#i'm happy with it its good its great i move onto the sequel i move backwards to a weird prequel/in between thing

[krytus]

a week ago i was ready to give up on kings blood and today i just finished outlining each new chapter of the restructuring/rewrite im doing 😌.....

[thelightningthatjumpsbetween]

Twenty

RE8 | Wintersberg | Romance, Slow Burn | Action, Sci-Fi

Sequel of Winters and the Beast, a Resident Evil: Village Story

Table Of Contents

Ethan's Journal

August 31

Today started off by getting stabbed by someone who looked almost identical to Karl.  Turns out it was his identical twin.  What I don’t understand is what he said when he stabbed me.  Who tells somebody “Don’t cave” and then stabs them?? 

The good news is that I healed fast…we have time to figure out how to help the Mutamycete without sending Eva back. 

I do feel pain around where the wound was, but hopefully that will go away soon too. Eva says I might be healing fast because I know how to ‘focus’ on healing now.  

Karl has been with Donna most of the day.  It was weird how she just randomly started remembering her life, and it happened faster than mine did.  Karl has been sad all day too, but he won’t say much–Typical.  At least Rose is in a good mood!  We played outside until the storm clouds showed up.  And now I’ve been sorting through the things we got in the mail.  It’s nice to have a break from thinking about “Mold stuff”. 

Then around 5, we got more visitors.  Maricara, Alina, and Lidia!  It is so great to see them.  They haven’t stopped by since Rose’s party.  Maricara said that the Duke was in their village to trade, and told her about Donna.  She came with a basket of fabric, a big sewing kit and a bunch of supplies. I guess they’re going to try to help Donna with some project.  Maricara knew her real mom so Donna has someone to talk to about her family.  They’re the best kind of people.  I offered them all their old rooms upstairs, they’re going to stay for the weekend.  

So even though the day started out pretty bad, it’s looking up. Let’s hope it stays that way.  

Karl and I are going to the field tonight. I'm happy that he’s finally on board with confronting Miranda even if we’re not ready to fight her yet.  She can’t come into this world and I believe Godric when he says she can’t take Rose either. All I can hope is that Karl gets answers about his brother.  I’ve never seen him so agitated, unless you count after I killed “Sturm” …he was pretty mad, but that was nothing compared to this.  I’m a little nervous about seeing Mia…if she knew Miranda all those years ago, maybe Miranda did something with her identity too?  It turns my stomach to think about, but I need to know….I’m tired of not knowing things.  

Ethan rubbed his eyes and stared at the journal entry.  The intense eyes of the Heisenberg twin, moved onto paper by way of his pencil, glared up at him, and he closed the leather-bound book.  With a sigh he stared out the window at the mostly grey sky; stars were out already, and clouds moved quickly underneath them.  Thunder had rumbled most of the afternoon, but no rain yet fell.  As Ethan watched, lightning flickered across the valley that once-was Heisenberg’s Factory, below the cliffs.  

Were they crazy to go down there?  They’d discussed where specifically to venture–Heisenberg’s idea was over the obliterated ceremony site.  Not only was it over the original location of Miranda’s lab, it was where the Mutamycete had lived before Chris’s explosives.  Since its regrowth, the central nervous system of the Mold was now away from that site.  But if any of the underground cavern systems remained–Heisenberg swore that he could sense them with his powers-then the Mold itself was powerful in that area.  Eva had agreed with this.  

It wasn’t a bad idea, but Ethan was even less enthused about going back there than he had been to go to Dimitrescu’s castle.  It was, in a sense, Ethan’s death place.  Well…one of them?  He wondered if Miranda would be able to manifest there in different ways, if the Mold would help her.  It seemed to in the past, even with Eva and Rose working against her.  

The office door opened and Eva entered, looking particularly solemn.  Ethan turned his gaze from the brewing storm, and managed a faint smile for his friend.  

“Rose having fun seeing her friends?” 

“She is,” Eva said with a grin, “But I believe Maricara is the most happy.  She says Rose will say her name soon.” 

“That’s a lot of syllables even for me,” Ethan protested, stretching at the desk.  As he moved to push the seat back, Eva stayed him with a hand, and then pulled a stool away from the wall, to sit next to him.  

“I need to tell you something.”  She had papers in her hand–Ada’s research, he could see. 

“Okay.”  Ethan raised an eyebrow.  “You’re sitting down.  That means…?”

“It means it is important,” Eva said with a heavy breath.  “Not bad.  Yes?  Just…important.” 

“Is it about Karl?  Is he okay?” 

