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notquitejiraiya · 6 years ago

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Chess [17] - {ShikaTema AU}

Despite all odds, and thinking I wouldn’t have got inspired to do it, here is Chapter17; brought to you on New Years Day as I planned :)

I dedicate this (which I never do) to the badass people who I’ve only spoken to a little bit, but have been so damn kind about my work and are just great people.

Enjoy :)

[Read / Comment on AO3 Here]

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Nothing could quite compare to how Temari felt in this exact moment, nor could she relate any experience in her life to the underlying fear that had resonated since Saturday night; that ever-present pang of hurt that clung to her chest and send shivers down her spine.

Gaara, as expected, had been as helpful as he could be. When she got home, after the false smiles and tired eyes played well in front of Kankuro, she made a beeline for his room, and found him sat in bed, reading as he waited. There he had sat, looking at her with a gaze that was equal parts exhausted and excited, but it took only one proper look at her for his arms to open up. And, obviously, she ran to him.

All she’d done was explained. The evening had been pleasant, despite the fact that he was late, and very much despite the fact that he wasn’t willing to give her up as a therapist. She was not going to be any use to him anymore—she must’ve told Gaara that a hundred times over, but nothing seemed to make him speak. As always, her little brother sat and listened intently, holding her close until she eventually calmed down and fell asleep in his arms. When she’d woken up he was on the floor with a blanket and a pillow, his red hair spread messy, and she couldn’t help smiling. He was definitely her big brother at heart.

Both Sunday and Monday had been days of false smiles and hiding, reading every file but his in an attempt to recollect her thoughts and not be useless, but every road felt like it lead back to him. Every phrase that fell from a patient’s mouth felt inferior, and, while on the Monday she had her first patient who was ready to stop coming to see her, she felt no fulfilment.

She thought knowing him had been making her happy, but now she felt almost nothing at all.

But that whole time had been leading up to this moment. For two days she’d been waiting to hear that door click, torturing herself by reading his file over today’s lunchtime, and trying her absolute best to keep up with everything people said to her. Without a doubt, though, she had never felt more on edge in her life, and she stared at the doorknob, just waiting for it to turn.

As the metal glinted as it moved, Temari wanted nothing more than to hide away behind her desk or disappear away, never to return. Instead she braced herself, took a deep breath, and desperately searched for a positive in the situation.

Three-fifty-four, she noted the time. He’s early for once.

“Hi,” she mumbled, forcing a smile.

“Hi. Sorry.”

“Come sit down,” she instructed, adjusting her position on her chair. “Are you, um, doing alright today?”

All Shikamaru could do in response was nod, rubbing his neck nervously as he stepped closer. “Well, this is awkward.”

“It’s not!” she lied. “So have you had any problems since Friday?”

It was his turn to lie, shaking his head.

“Really? None?”

And again. “No.”

“How’re your family?”

Suddenly there was a smile on his face, and she could feel herself getting riled up; confused by it’s appearance. “You’ve got no idea how to talk to me now, have you?”

Temari gulped, her palms sweating. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“This is horrible,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “It feels like we’ve never even met before.”

“That’s what I was going for. You were the one who said forget about everything, Shikamaru. I’m forgetting it.”

“I didn’t mean forget how to be a normal human being.” Shikamaru sighed, sitting back into the sofa and biting his lip as his eyes looked everywhere but at hers. “I meant go back to before what happened—I meant be yourself, Tem.”

“Temari,” she argued, correcting him. “And that’s difficult, given that I knew this would happen and yet you just had to come back.”

“Tem—”

“And now I can’t help you.”

The spark that was fighting to stay alive in his eyes suddenly went out, and his arms folded across his chest, sloppy like a ragdoll. His gaze flew towards the window, and like a statue he was at once immovable.

Temari felt a lump in he throat. “Shall I grab the board?”

He didn’t move.

“Okay then, shall I just go fuck myself?”

She thought she saw that slight smile wriggle its way back onto his lips, but when she blinked it was gone. “Why don’t you just ask me about Asuma?” he mumbled. “You were on a fucking roll on Friday until I stopped you.”

“Your teacher?” She frowned. “Is there more for you to say about him? You already covered a lot of it then.”

He laughed, humourlessly. “Forget it then, jeez.” She could see his eyeballs flickering side to side, lulling closer to closing as he watched the clouds. “It’s as if you’ve forgotten your job.”

The recurring desire to punch him was crawling back to her, stronger than it ever had. “My job, Shikamaru is to help you understand yourself, and to make you feel better. And, to be really honest with you, right now I have no idea how to do that whatsoever.”

“Brilliant.”

“Will you just shut up?” she shouted, burying her face in her palms.

