, I know. Fifteen minutes, that’s all I ask. Then you’ll resume work with fresher eyes.”

1:00 PM

“You need to go easy on Kenny. I think you scare him.” I mentioned, poking a piece of steak with my fork.

“I merely told him to do his job. What’s so scary about that?” Victor didn’t even look up from his salad.

“Maybe try not to sound so… Imperative.” I pointed the piece of steak towards my husband’s mouth. “Do you want to try it?”

“I can’t.” He moved away from my fork. “I’m on a diet.”

“Still with that?” I gave him an annoyed look. “I was only joking! You look fine!”

“If it was me telling you to lose some weight, even jokingly, how would you react?” He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands on his lap.

Damn. He got me there.

“I would have your head.” I admitted. “I’m sorry.”

“Since your head is still very much intact, can we agree that I am nicer than you?” He smiled mischievously.

“No, we can’t.” I closed the box containing my food and put it aside. “Because, despite my poor choice of words, all I wanted was for my husband to resume an old habit he enjoys. My intentions were good.”

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions.” He teased, setting his salad box aside as well.

“I said I’m sorry already. I didn’t mean it, you are still very attractive to me.” I got up from my chair, sitting on his lap. His arms immediately circled around me.

“Is that so?” His tone lowered, reading my expression.

“You know, sometimes it’s difficult for me to focus on meetings, looking at you in this impeccable suit, knowing exactly what’s underneath it.” My hands roamed his chest and abs through his shirt. He took a sharp breath, his grey eyes darkening. “Makes me want to do things.”

“And what things would you like to do?” He pulled me closer, his nose touching my neck as he breathed in my perfume.

“Right now?” I used my bedroom voice.

“Mhm.” His lips were already on my skin, making me shiver in delight.

“Nothing. I only have 15 minutes for lunch and I already spared thirty.” I suddenly got up from his lap, leaving him disoriented for a moment. “Thanks for lunch, handsome.” I pecked a very confused Victor on the lips.

“You are evil.” He smiled, even more enticed. “I’ll make you pay for that later.”

“Stop being petty with the diet thing and I’ll pay you double.” I winked as I left.

6:40 PM

“So there’s no explanation for the low profit?” I skimmed through the files again.

“Not one that I can find.” Diane sat across from me, looking tired. “And Stone is only returning tomorrow, his assistant-”

“Is useless, I know.” I threw the files on the table. “That’s it, I’m going over tomorrow to check it out myself. Kenny, book a flight to Creekwood for first thing in the morning.”

“What do you think is happening?” Diane questioned. “Embezzlement?”

“Or some debt they didn’t report and are trying to pay off with LFG money.” I sighed. “I don’t know. I’ll find out tomorrow.”

Someone knocked on the conference room door.

“Sorry to interrupt, Andrea. Mr. Lee is outside, waiting for you.”

“Go home, I’ll stay behind and try to make sense of this for a little longer.” I got up from my chair. “I just need to tell my husband I’ll be home late. See you tomorrow.”

8:20 PM

No matter how many times I looked at those files, I couldn’t find the mistake. In the meantime, Mr. Stone had returned my many calls, and I informed him I would be at his company first thing in the morning. Despite his confusion, he agreed. Giving up on the problem momentarily, I took an Uber home.

I found Victor in the kitchen cooking  as Owen set the table.

“Andy!” Owen came to hug me, looking relieved to see me.

“Hello, my little bug, how was your day?” I hugged him back. “Did your teacher like your sculpture?”

“She loved it! She said it was the best presentation she’s ever seen! I even got a smiley face!” Owen answered enthusiastically. “I’ll show you, it’s in my room! I’ll go get it!”

I chuckled, seeing him so excited. Victor left the pots and plates and came to me, hugging me from behind.

“Don’t I get a kiss?” He whispered in my ear.

“I’m sorry.” I turned to him. “Yes, you get a kiss.” Our lips touched for a moment. “How was it with Owen?”

“He spent the rest of the afternoon in his room, playing.” Victor frowned. “I got him to come out to set the table.”

“Give it time, you’ll grow on him.” I caressed his chest over the black apron he was wearing. “You grew on me.”

“It took me months to grow on you.” Victor returned to plating the food. “So, did you find what’s happening with the Parker Company?”

“Yes, about that.” I grimaced, knowing Victor wouldn’t like what I had to say one bit. “I need to fly to Creekwood tomorrow, first thing in the morning. I need to figure out what’s happening exactly. And I’ll take the chance and drive to Ferriston the very next day, to visit the Cooper’s.”

“You’re travelling to Creekwood?” He tensed. “We need you here, send someone else.”

“The only person I trust to do the job is Diane, and I can’t ask that of her. She has a newborn.” I filled the glasses on the table with water. “I have to go myself.”

“You just adopted a child.” Victor retorted. “They need you at the company. Besides, I don’t like you travelling by yourself, there has to be a better way.”

“It’s only for two days, I’ll be back the day after tomorrow in time for dinner.” I looked my husband in the eyes, only to find concern in them.

“At least get that teenager assistant of yours to go with you. You shouldn’t travel alone.”

“He’s twenty-five.” I shot him a flat face.

“Yet he gets all flustered whenever I call him.” He shook his head. “No, Andrea, find another way. I don't want you to go.”