“He is fine.  I think it is about all of us,” she said, tilting her head as if she were uncertain.  “He read this first, while Donna slept and he stayed to watch over her.  He wanted me to make you aware of it as soon as possible.” 

“Why couldn’t he?”

Eva scratched her hair awkwardly.  “I do not think he is in a mood to talk much.” 

“Fair enough.”  Ethan had worked for months to get the reclusive engineer to talk in the first place, and most of what Ethan knew about Heisenberg’s past came from accidentally stepping into the other man’s thoughts and mind.  And now Heisenberg was handing off important information through Eva.  The blond massaged his temple, wishing there was more that he could do, but he finally leaned back in the leather chair.  “All right, hit me.” 

Eva’s confused stare reminded him that she’d not been in a human world for many years.  

“I mean….show me what you’ve got.” 

The blond woman thumbed through papers, moving to a paragraph with sloppily made notations beside it, slashed in red pen.  Heisenberg. 

Ethan abruptly made a noise and held up his hand.  “Wait.  This isn’t…your….mother’s writing, is it?”

“No, it is from the biologists in Ada’s organization.  She translated it for added security.”  Eva tapped the paperwork. “They seem to be simply trying to understand the Mold, rather than using it for weapons.  Although the same cannot be said for other, adjacent organizations.” 

“Right.” 

She began to read aloud, impressively translating the German to English as she went.  

“...Questions arise then as to the sentience of the Mold itself.  If considering the widely accepted model of consciousness which suggests that sentience and awareness are broadly grounded in the biology of the cell, it becomes obvious that firstly, the Mold is keenly aware of its environment.  It is very much like other fungi when mapping: its mycelium expands, detects the physical structure of its surroundings and responds to the availability of food and the presence of other organisms. The overall pattern of branching is determined by the genetic code, but the exact positions of each branch are dictated by the character of the environment. 

For this reason, the shape of each colony is never reproduced. The individual fungus is unique, much like how no two humans are exactly alike.  As this organism’s basis for operation, its “fungal brain”, has obviously imitated the human brain network, this calls defensive and survival mechanistics into question.  

Pathogenic fungal mycelia such as this mold and many others respond to their environment when they invade a host. Species which target humans have been shown to modify their growth form to become more invasive as the infection develops. These responses are genetically programmed and not learned behaviors, but the mold is able to grasp things about its environment and show that it learns.  

This leads to our report result: 

We have concluded that this Mold affects its hosts emotionally. 

Nowhere is this more obvious and evident than in witnessing behavior of its hosts after infection.  Many subjects have been mapped and their behavior studied by psychologists with all results leading back to the concept that the Mold influences its hosts’ decisions for its own survival. (like any parasite)

See attached reports from psychiatrists for more information on data gathered and how it is quantified.  

In mammal studies, including infected wildlife but most notably, infected humans, the Mold implants a strong desire for family into the host’s mind.  This manifests differently for every person affected based on the host’s pre-existing experiences and beliefs about family, but it…” 

Eva’s lip was trembling and Ethan stared past her toward a far bookshelf, his own eyes glassed over, as her first tears began to fall.  Exhaling and steeling herself she continued reading, but her voice was very much affected.  

“It is clearly part of the organism’s learned mechanism for survival.  If a candidate has, as two examples: a pre-existing yearning for family or, no close family relationships, the Mold’s influence can cause behaviors that are erratic, toxic, or even self-harming.  The host is not experiencing mental illness, rather, they are responding to the signals from the parasite to get, and keep, a family close.  This usually leads to behavior patterns that do not match the host’s personality–interviewed infected persons have stated during these ‘crises’ they felt no control over themselves or their desires.  

For notes on extreme examples of this manifestation, see examples ‘Connections E Series’ and ‘Romania - Miranda.’ 

In other subjects, who did have positive family connections, the bond between those family members was strengthened universally.   The Mold rewards positive behaviors and emotions much like a human brain, and hosts report feeling satisfied when they are with their families or loved ones–even reporting feelings of bliss or euphoria when an entire family network is infected.  

In case studies where one member of the family was given a healing serum, removing the mold from their body temporarily, the other family members became combative and tried removing the patient from the room even though no danger to the host existed.  They become overprotective, anxious, and feel negative emotions for any threat and often manifest as overprotective family members.    

It is likely that hosts who manifest this type of protectiveness would have unmatched resilience when a family member is in danger.  We have documented animals with this protectiveness: an entire pack of infected wolves mourn the deaths of its elder members, showing symptoms of depression for months, and an infected murder of crows were witnessed having funeral ceremonies and mourning together after a death of one of their own.  Both communities of mammals had intense aggression when approached by outsiders.    