Shikamaru could see just from the whiting of her knuckles out of the corner of his eyes how uncomfortable she was, and the sharpness of her voice wasn’t something he was used to. Why had he at any point thought that this was going to be different from this? Did any sane part of him really think that she wouldn’t be mad at him in some way, shape or form? Of course he didn’t, so why was he so surprised that she was upset, infuriated. She almost looked broken, and the same insane part of him that was so riddled with hopeful denial wanted nothing more than to mend her somehow.

But, then again, she was Temari—from what she’d told him she was the strongest person she knew. Surely some stupid skinny asshole hadn’t shattered that person to a nervous wreck. She wasn’t like him; or, at the very least, he didn’t want to think that she felt at all like he did right now.

“Temari, I’m sorry, I—”

“I don’t want you to apologise to me. I don’t want you to even mention it.” Her eyes, bloodshot and angry stood in agreement, but Shikamaru couldn’t help thinking they didn’t give the whole picture.

He leant forward in his seat, hands locked together between his knees. His gaze turned solely on her, desperately trying not to waver and determined to not look away again. “I’m sorry I came back.”

“I just cannot believe I called you selfless, Shikamaru. You’ve come back here purely for yourself, like you don’t realise how genuinely hard this is for me to continue with!”

“We went on one date…”

“Which was one too many, Shikamaru! I—” She stopped herself abruptly, lowering her voice to a whisper. “I almost fucking kissed you!”

He gulped, eyes falling to the floor.

“I’m sorry. Did you actually want to talk about Asuma?”

“If you want me to. If it helps me get better then sure,” he mumbled, nodding.

“That’s so important to you, isn’t it? Getting better.” Her voice was almost bitter, but she masked it well with her soft smile. “That overrides everything.”

Shikamaru’s shoulders drooped. “I mean, obviously it’s important to me, but I wouldn’t say it ‘overrides everything’.”

“So, if you were to have the chance to do something that would make you genuinely happy but it would stop you getting better, you’d do it?”

He raised his head again, shaking his head with the most surprising smile yet. “I know exactly what you’re saying. My IQ is through the roof remember.”

“I never said anything about—”

“But I know that’s you’re saying. I know what can make me better, and I will do it. When I’m better I can do the things I want to do…”

It was Temari’s turn to feel her stomach fill with guilt. Despite the anger that rushed through her body, and the insane temperature at which her blood was boiling, for reasons she couldn’t quite pin down, she suddenly felt herself go cold at the sight of his smile. Not calm—no she was definitely still infuriated with him—but genuinely chilled. So many times she had looked at him and seen nothing but his usual melancholic veil of false calm, having no idea what was really happening under than dark hair and what was really inside his heart. Never had she known exactly what he was going to say; she just wasn’t able to pin him down like that.

Until now, because, strangely, he could feel it herself. So many things at once, rushing around; always taking blame and never placing it for so many unforgotten mistakes and could-have been moments, trapped in a loop of hostility towards himself that made his fingers tap anxiously…she could see it all. And, despite all her instincts as a therapist, she couldn’t bear to watch anymore.

“Most of them, anyway,” he added finally, one corner of his mouth raising, as if to convince her he was okay, really.

It didn’t work.

“I’m sorry. I never should’ve agreed to go out with you.”

Shikamaru shook his head, a deep frown carved into his expression. “Stop it. You have nothing to apologise for.”

“But, I—”

“You’re only trying to help me,” he acknowledged. “It’s my fault that I’m back here, and it’s my fault that I’ve painted myself with an extra layer of pain every hour since Saturday, and I’ve kept adding to it; checking my phone, almost calling you, almost calling here yesterday. I know its entirely my own fault, and yet I can’t shake it off.” He let out a huge sigh, squeezing his eyes shut as his head shook, trying to displace his thoughts. “I just can’t fix it.”

As she watched him haul himself to his feet, zipping up his hoodie blind, Temari felt her boots violently hit the ground and soon she, too, was on her feet, making a beeline for him. When she’s turned the corner of her desk, her hips swaying rapidly as she sped walked, she reached out to grab his arm, but his eyes flew open, and he stepped back, crossing them across his chest.

“Don’t.”

“Shikamaru—”

“Don’t, it’s fine,” he whispered, trying to stop himself listening to his own words. “I won’t come back.”

Temari was too frozen by far too many emotions to move a muscle, and so she watched hopelessly as the young man paced towards the door—faster than she’d ever seen him walk—lingering with his fingers on the door handle. She thought, maybe, that he’d look up. Or maybe he’d turn and give her one final smile—one last hurrah.

