#is it strange even as children I wanted you to wear the spiked dog collar even though you were playing Penny

[gonzodangerfeels]

Me: boy go to your mother for flexibility lessons.

[amariaamaris]

Of Changes and Revelations

I got this idea from the other Marvel and TVD crossover that I did, it is going to be (hopefully) very different. I hope it comes out well and that I do it justice... I’m already working on a second part, I felt that this was getting a little to long! Please let me know what you think and if there are any grammar/spelling/punctuation things that need fixing. Constructive criticism is always welcome. This took me forever, there were so many roadblocks and questioning myself on if I actually wanted to write this. Thanks to my sister pushing me and my imagination running wild with promises of what I can do in the future with this... I decided to go through with it... so enjoy!

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After it’s all said it done; after Esther failing in killing her children, Bonnie’s mother being turned to break the link, Abby bailing (again), Klaus forcing Bonnie to break the spell Esther did... The expulsion of magic that resulted inadvertently saved Finn’s life, knocking out the scooby gang in the process (including most everyone in the town). While also setting fire to anything flammable within the radius of the town (leaving only a select few homes and buildings untouched). It’s safe to say all the white oak is gone... along with multiple buildings.... (oops?) The poor trees are all fried, though luckily they have strong bark, so they’ll survive (it also helps that Bonnie helped to heal them).

All of it coalesces and brings Bonnie to locking herself up in her grams house for as long as she pleases with no acknowledgement of the outside world. She had methodically gone through the house and unplugged the internet, tv’s, shut down her phone, and all other electronics. She just wants to be left alone, Bonnie is exhausted; she’s tired of being used, abused, and taken for granted.

She had found a boundary spell in one of the grimoires to keep those with ill or selfish intent off her property and the fu- away from her (especially certain vampires). In the middle of the week Bonnie left her grams house and went to the school. At the beginning of the week she set up this time to test out of high school.

Bonnie made sure to blend in with the crowd to not be spotted by her “friends”; they may have not seen her, but she definitely saw them. She took the test within three and a half class periods and got the hell out of there. Bonnie drove away like a bat out of hell and made it back to her grams house as fast as she possibly could. She had completely moved into her grams house throughout the one after another of the supernatural shit show that she now calls her life (or rather did call her life). Not like her father was ever around for her to bother staying in his house.

The plus side of testing out of high school is that she can go and get whatever she needs without being worried about being ambushed by her “friends” or the Mikaelson's. Bonnie has also decided that she is going to take all the time that she needs to spend on self-love, working with her magic to learn, and embrace it joyfully. She also has been spending time in meditation and speaking with all of her ancestors. For once in her life, Bonnie Shelia Bennett has finally decided to be selfish and damn the consequences.

Little did she know that her new change would go right along with a huge change that will flip her world on its axis and bring up deeply buried memories.

————

Rudy Bennett knew that this day would come, he knew that eventually they would hunt him down. After all, he did abandon his post, he cut off all contact and went rogue. In doing so, also kept his child away from her culture and her people. He knows that if they find out about her and his lack of parenting, that would sign his fate.

Rudy couldn’t hide his shaking hands as he poured himself a drink and promptly chugged what was in his glass. He did decide that he wouldn’t run or hide, he was going to wait for them to come. He just got done pouring his second one when the lights flickered off; causing a shiver of fear to run down his spine, he could also feel sweat on the back of his neck.

When the lights flickered on, there were two Dora Milaje standing on the other side of his desk. Still as stone holding their vibranium spears, with the king and his cousin standing in between them. Both in different black panther suits (armor?), causing Rudy to gulp. Rudy could feel more sweat break out on his skin as he warily stared at his king.

“D’Kadi Dzube, you’ve been missing a long time.” Rudy or rather D’Kadi watched as both the men tapped on their collars and watched as the mask melted away and showed their faces. Rudy could hear his blood rushing to his ears as he felt himself pale a little. “You were once my father’s most trusted war dog. Then one day, you disappeared without a trace. Just a few months ago we found you... we also found some very interesting information. D’Kadi Dzube you have a daughter that you hid from your people. From my understanding you have been neglecting her as well.”