For notes on extreme examples of this manifestation, see example ‘Dulvey - Ethan Winters.’” 

The papers were thrown down onto Ethan’s desk, and Eva cautiously wiped her eyes, trying to judge the other blond’s reaction.  He was massaging the bridge between his eyes, his teeth bared as the information sank in.  Ethan’s hand dropped from his eyes down to his mouth and he stroked the dark stubble there. He stared at Eva, cupping his own chin. 

“So I’m not even me, really.  I just…” He shrugged, his voice hollow.  “I’m just…..a psycho dad because of the Mold.” 

“No,” Eva argued sternly.  Likely, she had been anticipating this response.  “You are still you.  The Mold affects everyone differently.  What it has done is amplify your pre-existing feelings about family.  It has propelled you when you needed it, to save your daughter.”  Eva’s fingers brushed his knee.  “Everything you have done is because you are noble, Ethan, and brave.  This doesn’t change that.” 

He frowned at the compliment.   “But this means that all of us…every single person…is doing whatever we can to what?  Seek family?  Be a part of a family?”

She was silent, biting her lip and then lifting a hand to her own chin as he’d done.  

“I suppose so, or at least, subconsciously, in ways.” 

“So…Miranda slaughtered a bunch of innocent people by turning this into a fucked up experiment for one person’s life…Eveline had Jack doing her dirty work of trying to create infected people to expand her own network….Mia, what?  What did it make her do?” 

“I don’t know Mia very well,” Eva admitted, “But from what I understand, she tried very hard to stay in her marriage with you, hiding things from you and trying desperately to make things appear stable and make you happy.  Could you see how that would benefit her, as a host, responding to these feelings, the need to…keep her family together?  On top of the love that she had for you?”

Ethan sighed, but he was still too in-shock to produce tears or outrage.  Instead he gripped the sides of the large leather armchair, and planted his feet on the ground.  

“I’m not even a person at all.  Nothing I do is even me.  Are any of my feelings real?”

“They are all real!  Ethan, you are not listening.” 

“Oh, I’m listening, I even made it as aggressive dad footnote in their article.”  When he threw his head back, closing his eyes, Ethan mused aloud, “Guess this explains the Lords.  Donna needed a million terrifying dolls to keep her company.  Moreau obsessed over Miranda.  And even Lady Dimitrescu and her monster daughters.  The Mold just wants us all to be one big happy family.” 

It had begun to rain.  What was usually a comforting sound now filled his heart with sorrow.   He remembered Godric’s words.  Sorrow will find you. 

He wasn’t trying to avoid it or anything, but damn it sure seemed to seek him out, didn’t it?  Eva looked heartbroken, and he met her eyes for the first time, happy to listen to her, instead of his own cynical thoughts.  

“I could almost forgive my mother, knowing that her grief was transformed into something that would benefit the entire organism.  Almost.  But what she has done is turn this survival mechanism, which could have been something so lovely, like the love you showed in protecting your daughter, into something horrific.”  

Hearing Eva speak so sadly about her own mother caused Ethan to put aside his feelings; he didn’t have feelings, actually–he was numb, from his head down to his feet, he could feel nothing.  It was the type of news that made one go blank, disconnected immediately, just like he’d done when Eveline first told him he was made out of mold. 

Even in a moment where his own distraught grief eluded him and he turned into a barely existing shell of a person, he had compassion.  Ethan stood and pulled Eva into a hug.  She soon burst into tears, sobbing onto his chest, and he hugged her harder, planting his chin onto the shorter blond’s head. From the hallway of the second floor, he could hear more sobs, likely Donna.  

The house would have made a good haunted attraction today, what with all the wailing.   And Karl’s loud Frankenstein-boot stomping.  Ethan smiled to himself, and then Eva ended up laughing through her sobs, choking as she fought to control the laugh.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that thought,” he said quietly, smiling against her cornsilk hair.  “Eva, it’s gonna be okay.” 

She laughed more, and then sighed as she pulled away, wiping tears again.  “Thank you, Ethan.” 

“Thank you for dropping the bomb, I guess.”  He sank back into his chair as she turned to leave.  “How did Karl feel about it?” 

Eva paused at the door, keeping it closed.  

“He didn’t say much, but I think he is happy to have some answers about the others in the village–their devotion to the religion.  Perhaps he also has answers about his own resistance to the pull of family.” 

“Yeah, why would he have that resistance?  What made him different?” 