Silently he nodded once, and twisted the knob, leaving as silently as he’d entered. It took seconds for Temari to collapse on the sofa he’d just been sat on, perturbed by the warmth of spot he’d just been in, and pull her phone from her pocket. Quickly, swallowing all of her emotions and whatever pride she had left, she dialled her most called number and listened to the beeps of it ringing, and ringing, and ringing…

“Gaara,” she said to the answerphone, not caring whether he listened now or in three hours, just desperate to speak to someone or something. “Please say you’re going to the pub quiz tonight with trenchcoat-guy. I really want to come—hell I’ll even pay for your drinks, just let me come. Please!” She was aware how painful her begging was, so after a long, deep breath, she uttered the real truth, “I just really need a bloody drink.”

Outside, at the bus stop in the pouring rain, a young man put his phone to his ear and uttered very similar words. “Choji,” he sighed down the phone, “please tell me you can meet me tonight?”

“Man, I’ll be at work from six onwards, but Ino’s probably free if—”

“I’ll come. I need you, man.” He did, and his friend’s vague company would be better than loneliness tonight. He couldn’t do it tonight.

~~~

Temari knew that every other Tuesday her youngest brother would come to the pub, drink with his friends, and play some quiz she’d never considered taking part in. What she didn’t know was that said brother was really, really good at it. And, while that inevitably made her feel a bit stupid and a little more downtrodden given the day she’d already had, it definitely had it perks. Perks which consisted of a lot of free drinks for winning each round.

The clock had barely struck ten and she was convinced at this point that she’d drunk a bucket’s worth of cocktails. Never had she considered herself a cocktail person—she had always been a ‘beer-out-of-the-can’ kind of girl, with the odd gin-and-tonic of someone else could be bothered to make her one. So, unsurprisingly, the pitchers of cocktails their quiz team had one, and she had drunk, had gone straight to her head.

Temari could hold her alcohol with the big guns—she could out-drink Kankuro any day—but this was dangerous. These drinks tasted like fruit juice, and they just kept on coming. She was smart, and underneath the fuzziness and slurring, she was perfectly aware that this was not going well.

And, for once, she didn’t give a shit.

Shikamaru, on the other hand, did.

He’d spotted her the second she walked in, hiding expertly underneath his scarf so she didn’t notice him, and ever since he had been sat, hidden behind a pillar, hoping that she’d never leave her seat—never see him. She had as much right to be here as him, and yet he knew if she saw him she would get up and leave. Or, at least, she would’ve.

He hadn’t join in with the quiz, although Choji had violently urged him that he should, telling him he could get crisps or juice instead of the drinks they gave to winners if he just asked.

“Look,” he said as Shikamaru peered over at the blonde drinking some fantasy-coloured drink through a draw, “you can join in anytime. You’ll ace it if you do!”

“Choji,” he argued, “I didn’t come to play a game and eat crisps. I came to be with my mate and not be alone. If I’m going to feel sad anywhere, I may as well feel sad in a room full of noisy strangers.”

His friend had to stop himself reaching across the bar to hug him. “I’m sorry I have to work, man.”

“It’s fine. Just get me a drink.”

“Orange juice again?”

“No.” Shikamaru shook his head, biting on his lip. “Give me whiskey. Double.”

Choji’s eyes widened, and his forehead creased into a worried frown. “Man, I really don’t think you want to—”

“Choji…”

“The most you’ve drunk since you were eighteen is half a pint of weak-ass beer,” he winced, “and we all know you don’t enjoy drinking.”

Shikamaru fished out a five pound note and held it out to him. “God, you’re a pain. Keep the change, now come on.”

“Shikamaru, you don’t want this. You’ll hate me tomorrow.”

“I said double, Choji.”

The blank stare he sent his friend’s way was enough to make Choji feel as if he’d lost a war, and he could feel the pit of his stomach growing emptier as he looked into the bleak abyss of Shikamaru’s eyes. He was going to ask what had happened but now, as he unwillingly lifted the transparent bottle and measured the liquor as required, he didn’t have the nerve. Something about the lifeless urgency in the voice of his best friend made him feel broken, and after he thought it was all getting better, too.

He snatched the money and put the glass before Shikamaru. “If it weren’t for the fact that my manager is really specific with the ‘refusal of service’ rule, you would not be getting this. You’re an idiot.”

“Love you, too,” sighed Shikamaru, swirling the glass around.