Rudy could hear ringing in his ears and the blood rushing through his body, he could imagine that he looked white as a sheet. Everything was blurring and before he knew it his eyes were rolling and he fell into darkness.

————

Bonnie could feel something coming to the depths of her bones, it would cause her to pause as her hair would stand up on its ends. Which would lead her to looking out the windows, but there was nothing there. It got to the point where Bonnie decided to add an extra warding to the house rather than the property. Evidently to keep anyone away from the structure of the home, while still being able to enter the yard (only if they pass the wards on the property that is).

Bonnie had started a cute little herbal and vegetable/fruit garden in her backyard, along with some landscaping spanning around the whole house. Along with flowers on both sides of the pathway walking up to the house. Bonnie has never before felt this free and happy. That doesn’t change the fact that she still feels a phantom twinge of pain when she thinks of how her friends haven’t even tried to come visit her. Not. A. Single. One.

Hell! Even Klaus showed up! Not that he could get on the property and it’s not like he was checking up on her... but still! Bonnie lets out an annoyed huff and shakes her head as she focuses back on her plants at the front of the house. She tries to work through her agitation; at her friends, the Mikaelson’s, the Salvatore’s, her parents, her grams for not teaching her from the beginning, at herself for not being smarter and wiser, and Bonnie might as well add the world to the list to. 

She very quickly finds herself falling into a flow of taking care of the plants as everything washes away. Bonnie has found that in many instances doing something like this puts her in a meditative trance that helps to center her. Two hours pass with Bonnie working on her plants, when she hears a car drive up and park on the curb.

Bonnie allows herself to slow down in her landscaping work, but doesn’t turn around - even as she hears the car doors open and shut. She can also hear strangely accented voices talking, both male... but she can sense more people with them. Hearing them coming closer makes Bonnie glad that she chose to wear a wide brimmed straw hat that belonged to her grams (she’s rather not have people recognize her before she can tell whether or not they are threats). 

“Excuse me? Are you the daughter of Rudy Bennett and Abby Bennett....” She freezes, but gives no answer. Bonnie can already feel her magic gathering, ready to motus the hell out of all of the people behind her. Receiving no answer, the people behind her exchange looks, “Granddaughter to Shelia Bennett?” Bonnie feels her agitation spike, causing her to rip off her dirty gardening gloves and throw them to the ground.

Bonnie turns around to look at them, noticing two men that look like cousins, two bald women that have what look to be tribal tattoos on their heads, and a random white man wearing clothing far heavy for how warm it is. Bonnie can practically feel her magic crackling at her fingertips and through her hair. “That depends on who is asking and why...?”

One of the cousins move to step forward, but upon seeing the look on her face, thinks better of it. Though, that didn’t stop him from kindly smiling at her, “My name is T’Challa, this is my cousin N’Jadaka, these two women are Okoye and Ayo, and this is James Barnes. I would like to speak to you about your father.”

Bonnie studies all of them and then flicks her eyes back to T’Challa, before she can respond with something biting, she hears whispers upon the wind. She allows herself to slightly tilt her head to listen better. After a few seconds Bonnie focuses back on T’Challa and the people he brought with him. “I’m not interested in talking about the sperm donor that calls himself my father. I could care less what type of underground cultish mafia he got himself into. If he owes you anything make Rudy deal with it, his problem’s aren’t mine to deal with.”

Bonnie quickly makes her way onto the porch of the house - without turning her back on them (she doesn’t have a death wish) - already knowing that whoever these people are, they aren’t going to let her off easily. N’Jadaka, the man with weird bumps all over his extremely musc- no! Bonnie quickly mentally shakes herself as he snickers with a smirk on his face. “I don’t think I have ever heard someone call people from Wakanda a cult or mafia. The little kitten does have a point cousin.” He runs his tongue over his teeth, “She should be wary, she knows nothing about her father’s history. “

“N’Jadaka...” T’Challa gives him a sharp warning look, not noticing Bonnie moving to open the front door to slip inside. “Where do you think you’re going kitten? We said we wanted to talk that’s what you’re going to let us do!” He moves to go onto the porch, but feels like he hit a brick wall, N’Jadaka also gets a nasty zap throughout his entire body. Causing him to hiss slightly in pain as the group takes notice of the wind picking up and hissing whispers upon the wind (not that they could make out what they were saying). They do notice how Bonnie seems to understand exactly what is being said upon her head whipping around to face the road. All of them watched as she ripped off her hat and lightly tossed it onto the porch swing, they heard the sharp angry hiss escape from her as her green eyes darkened.