Eva frowned, and finally turned back to Ethan.  “It is not my place to say more, but Heisenberg has always been protected.  By someone out of the reach of the Mold.  A true family member, which has…perhaps…overridden the commitment that Miranda put inside him when she infected him.  I think he has always believed his father and brother were also protected, immune.  Knowing that at least his brother is not, is devastating to him.”  

His mother.  

Ethan hadn’t said it aloud, but Eva nodded anyway.  

Ethan remembered the vision of Heisenberg’s, the pitiful and yet horrific creature strung up on pulleys-that looked dead but was not afforded that luxury.  That was the source of Heisenberg’s protection, his link to true family?  It was nightmarish.  How could Heisenberg have any solace at all?  Then again, maybe he didn’t.     

He chewed on his lip, and then waved at Eva.  “Get some sleep.” 

“Be careful tonight,” she warned.  “I know you don't need to hear it...and I already told Karl....Not all answers are comforting.”  

[egelantier]

guess who binged the entirety of leverage: redemption in 24 hours? i did, i did, even though i had to psych myself up a bit first. leverage was one of vanishingly few american/english-speaking TV shows that didn't let me down, didn't meander or lose the plot or did the characters dirty or lost its sense of hope and kindness and beautifully lived-in humor, and i was so afraid the sequel is going to mess it up. hardison's not there? new-ish lineup? noah whyle? (rant about him pulling the blanket onto himself and messing up with the nice ensemble show on librarians omitted for time).

what if they did it wrong? what if they're too egregiously dated or embarrassing? what if rogers forgot how to write eliot/hardison/parker? aaah. i had so much anxiety!

and now i have to report that NO EVERYTHING WAS EXCELLENT AND GREAT AND IT'S THE BEST SEQUEL EVER AND I'M SO GRATEFUL IT EXIST. GO WATCH IT NOW. IT'S A RAY OF JOY IN THIS TURBULENT WORLD AND I LOVE IT.

ahem.

dumping a bunch of spoilery and unspoilery reactions under one undiscriminating cut:

i loved how they dealt with timothy hutton not being on the show anymore, and by extension with nate's character, who was, for me, a very important part of the story: with nice verve and gravitas, and selling it with emotions, not just plot convenience.

eliot, hardison and parker are extremely, extremely, extremely married. i'm not sure, by the vibe, if it's an equal triangle of hardison-centered v with eliot and parker being platonic buddies, but yes, those are people who spent eight years together. (and banging.) the in-jokes! the synchronisity! the klingon! the nerdspeak! eliot calling hardison 'babe' at least two times! parker's incredibly inappropriate delight over hot, tight, new vents! god, if they only ever interacted in this pilot, i could live on it forever, and it continued, and it was great.

i'm extremely sad they didn't had hodge for the duration of the show, because apparently he grew from magnificent to incandescent in the interim, but the way they did it was absolutely amazing and worked extremely well for his character (and eliot/parker/hardison family too).

eliot is always my growly favorite, and the best thing about his show is how it's very… without being spelled out too much, it's visible that in those eight years, he's let go of last of his grief and rage and guilt, and he's happy. he's got his soul back, entire, he has his family and his world-changing job and his hobbies and his joys, and he knows that redemption is a lifetime work, and he's doing it with a smile. it was just great to see him, every moment of screen time.(he also kept his habit of being into very tall warrior women, which i can imagine fitting in with his family with no problem, and: good for him. i'm sad they didn't get mikel back for this particular beat, but it was still great.)

parker: sheer delight. just, she's still very much parker in all her gorgeous and gloriousness parker-ness, but she grew into it and into herself and into a variety of roles without reserve and without a limit, and i love her.

brianna the new baby hacker, hardison's baby sister, was SUPER good, fitted the crew like she was always there, and had a variety of great and fun relationships with the entire team. loved her.

SOPHIE: flat out stole the show. i always liked her, but secondary to the ot3, but: she brought so much weight into this reunion tour, her power and her grief and her mischievous streak and her ruthlessness and her hilarity, it was amazing. and i loved how she was very - she was her age in a way that you very rarely see on tv, i think. she and parker both, but sophie especially. my heart for her.

harry the dirtbag lawyer turned good, aka noah whyle: surprisingly great! they didn't give him a mastermind role, which would've killed the show for me, but instead drew him in as an overwhelmed but quickly invested and happy newbie with a lot of sins to atone for, and his bumbling and enthusiastic delight (with some darker underneath) fit the crew dynamics very well without being overpowering or distracting. good for him, and good for the show.