“I thought you wanted to get better Shikamaru,” growled Choji, shaking his head, “but then you do this and just let yourself regress. I swear to God if it’s that girl—”

“It’s not her.” He knocked back the drink, squeezing his eyes shut. “Man, I forgot how shit that tastes.”

Choji only had to take one look at his blank slate of a face to know what was happening. “You’re going to bloody order another one, aren’t you?”

“And I thought you quit your day job as a psychic.”

The sarcasm didn’t even begin to amuse Choji, who shook his head and failed to find words. Only after he’d been called to help someone, minutes of staring at his expectant looking friend later, that he managed to speak. “Fine. But I’m not playing any part in it; ask someone else.”

Shikamaru frowned. “Choji, come on.”

“No,” his friend called back as he walked to the other end of the bar. “I can’t do it.”

After only a couple of minutes of longingly waiting for Choji to come back and throw in the towel, Shikamaru could feel himself falling into that familiar feeling of glee. Unfortunately, he knew it wasn’t real—sadly for his wallet one double wasn’t enough to fool him into genuinely feeling happy—hence the need for another. It had been so long since he’d allowed himself to do this. On occasions he’d always have one half and it would last him the whole night, and it would make him feel like he fitted in.

But this was no occasion; this was a desperate avoidance tactic, and he knew it. She was over there—the one person he simultaneously wanted to stare at the whole night and never wanted to see again—and he was painfully aware of it. He didn’t want to be aware of it.

He’d been to enough sessions with enough asshole therapists to know what he was doing, and he didn’t care—he didn’t care at all. There she’d been, suggesting to him that he was really only devoted to getting better, not feeling happy, and now he just wanted to scream, “Look at me!” until she took it back; until she took him back and rewired him as promise, fixed him as promised…

Of course, he didn’t do that. He couldn’t be bothered to do that. Instead he waved down the smiley brunette girl behind the bar and got himself the same again, and necked it instantly, forcing a smile at her afterwards when ordering another.

But the longer he sat there, the smaller he felt. It was like when he first did this, years ago, and it wasn’t washing over him the way he expected, the way he craved. Suddenly the bar stool he perched on felt to high, and his neck felt too cold, so he threw on his coat and hopped down, drinking that last whiskey and rubbing his eyes. He couldn’t leave without saying goodbye to Choji, and he couldn’t go home or else his mother would yell at him for drinking after so long of holding back.

Choji was right, no matter how much he’d deny it out loud. This was all because of her, that troublesome woman. Through nobody’s fault but his own he’d built her up as this fantasy saviour; the beautiful woman who cared about him no matter what, in a way he’d never even imagined before. And as much as he’d laugh off the ridicule from his friends about his many lonesome years, he really had never thought of anyone like that. Before this—this bizarre, impossible to pin feeling—he’d never wanted to spend time with someone just for the sake of it, and he’d never wanted to listen to someone talk about nothing like he did her.

“This is it, isn’t it?” he mumbled, so quiet he could barely hear himself. “She’s got me.”

He couldn’t leave, but he could hide from her until she left, and from Choji until the whiskey ran it’s course. And where could he hide in this pub that she was guaranteed not to go? Well, there was only one place that came to mind.

However, in his slightly drunken state as he shuffled towards his destination, the first thing Shikamaru had managed to forget that Temari still had eyes, no matter how blurry their vision was, and obviously she spotted him immediately. Stumbling to her feet, she told Gaara she was just nipping to the bathroom, and took her bag with her, slung haphazardly across her shoulder.

The second thing he forgot was that she definitely had the nerve to follow him into the men’s bathroom, and that he definitely wasn’t safe from her in there.

So, when she edged open the bathroom door, as subtly as a drunk woman can, and found him smoking next to a half opened window, she fumbled for the latch at the top of the door, locking it quickly. “You don��t drink my ass.”

Numbed, Shikamaru turned slowly, frowning in surprised. “T-Temari? What’re you—”

“You didn’t actually want to go out with me, did you?” She slurred her words into what almost sounded like three long words, and immediately Shikamaru realised he wasn’t nearly as drunk as thought he was; or as he wanted to be.

“What are you talking about?” he sighed, exasperated.

“That’s why you didn’t make any effort to impress me. You didn’t want to did you?”