The group from Wakanda evenly spaced themselves out as they turned upon hearing a car door slam, they all watch as a long blonde haired young woman walked around the car and onto the property. “Bonnie! Where have you been? We have all been trying to get a hold of you, you haven’t been at school, you haven’t been answering your phone or showing up to practice! We’ve been worried! Honestly Bonnie Bennett you better have a good reason for completely cutting all of us out of your life... who are these people?!” Bonnie stares at Caroline for a few seconds realizing that her chest no longer hurts when thinking of her ex-friends. In fact Bonnie realizes with sudden clarity that there isn’t pain when she thinks of her friends, only white hot fiery fury and looking at Caroline only makes her annoyance and fury rise at the audacity that she had to show up to her grams house unannounced at her house, at her sanctuary.

“Who they are is none of your business Caroline, in fact they were just leaving, like you will be. I’m not particularly in the mood to talk to people that ruined my perfectly peaceful day by arriving unannounced.” Turning her attention to the curious onlookers Bonnie continues “I don’t care to talk about Rudy and whatever shit show he’s gotten himself into,” looking to Caroline “and I don’t want to be forced to listen to lies! I’m well aware that none of you have noticed my absence up until a couple days ago. I’m also aware that none of you actually care for me, all of you just see me as some weapon to be used. Well I’m done being your sword and shield. I want all of you the hell off of my grams property. Do whatever you want with Rudy, it’s not my problem and I want nothing to do with it. Caroline you and the rest of those assholes can shove your lies and demands up your asses. I’m not going to be your quick fix to problems you brought on yourselves. Grow the fuck up and deal with them yourself! Now get the fuck off of my property!”

The front door slams viciously behind Bonnie, whose screaming voice still echoed in the air with whispers following it, the group from Wakanda all had their eyebrows almost to their hairlines. While Caroline’s jaw was dropped almost to the ground in shock and hurt. “You should leave Care-o-line, you’re no friend of hers.” N’Jadaka’s voice quickly pulls her out of it and brings up her misplaced righteous fury. “Oh, really, I am her friend. Who the hell are you? From the way it was looking none of you are friends of Bonnie’s! I’m her best friend!! You had to have done something to upset her, she would have never said something like that or treated me that way! All of you are the ones who should leave!”

N’Jadaka moves to step forward, but James puts his hidden vibranium arm in front of him and says only one thing in a harsh warning tone. “Erik...” Causing Erik to suck on his teeth for a second then back down. While T’Challa steps forward with his hands up in the universal sign of peace. “Miss...” Caroline huffs out her answer to his silent question, “Caroline Forbes!” He immediately gives a soft smile, “Miss Forbes, I believe all of us need to leave Bonnie alone for the time being. If it makes you feel better we will get into our car first, but we will only be leaving after you drive away. She is important to our people and I will not risk something happening.” Caroline works her jaw as the gogs in her brain slowly turn, her eyes sharpen for a few seconds, but she quickly gives in and slowly, dejectedly nods.

None of them notice the whispers on the wind that one small young Bennett witch listens too as they all drive away, with a contemplating look in her eyes.

————

The next day has Bonnie working in the backyard harvesting the herbs, vegetables, and fruits that she needs. Bonnie gives absolutely no reaction to N’Jadaka’s presence as he walks around the back of the house. “You know it’s seen as extremely rude to not only invite yourself to someone’s house, especially not knocking on the front door.” She has to hide her slight smile upon hearing him huff out a laugh, “I’d love to knock on your front door kitten, the only problem is... I couldn’t seem to get on the first step.” Bonnie can sense the question in his words, but chooses to ignore it and continue her work. She can feel him watching her and gets quickly fed up witch a harsh huff Bonnie stops what she is doing, stands up, and turns to face him.