ELIOT LEARNED KLINGON FOR HARDISON AND PARKER DID TOO I REPEAT.

hardison's nanna is alive! and used to fbi on her doorstep.

sadly no sterling or bumbling interpol agents.

eliot made an aging security agent friend who bakes on one of the jobs, and it was adorable.

'LET'S LURE HIM IN AND ALL STAB HIM WITH THE FORKS.'

i laughed my entire ass off the george martin bit. oh show.

ELIOT JOUSTING: THANK YOU, GOD AND JOHN ROGERS. THANK YOU.

the updated and modernized cases - i recognized shkreil, but i'm sure everything else is also america- and current-world based, because the center cannot hold, et cetera - is sliding juuuuuuuuust to the line of being pleasant wish-fulfillment - if only there was a team of genius criminals to punish the unjust and save the innocent! - without being too bitter. i was worried about this aspect, and some of it is too on the nose, but - this was always leverage.

still no gay people, unless this one word in brianna's speech meant she was non-hetero in some unspecified way. that's a pity.

at least two of the marks had anxiety/ptsd that the team exploited in a way that was also very borderline to me: like, on one hand it should be recognized that mental illness doesn't excuse you from being a monstrous asshole to other people, and on the other hand, i wish the devs would learn their lesson from white rabbit job and just, like, don't. but whatever.

parker's cinderella dress, ehehehe.

"you just flipped your hair, eliot."

a surprising amount of the show, for all that it's, as always, hilarious, was - i'd say the entire theme was - about grief, and about grieving for the unfixable and lost, and continuing to move. i liked it a lot, and while sophie carried a lot of it, pretty much everybody had a bit of their own to do, and they all just - grew so much.

in conclusion: ah, ah, ah. what love.

[losille2000]

The Swan, Chapter 6

TITLE: The Swan CHAPTER NUMBER: 6/? AUTHOR: Losille2000 WHICH Tom/CHARACTER: Actor!Tom GENRE: Romance/Drama FIC SUMMARY: Sequel to The Ugly Duckling. Astrid embarks on a two-week trip to London to serve as her sister’s maid of honor, hoping against all hope she might miraculously run into her Hawaiian mystery man. When her sister and soon-to-be brother-in-law drag her to a production of Hamlet to meet the groom’s best man, Astrid gets the shock of her life. The situation, though, is anything but perfect. RATING: M (sex, language) WARNINGS: None in this chapter. AUTHORS NOTES: So... what can I say? It's been a while. If you want the whole story, you can look through my blog or message me. I'm happy to answer. That said, it's been a good three years since I did any serious writing. My writing muscles need to build back up to what they were before. Please be kind... and let me know what you think. :D

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - ALSO ON AO3!

Chapter 6 - Flying the Coop

Regret.

Astrid regretted ever stomping up those stairs to Tom’s bedroom. She regretted challenging him to make a move. She regretted letting him have his way with her. In the moment, it seemed right. Maybe if they slept together again, they’d find an incompatibility, especially now that the air of tropical mystery had dissipated and left in its place two broken flesh-and-blood people.

How wrong could she have been?

Now it was amplified, deeper, hotter, engulfing.

Only two weeks for whatever this fire was to fizzle?

It wasn’t, as the Brits say, bloody likely.

And here she was, smack dab in the position she didn’t want to be in; no matter how tangentially her current association with her mother, the family business, and Hollywood was, being connected to Tom in this way presented too many problems to even consider at this point. And fucking him—

“Astrid, are you even listening to me?”

Astrid jumped from the intrusion, letting out a slight squeak. She blinked hard and turned in her spot to look at her sister, who stood in the middle of the furnished but unoccupied flat. “Sorry?”

“Are you okay?” Tilde asked. “You’ve been spacey after the dress shop— and I’m just worried.”

“You don’t need to worry.”

“Let me worry,” she begged. “Let me be the big sister I never got to be.”

Astrid laughed ruefully. If only she could actually talk with Tilde about Tom. She wouldn’t understand, or at the very least, it could pose some very difficult situations in the coming days with the wedding right around the corner. But, Astrid guessed, Tilde meant the other elephant in the room... Astrid being the elephant, and their mother being a Class A narcissist. Because there was absolutely no way Tilde would know about what had happened at Tom’s home...

“It’s too late for that, Tilde,” Astrid said. “You know I love you. I just— there’s no changing her.”

Tilde grumbled and glided over to the couch in the living room. She dropped down on top of the cushions, barely displacing the pillow stuffing with her slight ballet-formed frame. “I should have never allowed her to do all this. I should have done it on my own, it’s not like Jim and I are so hard up. But I thought...”