Shikamaru couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness, tapping his cigarette out of the window and letting the ash fly into the wind. “Of course I wanted to,” he insisted. “I’m just useless, Tem.”

She blinked expectantly at him, shaking her head constantly. “Bullshit.”

“Temari…”

“Temari, what?” she laughed, clearly unamused as she waved her arms about dramatically. “Temari, I’m sorry I’m a miserable git. Temari, I’m sorry I lied to you. Temari, I’m sorry I made you fancy me.”

He rubbed his eyes with one hand and took a drag with the other, strategically blowing the smoke through the window. Nothing was coming to mind to respond to her—nobody had ever silenced him in the way she did, cornered him like she did, terrified him like she did.

And he almost craved it.

Trying his best to smile, he squished the butt of his cigarette on the windowsill and left it there, turning to look at her. She looked all the more beautiful tonight, but something deep within the dark depths of the subconscious he loathed so much was telling him that was due to the alcohol in both their systems, and the rosy cheeks hers had graced her with.

With all her could muster, Shikamaru leant against the wall next to the window, hands in the pocket of his coat, before he finally opened his mouth to tell the brutal truth, “Temari, I’m sorry I couldn’t bare the idea of not seeing you again.”

Yeah, right, he mused inside his mind. As if she’s going to remember that tomorrow.

Suddenly, unexpected to him, Temari dropped her bag and advanced on him, walking in jagged lines—intense zig-zags—and he could feel his knees begin the shake. “What the hell are you doing, Tem?”

“You didn’t get it, did you?” she asked, pulling one hand from his pocket and placing it on her waist.

Gulping, Shikamaru tried his best to remove it and stay calm, but every time he almost escaped her loosening grip she grabbed his hand tighter. In the end he just kept it there, and stared into her gorgeous teal eyes with the most passive desperation. “What?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, her lips centimetres away from his. “Why I asked you to stop seeing me as a patient.”

When she bit her lip, despite all his attempts, Shikamaru felt his knees quiver more and more. “I, um,” he mumbled, voice managing to remain steady despite his body’s weakness. “I think I need to go find your brother, and—”

“No, please don’t,” begged Temari, her nose brushing against his so delicately.

There was no denying that he wanted to hold her, and he wanted to kiss her, just as she was clearly attempting. He couldn’t lie to himself and say he hadn’t had a sleepless night wondering what the hell would’ve happened if the other night this had happened instead of their sad reality. But he didn’t want it like this.

He could only just smell the floral notes of her perfume, over the alcohol that plagued the air, and while she smelt of sweet tropical juice rather than anything evenly mildly bad, he couldn’t change the truth: they were drunk, and he didn’t want it to happen this way.

“Temari,” he whispered. “Tem, are you paying attention?”

She hummed softly, her forehead flush against his now.

“We can’t do this, love.”

A soft moan fell from her lips, and the hairs on the back his neck stood on end. “Why not?” she whined.

“Because we’ll regret it,” he sighed, himself a little upset by the fact.

“I-I won’t,” insisted Temari, stubborn as ever.

“You will,” Shikamaru corrected, smiling slightly as he pushed her away. “Can I borrow your phone?”

She frowned and held onto his shoulders for support as she stumbled backwards. “Why?”

“I just want to let your brother know you’re okay.”

It took a long time of him standing with his hand out expectantly, but eventually Temari caved with a smirk and handed him her phone. While she wasn’t quite sure why she couldn’t have just done that, she didn’t question him. Probably because in that exact moment, she wasn’t quite sure about anything.

“There,” he mumbled, biting his lip as he handed it back. “I told him you’re getting some air and will probably make your own way home.”

“He won’t be fine with that.”

Buzz.

She looked down at her phone and the text message that appeared on the screen.

Gaara: Fine. See you later :)

“Okay, maybe he will,” groaned Temari, “but where the hell are we going?”

Shikamaru shrugged, hands in pockets as he watched, amused, as she tried to slot her phone into her bag. “I can take you home?”

“And risk Kankuro punching you?” she cackled laughing.

“Then that’s a no.”

“Take me home with you.”

He almost choked on his own spit. “What?”

“Please,” she whined. “Take me home with you.”

“No!”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll wake up in the night and punch me.” He could hear himself, and the melodrama he was spouting, but he still didn’t sound worried, as such.

“Then where?”

Shikamaru bit down on his lip and accepted the arm she slung around his shoulders. “I have an idea.”