“I don’t remember asking you.” Victor’s disapproval was starting to annoy me. He flew on business every time. Why couldn’t I do the same? “It’s my job, it’s what needs to be done.”

“You’ll still go, knowing that I don’t want you to?” Victor’s disbelief couldn’t conceal the hurt in his eyes.

“I wish you were on board with this, but yes.” I said in a firm voice. “When you hired me as your CEO, it wasn’t for me to act like it only when it’s convenient to you. This is my job, my responsibility, and I think it’s the right thing to do. I’m going.”

10 PM

“You’re leaving tomorrow?” Owen shyly asked as I put his clothes for the next day on the dresser.

“Yes, and coming back the day after tomorrow before dinner.” I explained, refolding a sweater, and placing it in the drawer. “Victor will be with you.”

“For two whole days?” He seemed to panic, clearly displeased with this new turn of events.

“Come on, Bug.” I sat on his bed, ruffling his curls as he sat beside me. “Victor is not that bad. He’s a good guy.”

“I don’t know.” Owen looked down. “He looks angry all the time. He was angry at you at dinner, I could tell.”

“That’s grownup stuff you don’t need to worry about. Trust me, he will get over it soon. He’s very nice, really. Now, time to go to sleep.”

Owen climbed into bed, careful not to untuck his comforter.

“Do you want a bedtime story?” I asked.

“I can read one myself.” He made a face at me, his cute dimples showing.

“This story is not in any books we own.” I spoke theatrically. “Two years ago, I met this girl, she was roughly your age, her name was Molly. She was the one that told me this very special story about an ogre.”

“An ogre?” Owen was suddenly interested. “How big was he?”

“He was huge!” I played along, happy that I caught his interest. “He was so big he couldn’t walk straight, he always had to mind the houses and the trees beneath him, or else he would crush them all with a single step. And he had this deep voice that sounded through the entire valley and scared the animals, making birds fly off in a frenzy and bunnies return to their holes. The villagers were also terrified of him, and they would scurry into their homes as they felt the earth shake with the ogre’s footsteps. Sometimes the ogre would go to the village’s school and scare the children.”

“He liked to eat children?” The little boy’s eyes went wide.

“He never ate any of them, but they were really afraid of him!” I opened my eyes wide for dramatic effect. “Until one day, when the ogre showed up at the school’s playground. His deep voice scared every child there, except for one. A four-year-old red-haired boy, named Owen.”

“What did he do?” Owen gasped.

“Well, all the children went back inside crying, but Owen stood strong. He said, ‘An ogre will not bully me! I will show him I am not afraid, and then he will see that it’s useless to scare us with his heavy footsteps and deep voice!’ The boy stood in the playground, facing the ogre with incredible bravery. Then something amazing happened.”

“What happened?” Owen jumped in his bed, completely engrossed in my story. “Did he fight the ogre with his sword?”

“No, he didn't need to.” I shrugged. “The ogre kneeled before the boy, and puddles of water appeared by the boy’s feet. The ogre was crying.”

“He was sad?” Owen’s face fell, sadness taking over.

“Well, although the ogre was scary, he wasn’t mean at all.” I spoke in a sad voice as well. “Every time he would leave his gigantic cave, it was hoping to make a new friend. But he could never do it, because everyone would run away from him. The boy understood the gigantic creature and offered to be his friend. They played together, and the ogre taught him the secrets of the world, how to tame dragons and how the world looked beautiful and small from above. They remained friends, and when the boy grew up to be a man, the ogre followed him in many adventures, defeating evil creatures, and finding hidden treasures.”

Owen stared at me with wide eyes, the story sinking into him.

“Victor is like that ogre, isn’t he?” He looked down. “I’m that little boy, all I need to do is give him a chance to show that he’s nice.”

“Such a smart young man we have here!” I tickled his tummy, making him laugh. “Ok, make yourself comfortable, I’m going to tell Victor you are ready for bed.”

10:45 PM

The silence filled our bedroom as I packed the bag for my impromptu two-day trip. My husband was in bed, reading his book, obviously still upset with me, not dignifying my presence with a single word.

“Are you going to give me the silent treatment until I leave?” I leaned on the doorframe leading to the closet. “I don’t want to leave you in the middle of a fight.”

Victor placed his book on the nightstand with a sigh.

“I’m not giving you the silent treatment.”

“I don’t understand, you travel on business all the time.” I sat beside him, pushing the glasses up on his nose. “Why is it so bad that I do the same?”

“I don’t like to have you this far from me.” He sighed. “I’ll reschedule my appointments and go with you.” He grabbed his phone, ready to call Goldman.

“ You can’t go, who will take care of Owen?” I held his hand lovingly. “Besides, when I send you the signed contract, you need to make sure everything is in order and put it in motion before Cooper decides otherwise. Not to mention it’s investment revaluation week. Goldman can’t do it all on his own. I know it and you know it.”

“What if something happens? What if you have some kind of setback and I’m not there to help?” He squeezed my hands tight, pulling me closer. “I’ll worry.”

“There’s nothing to worry about!” I looked into his eyes, pleading. “It’s just for two days. What could possibly go wrong?”

Victor pulled me into a tight hug.

“Two days, not a second more.” He spoke firmly into my year. “In two days, I have you back in my arms.”

“You have my word.” I kissed his chest. “Two days.”