Astrid held up a hand to stop her sister and sat on the couch more gingerly than Tilde, measuredly, so as not to displace any stuffing in the overstuffed couch, either. Something her mother had taught her, after all: If you’re not going to put in effort to look like a lady, you can at least act like one.

God, even that memory still hurt, down to the marrow in her bones.

“But you did.” Astrid shrugged and laid her head on the back of the couch. There, she sighed.

The sisters sat in silence for some time, listening to Duchess rooting around the flat for something to chew on. When the pug found nothing, she eventually jumped up onto the couch and snuggled into Tilde’s lap.

Astrid cleared her throat. “It’s not all Mom, either. I’m just tired from jet lag and getting everything together for the house party.”

And sleeping with the Best Man. She was pretty sure she’d read a romance novel or a hundred about this situation once. Did that make her a cliché?

“Oh, I meant to ask,” Tilde interjected. “How did that go? Tom was a total tool last night and I was worried about today.”

Astrid licked her lips subconsciously; she could still taste the sugar left by a bite of tiramisu Tom had given to her on a fork. If she concentrated hard enough, she was sure she could still taste the salt of his skin mixed in with it. She could certainly feel the tight muscle in her thigh that pulled every time she shifted, from the way he’d bent it and held it firmly in place as he’d had his way with her.

Frankly, it was a miracle they’d accomplished anything after they ended up in bed. But, she supposed, that was the weirdest part about the whole afternoon. They got out of bed, dressed without speaking and just... worked on what they needed to for the party. There was no discussion. No arguing. Tom stayed a respectable distance from her; she wasn’t sure if she had really wanted him to do it again, over and over, until they were both exhausted. They ate lunch quietly, they got everything organized and packed into his Land Rover, then Tilde showed up and they bade farewell, like it was something they did every day.

Nothing more was said about Hawaii, or a relationship, or lies, or having this end in two weeks. He seemed to be ignoring the topics all together, likely in the misguided belief that if he didn’t bring it up, then everything was fine. She ignored them because discussing WHY she refused to become a true part of his life was too painful.

Astrid pursed her lips and closed her eyes again. Isn’t that what she told him she wanted, though? To feel worshipped and then go about their lives, like nothing happened? Ignore all the elephants and enjoy the sex. No emotion, only sex. He was just following her demands, his need too great to put the brakes on their interlude in his bed.

The problem was that she did want more with him. She wanted emotion and relationships and rainbows and butterflies. When she had thought of him as some wealthy businessman she might once again bump into while visiting London, this had been possible. She had, after all, imagined a reality over the last eighteen months that included falling in love with him and living a life together.

But he wasn’t a businessman. He was an actor. He ran in circles she just couldn’t stomach anymore.

“It was fine. We finished everything and packed it all into his Land Rover for the drive up to Cliveden,” Astrid finally said. “The costume deliveries will be there when we arrive.”

“This really has gotten out of control,” Tilde said. “Part of me just wants to run to the register office and get it over with.”

Astrid shook her head violently. “You do that, and I’ll flip the fuck out. I put too much work into this.”

Tilde laughed. “Scared you, huh?”

“I’m serious, Tilde,” Astrid said, lightly smacking her sister’s thigh. Duchess popped her head up, and thinking it was an invitation for her, came over to her aunt. Astrid cuddled the dog close to her chest, breathing in her freshly bathed fur.

“She likes you,” Tilde said.

Astrid kissed Duchess’ head. “Small children and dogs, apparently.”

Tilde chuckled softly before letting out a long sigh. “I bet she would really like it if her Aunt Astrid were around more.”

“Aunt Astrid is a teacher and never has any time,” she replied directly to Duchess. Duchess reached for the hand that had stopped petting her and touched it with her paw. Her imploring buggy pug eyes asked Aunt Astrid for more.

Tilde huffed, but said nothing more for a long time. Then she cleared her throat. “How do you like the flat, anyway?”

“It’s nice,” Astrid confirmed. In fact, it was nicer than “nice.” This flat looked like one of those staged ads in a real estate magazine with lots of recessed lighting, soft gray colors, top-of-the-line furnishings and a ton of space.

“We’re trying to decide if we’ll sell it or keep it as an investment property,” Tilde replied. “It’s kind of a pain in the ass as a rental property, though.”

Astrid nodded. “You could just give it to Dad’s company to manage.”

Not that doing so was a great option, either.