~~~

“No.”

“But Choji,” he pleaded, this time taking the role of the whining one, “neither of us can go home.”

Choji shook his head. “I’m not giving you whiskey and letting you bang your therapist in the same night. I already feel like a shit friend as it is.”

“I’ve sabotaged myself here, man,” insisted Shikamaru. “And I promise we won’t do that. I just want to make sure she has somewhere to sleep, man.”

“She has a house!”

“Where she’ll talk about me and then everyone will feel even more shit than already.” He raised his eyebrows. “Man, I didn’t ask for her to follow me into the bathroom.”

Surprised, Choji’s mouth fell open. “She didn’t?”

“Yeah, she’s smashed.”

“She needs to go home.”

Shikamaru nodded, sighing.

“You’re still drunk, aren’t you?”

“Only with the words, man. Brain is doing fine.”

Choji raised his eyebrows and smiled at his friend, pulling him in for a hug, which Shikamaru begrudgingly accepted. “If you hug me back you can have the keys to my flat?”

The thinner man hugged tighter than he ever had.

“They’re in my coat out back. Use that door.”

Shikamaru smirked. He had a true friend in this guy, and he found out as much more every single day.

~~~

Temari sighed, throwing her spoon into the plastic bowl Shikamaru had given her and fell back into the couch. “I can’t believe we’re literally above a fish and chip shop and you didn’t let me buy any.”

“You shouted at the guy that you would ‘kiss in return for fish’.”

“Damn right I did,” she laughed.

Shikamaru chuckled. “And I thought I was the asshole.”

“You definitely are.”

“Tem, I just cooked you pasta at, like, twelve-a.m.”

“You’re right,” nodded Temari. “You’re a saint.”

He looked over at her and smiled, almost sadly. Choji’s flat was very small, a room with a bed and a wardrobe, and another with a small kitchen and a couch, but Temari had made herself right at home. He couldn’t help but admire how she did that. Not taking into account the fact that she was drunk out of her mind, he also couldn’t believed the way she was slowly sinking towards him, arms wrapping around him.

“You’re wonderful, Maru.”

His eyebrows raised. “Maru. New one.”

Temari looked up, hurt. “You don’t like it.”

“I don’t care,” he mumbled. “You go ahead.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, tracing patterns on his chest through his shirt. “You’re really wonderful.”

“You said.” If you couldn’t see inside his head, you’d have thought he was fed up of hearing that brilliant sentence. “You should go to sleep, Tem,” he added, changing the subject.

“I was stupid to make you feel so small. I made you feel like shit, didn’t I?”

“You didn’t,” he lied, letting her position his arms to hold her. “Just get some rest.”

“You’re wonderful, you know?”

Shikamaru smiled, the most real and fulfilling smile he’d had in a long time. “So are you, Tem. So are you…”

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ruffsficstuffplace · 8 years ago

Text

The Keeper of the Grove (Part 51)

“Fuckin' hell, can you dig any slower?!” the Boss of the Valentinian goons complained.

“This'd go a lot faster if someone didn’t pull off that shit with the dirt-blasters!” replied one of the goons digging with shovels.

“In my defense, it did significantly cut our travel time past that mountain!” Abner said as he stood with his hands and ankles shackled together. “Why take the long way 'round when you can just send your carriage straight through it, right?”

All five of the goons glared at Abner, trigger fingers itching, knuckles turning white from how tightly they were gripping their shovels.

“… I'll just be quiet now...” Abner muttered.

“You do that...” spat the other goon on shallow grave duty.

All was quiet for a while save for the sounds of digging and cursing.

“Awright, that's deep enough!” said the Boss. “Get outta there, grab your guns, and let's all shoot this motherfucker dead—and I want ALL those clips on empty, and a grenade on his face when we're done, in case he's wearin’ bulletproof clothes again!”

“Do we have to shoot him, Boss?” asked one of the goons climbing out the hole.

“What, you want to give ‘im a chance to pull off more of that Houdini shit on us?!” the Boss barked.

“Nah, I was wondering if we couldn't just beat the ever loving shit out of him till he stops moving,” the goon replied. “Got a LOT of stress built up from the trip here, and I want to let it all out before we all head home.”

One of the other goons snorted. “He not help you enough when you thought we were all asleep?”

“Fuck off!”

“All of youse, shut up!” the Boss cried. “We shoot him, toss some dirt over ‘im, then we get the fuck outta here, all accordin' plan!”

“What, you afraid the Keeper's gonna get us?” one of them teased.

“Never thought you'd be scared of fairy tales, Boss,” another hummed.

“Keeper, wild animals, whatever the fuck is killing and eating everyone that comes here, I don't want to meet 'em, capisce? Now get your guns before my trigger finger 'slips!'”

“Alright, alright!” “We're going, we're going!”

Soon, all five of them were standing in front of Abner, his feet right on the edge of his grave, the barrels of their guns point-blank on his chest.

“Anyone have any last words before we ice this fucker?”

“I'd just like to--” Abner started.

“Anyone other than this fucker have any last words before we ice ‘im?”

“Yes,” said a new voice. “Get out of the Valley before I have to dig graves for ALL of you.”

The goons spun around, and came face to face with the Keeper.

“I had the good fortune of being knocked into my grave; ironically, it ended up saving my life as it was just deep enough for me to avoid all the bullets that went flying around, or being caught in Ilaya's scythe swings, and also gave me time to finally pull out the lock pick I'd fashioned from the dirt-blasters.

“It was a miniature seismic-wave generator that could easily liquify the anchors for my bindings, you see.”

“You made that on a bare-bones trip to the Valley, with five armed Valentinian Debt Collectors who wanted you dead riding with you and watching over you at all times?” Weiss asked.

Abner nodded. “The key is to feign stupidity; people will be wary of a smart man, but quickly grow tired of an idiot. And sometimes, actual stupidity works in your favour, when it provides you with a new angle you hadn't seen before, or a window of opportunity.

“Anyway, I managed to break my cuffs, and waited for the sounds of fighting to stop. After that, I attempted to climb out, after which a hand reached in to help pull me out. I had assumed that the Keeper had left, and that one of the goons had survived and had made the rational choice of keeping me alive to better our chances of survival…

“… Only it wasn't one of them, it was Ilaya.”

Abner stared up at the face of fear itself, her crimson eyes glowing in the darkness, his hand wrapped tightly around hers, frozen like the rest of his body.

“You okay?” Ilaya asked.

Abner screamed, his free hand pulling out the lock pick, and blasting Ilaya's wrist with it. She yelped, unharmed but surprised, he took the opportunity to use the last of the pick’s battery to dig handholds for himself.

“STOP!” Ilaya cried as he scrambled out and ran into the woods.

Abner replied by screaming even louder.

“SERIOUSLY, STOP! YOU'RE GOING TO RUN OFF A--”

Abner wailed and flailed his limbs in the air as the ground beneath his feet suddenly disappeared.

“… Cliff…!” Ilaya finished too late.

His screaming continued for a few more seconds.

Thud.

Ilaya ran up to the edge of the cliff with the help of her mask's night vision. “Are you still alive down there...?” she yelled. “Groan once for 'Yes,' and—uh, I guess I'll just climb down and look for you! Wait right there!”

At that, Abner's head shot up from the ground. The canopy was thinner here, the moonlight illuminating the little grove of plants he had found himself in. He grabbed one of the wild tubers by the stalk, and pulled it up as food for later.

He stopped as he realized that it had a face.

Abner blinked.

The elemental started letting out a high-pitched, ear-drum bursting wail. Abner dropped it and clapped his hands over his ears, running through the grove as the rest of them woke up and joined in the bone-chilling pandemonium.

“I ran until the screams of the elementals stopped ringing in my ears, at least, and found myself in an ironbark forest. The Fae do in fact harvest them from the wild, considering that it's difficult to replicate the conditions that allow the quality they desire for their weapons and other projects. Aside from that, they only ever grow so strong thanks to the constant love and attention of their symbiotic caretakers:

“Steel Spiders.”

Abner stopped for breath, put his hand against a tree for support. He didn't notice that he had cut himself on the bark until he felt something other than sweat dripping down his palms. He quickly pulled it away, wrapped his wounds with some bandages he always had stashed somewhere on his body, before he took in his new surroundings.

The moonlight shined down on the ironbark trees, massive, angular titans with branches that shot out like metal spikes, twisting and turning like a set for a horror movie. All that was really missing were the bodies and viscera hanging from them.

Abner nervously made his way through a spacious gap in the trees.

He hadn't noticed the steel-silk web until his palm had already been caught in it.

Twang.

Abner paused as he heard the strand vibrate, letting out a musical sound like an instrument's string being plucked. He turned his head to the noise, watching it vibrate an attached strand, and another, and another, making an admittedly lovely chime.

Then he saw some of the ironbark “branches” start moving, eight eyes opening and glowing in the dark.

Abner tried to pull his hand from the web, but it was stuck, and the strand held strong.

The music became louder. More and more of the webs began to resonate, alerting the other steel spiders that there was prey.

Abner bit back a yelp and began to walk backwards, trying to see how far the strand could stretch until it broke. He stopped as soon as he felt several sticky somethings attach to his back. His teeth began to draw blood as he tried to jump forward, and accidentally got his foot caught in a low-hanging web.

The chiming had become a full on melody now, echoing all throughout the grove. Even more of the spiders woke up, excited, for it seemed like there was even MORE prey that had gotten caught in their webs.

Abner desperately, violently jerked his limbs and staggered around, trying to free himself from the webs, only succeeding in getting himself even more tangled until he could not move an inch. The music he was making would have actually been quite pleasant to the ear, had it not also been the dinner bell for the steel spiders, and the soundtrack to his doom.

Abner saw one of them begin to crawl down the ironbark tree closest to him.

His two eyes met the spider's eight, saw his reflection in those glimmering orbs, its giant fangs curl and twist upwards.

Abner screamed.

“… Would steel spiders happen to be why Fae invented the word for 'BIG FUCKING SPIDER, RUN!'?” Weiss asked.

“Oh, goodness no! Those are MUCH larger than the steel spiders could ever be and bounds more dangerous.”

“… How large are we talking about?”

“Oh, somewhere between half the size of a building such as the Plushie Palace, to little larger than it.”

“… Do these happen to live in the Valley?”

“Oh no, they live in the—ow, OW, OW—sorry about that, seems my thought process got too fast for my governor and it had to pull the emergency brake. Shall I resume the story?”

“Can we skip to after Ilaya rescues you?”