If Astrid saw her mother irregularly, she saw her father even less. After their separation, he spent time in Las Vegas developing a new casino concept and then, when Astrid graduated from UNLV, moved his business operations permanently back to Sweden. Still, though, the relationship with her father was better than it was with her mother, simply by virtue that he was never around and didn’t have an opportunity to find the weaknesses in her armor like her mother. Tilde rarely spoke about either parent, but Astrid was certain their relationship was similar.

Tilde sat up and turned to look at Astrid seriously. “Or you could move into it.”

“Excuse me?” Astrid said, her heart skipping a few beats, from a sudden surge of anxiety and... something else.

“I’m serious, Astrid,” she said. “We don’t see each other enough and I want to spend time with you and make up for all those years we were apart.”

This wasn’t just some passing fancy. Astrid could see that as plain as day on Tilde’s face. Her sister was determined to convince her to move to London. But for what? She had no support system other than Tilde and James... and her career... well, that was back in Las Vegas.

Not that Las Vegas itself was the most amazing place to live and work.

“I’d never see you anyway,” Astrid argued. “You’re always rehearsing, or preparing to rehearse, or performing. And god knows James is going to be busy doing whatever.”

“Yeah, about that...” Tilde said, trailing off quietly. She picked at the dog hair on her sweater for a few seconds, then slowly looked back at Astrid. “I’m retiring at the end of this season.”

“What?!”

Tilde shrugged. “James and I want a family, and if I wait until it’s a ‘good time,’ it’ll never happen because of our schedules. And really, it’s getting harder and harder to come back from injuries and such. I just... I need a long break from being a performing ballerina. I don’t have the fire I once had, the same will to fight for every goddamn role.”

Astrid simply nodded. This was huge news. Ballet was Tilde’s life. She’d been doing it since she was a little girl, had impeccable skill and training and talent for it. The joke was that Tilde had come out of the womb in pointe shoes.

Which wasn’t that far from the truth, really. As soon as their mother could, she’d gotten Tilde into dance with the best instructors money could buy. Their mother, the failed ballerina, always lived through them. Which explained why she did not like anything about Astrid— Astrid did not have anything that would benefit her.

“Have you told Mom yet?” Astrid asked.

Tilde shook her head. “Of course not! And listen to her prattle on about how I’m a failure and she gave me so much and I’m just a terrible person? No, thank you. I’ll wait until she is permanently back in LA before I tell her.”

Even though Tilde had not yet told anyone else, it somehow eased the tension in Astrid’s shoulders knowing that Tilde would be in their mother’s crosshairs for a change. Typically, that wasn’t the case; their parents always treated Tilde like the perfect golden child. Of course, Tilde had always been one of Astrid’s fiercest allies… when she could. However, since Tilde spent most of her life in London studying at the Royal Ballet from a very early age, support and camaraderie had been scarce. Now, though? Now it felt like she and Tilde could weather the storm together.

Tilde continued, “Yeah. I’m thinking about opening up a dance studio and then after the baby thing happens, if I still have the performing bug in me, then I’ll start guesting. But I’m just so excited to start having babies.”

Stopping the smile from forming on Astrid’s lips was impossible as she registered the excitement on Tilde’s face. Astrid felt the enthusiasm coming from Tilde’s corner of the couch. “I’m excited for you, Tilde.”

And she was. She truly was.

Tilde reached out and grabbed Astrid’s hand. “I’m serious, though, Astrid. We never had a great family growing up, and I see this as an opportunity to right the wrongs of the past and create the family we should have had growing up.”

“I don’t know, Til.”

“James and I have both talked about it a lot and we both agree.”

“Tilde, even if I did move here,” Astrid began, “I don’t know the first thing about teaching in England.”

Tilde nodded. “I know. But James’ parents are retired teachers. I’m sure they’d be willing to help you make heads or tails of it.”

Astrid pursed her lips and turned to stare at the dormant fireplace sitting in front of them. Duchess, who had not moved, made happy dog purr noises as Astrid massaged the tiny velvet triangles of her ears. To be fair to Tilde, Astrid had often thought of moving to London to be nearer to her, but she never thought it would happen or that Tilde would actually need or want her here. The fact that she was wanted made emotion spring to her eyes and prick at them until they watered.

But then, there was the other issue.

The really, super, ginormous issue that came in the shape of a devastatingly handsome British man she met on vacation. If she moved to London, she’d certainly be seeing him more. No clean break at the end of two weeks like she hoped.

“And, you know,” Tilde said, “London’s arts scene is stupendous. We have the hook-up. I thought you could get back into it. You can hardly do that in Las Vegas.”