“Can we not? It's quite a daring, musical escape; the melody she made as she cut the webs and sometimes even plucked them intentionally to fool the spiders is permanently stuck in my head, both for being so catchy, and because this was how I got my crippling fear of steel spiders and ironbark groves!”

“I think I'll pass, thank you...”

“Oh, alright... anyway, after Ilaya performed her daring rescue, she took me far away from the grove and to a stream so she could refill her canteen—chasing after someone like me is thirsty work. Because the grand crescendo of the rescue, where she stunned the entire grove of spiders with a sound not unlike an especially powerful electric guitar riff, I had become temporarily deaf, and couldn't understand a word of what she was saying.

“She tried her best, but unfortunately, Keepers are better at killing the horrors of the Valley than they are at breaking language barriers...”

Abner stared at the Keeper, frozen in fear, dumbly nodding his head as she made cryptic signs with her hands, no doubt what horrible, terrible things she was going to do to him if he misbehaved.

She had taken off her mask, revealing a surprisingly human and friendly face, nothing even remotely close to what they rumoured to lay underneath that skeletal visage, but he knew all too well the disconnect between friendly appearances and what sort of person lay underneath.

Satisfied that Abner understood she wasn't going to kill him, that there were going to be more horrible things that would actually try to kill him if he got out of her sight, and that she was just going to get a drink of water, Ilaya turned around and pulled out her canteen from inside her cloak.

She was taking a long drink of water when she heard a splash.

She spat it all out as she noticed that Abner wasn't where she left him any more.

“I'm quite an excellent swimmer, as it was a regular part of my cardio exercises, and a lot of my more daring and close escapes have been made through watery routes—you'd be surprised at how many people close off the streets first, and sometimes never bother to check the sewers or the canals, Valentino being the only exception.

“I could have easily escaped Ilaya, if not for the carnivorous fish that lived in that river who did NOT appreciate my presence.”

Ilaya ran along the bank, her mask back on her face, trying to find Abner's aura—a difficult task as the magic in the water was gumming up the sensors.

Bubbles rose up to the surface—as they popped, Ilaya could hear the staggered bits and pieces of a now familiar scream.

She dove into the water.

Splash!

Moments later, pieces of dead fish floated up to the surface. Ilaya broke through soon after, gasping for breath and hauling Abner over her shoulder. She dug her scythe into the roots of a tree growing over the water, and pulled them back up to dry land.

She laid Abner on his rear, held him up by his shoulders. “You okay?” she asked.

Abner threw up all over her.

“… Probably should have seen that coming!”

“You were extremely lucky that Penny's creators had the foresight to build a water filtration unit for her; the microbes and elements in the Valley's water are vicious little buggers if you aren't adapted, and the ones in magic-enriched water like that river more so.

“I was stuck in the hospital for weeks! I should have died from a mixture of dehydration and water-borne illnesses, but Ilaya, kindhearted soul that she was, managed to convince the Council it'd be better to try and keep me alive than euthanize me.

“And this was no mean feat: up to that point, no one knew anything about me other than the fact that a Valentinian organization thought it was necessary to bring me all the way here to execute, and it wouldn't have been too far of a stretch to assume that I was a gigantic problem they wanted gone for good reason.

“It didn't help that caring for me was difficult, with at least two menders on me at all times and hourly visits from a water weaver trying to detoxify my body and acclimate it to the Valley.

“And oh sweet Shepherd, the buckets. There were so many buckets…!

“About the only thing that kept me going was that Ilaya always came by to try and cheer me up, and as I'd later find out, act as a subtle means to guard against someone euthanizing me under the Council’s noses.

“This was before they installed my governor, and I was quite loopy from the water, the sickness, and the trauma, you see.

“Eventually I recovered, and together with Ilaya, made my case for the Council. I was a controversial issue ever since she returned from patrol early with me unconscious over her shoulder, and the division only grew with how expensive my treatment was, and the opportunities lost to both the Valley and the Fae that took care of me.

“I managed to convey to them that I was a highly skilled inventor, and with Ilaya's help to keep me on track, I helped create the Tubes. Funny how it was inspired by my noticing how fast the current was taking me and the distance it was helping me put between me and the aquatic predators trying to kill and/or eat me, and my complaining about how long it used to take to get to and from Keeper's Hollow to the rest of the Bastion—even if all that rowing did wonders for my arms!

“That was where I helped build the very first Tube station, by the way, with the maiden voyage being to the Tree of Life, the second station.

“As I had proven myself more than worth everything they had already invested in me, I voluntarily had a governor-chronicle installed to help tame my worst impulses, took a vow to maintain the Fae's secrecy, and I've been living the good life here in the Valley since.

“And that, Weiss, is the True Tale of the Keeper of the Grove!

“… Well, my section, at least.”

#rwby #white rose #the keeper of the grove #fanfic

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