Astrid snorted. “Tilde, that part of my life is over.”

“Why? You’re amazing. I remember the video you sent of your college production of Othello. There wasn’t a dry eye in the place.”

While Tilde’s appreciation for her talent warmed Astrid’s heart, it didn’t take away the sting of her mother’s actions. Astrid couldn’t even bring herself to discuss it with Tilde when it first happened, much less in the intervening eight years since the incidents that led to her total disavowal of all things acting related. Her silence on the matter, though, had finally come home to roost. First with Tilde telling Tom she was still an actor, and Tom calling her a liar because she told him she wanted nothing to do with it. And now, with Tilde staring her down imploringly. Tilde wanted answers just as much as Tom did, except for very different reasons.

Astrid could not force her suddenly leaden tongue to move in her mouth. Tilde would just have to live with not knowing the whole story, for now. Finally, she said, “If I move to London, I’m not going to be acting.”

“Well, I guess I’ll take that,” Tilde replied. “As long as you’ll still consider moving here to be with me.”

A knock at the front door startled them all, sending Duchess barking and wheezing to the door. The door opened and James popped his head inside. “Knock knock.”

“Come in!” Tilde sang back to him, jumped from her seat, and nearly leaped over the back of the couch to get to him like he was a cold glass of lemonade on a hot day. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him squarely. For a brief, possibly irrational, moment, Astrid was jealous of her sister and the relationship she had built with James.

Which wasn’t a great feeling to have if the plan was to spend more time with them. How could she uproot her entire life— leave her students and friends— and move halfway across the globe just to be consumed by the green-eyed monster?

“Babe,” Tilde said, “tell Astrid she needs to move to London.”

James laughed and turned to look at Astrid. “Astrid… you need to move to London.”

“Thank you!” Tilde pecked his cheek and pirouetted in place until she was facing away from him. She started walking back toward the bedroom. “Let me go get my purse and we can get going.”

When Tilde was gone, and the flat was mostly silent except for more of Duchess’ puggy wheezing as she calmed, James’ smile dropped into a stony seriousness. He stepped over to her and quietly murmured, “We would love to have you here, Astrid. But I understand if you don’t want to come. The decision has to be yours, and if you decide not to move, I will handle Tilde.”

Astrid was grateful for James’ level-headedness in the situation. In the short time she’d known the man, she found that he was a gifted reader of rooms. That was why he was so good with Tilde— a steady anchor in a turbulent sea. Clearly, he understood the anxiety twisting her stomach into knots.

She set a grateful hand on his arm and squeezed appreciatively. “Thanks, James.”

“And don’t let my association with Tom cloud your judgement,” James said.

Astrid withdrew her hand like he’d burned it. Her eyes snapped up to his, then focused outward on the rest of his features and body language. She didn’t know how he knew, but he did. Tom must have told James, despite that she asked him not to.

Unless Tom had told James last night…

“How do you...” She trailed off, turning her gaze and trying to hide her blush.

“He’s my best man for a reason. We tell each other everything,” James replied. “I had hoped that your work today would allow you some time to figure things out before more of this wedding commenced and caused a problem.”

Astrid gulped. “Does Tilde know?”

James shook his head silently.

“Good,” Astrid replied. Good for two reasons, really. The first, because it confirmed for her that the invitation to come to London wasn’t Tilde playing matchmaker. The second, because she still didn’t want anybody to know about it. “Wait… how much did he tell you?”

James stared back at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes and a slight curl at the corner of his mouth. “That would be breaking the Code.”

Her face now completely aflame, Astrid bent down and grabbed Duchess into her arms. She couldn’t even look at the man anymore without feeling embarrassed. Hopefully, it would pass quickly.

“Bad news!” Tilde called from the hallway as she came back into the room. Her thumbs moved rapidly over the screen of her iPhone. “Mother decided we needed an all hands on deck dinner tonight.”

Astrid groaned. “In addition to or replacing the one tomorrow night at Cliveden?”

“In addition to,” Tilde said. “Tom can’t make it tonight because he has the cast party, and Dad isn’t even in England yet, so that’ll be the official one. Tonight is probably just more nitpicking.”

“Do we have to?” Astrid whined.

Tilde sighed heavily and dropped her phone into her purse with agitation. “Strength in numbers, dear sister.”

Her sister's proclamation made the summons to dinner no better, but Astrid and James dutifully followed Tilde out of the flat and out to the car. The only saving grace was that Tom wouldn't be there. Astrid could focus on one problem, not two.