She has to give herself a few seconds to get accustomed to the height difference between the two of them, to put it simply... he dwarfs her. Not only in height, but in sheer muscle mass, she averts her eyes to try and hide the affect he’s having on her. Bonnie decides to chalk it up to the fact that she hasn’t had any direct human contact for a while. “Look N’Jadaka...” “Erik” His interruption causes her to blink, “What?” Erik let’s out a quiet huff while a smirk plays along his lips. “My colonizer name kitten, is Erik. I’d rather go by it than N’Jadaka... has a lot more pride in it than my other name does.”

Bonnie quietly mouths colonizer with a confused look, but decides that they can come back to that later. “Fine! Erik... just...” Bonnie let’s out breath and frowns as her eyes play across the plains of his face and the outdoors. “I don’t know why... but my ancestors like you and they say that I can trust you. Now I’m going to do something that I never do... I’m going to trust my ancestors.” She allows herself to walk up to him and look him directly in the eyes “and if you ever... and I mean ever break that trust. I will personally find a way to kill you, slowly, painfully, and only when your begging for mercy will I kill you... got it?” While she was talking her finger was poking him in the chest to help emphasize her words with a sickly sweet smile upon her face.

Erik gives a slow smile knowing that he shouldn’t find himself turned on by her threat, but he is. He allows himself to carefully grab the hand she was poking him with and holds onto it. Erik chooses to ignore the quiet gasp that escapes her lips... for the moment “You got it kitten, would you like me to explain what you were very unwilling to talk about yesterday with my cousin?” He watches completely fascinated as her eyelashes shadow her eyes while she thinks it over, when she looks up and focuses back on him, she gives a hesitant nod. “Okay, but your helping me with my garden... if we have to talk about something that I would rather never have to think about again, your going to be useful and help.” Her words pull a sharp laugh out of Erik, as he grins and gives a nod in acceptance.

Once she quickly shows him what do to and what to look for, they start working. As they work he explains everything to her, everything hidden from her, everything that her father has done... everything. It completely shatters her, it obliterates everything she thought she knew about her father and his side of the family, everything she thought she knew and understood about herself; it sends her completely into orbit. She doesn’t even realize that she is crying, nor does she realize that she is raging at Erik and upon his body. Her fists swinging to hit his chest as her magic angrily swirls around them. Bonnie feels as though she is shattered into a trillion shimmering atoms being carried away upon the wind. She can’t tell if she will ever find herself... how can she? Bonnie doesn’t think that she can gather the exploded pieces... how can she find them? They have scattered to the wind getting caught in the trees, falling to the streams of water to be carried and caught elsewhere. Bonnie can’t even feel Erik tightly holding her as he somehow carries her inside of her grans house. And eventually, much later into the night, he helps to pull her back together, but for now. He try’s to help hold together what little is left of Bonnie Shelia Bennett.

As her true name echoes through her entire being...

Ahnika...

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I hope you enjoyed it, please let me know what you think. The second part is on its way! Peace, love, and joy!

[rainythefox]

Nightfall (Ch.9)

Synopsis: Pre-Resident Evil 1, slight-AU/Canon Divergence. Claire Redfield comes home to visit her brother Chris for the holidays but gets caught up in a dangerous game of cat and mouse with Albert Wesker, the Captain of STARS, after stumbling upon dark secrets. She can’t call the law; Wesker is the law, and she can’t tell Chris. She is trapped…Claire/Wesker & Slight Chris/Jill. Rated M for eventual smut, language, violence, adult content.

AO3 Link

Chapter 9: The Goddaughter

Claire couldn’t believe she was actually doing this. The new, two-story brick home in the fancy neighborhood was just as quiet and expensive as the other homes on the block on this chilly morning, only Claire knew the evil inside this one. She was just here the other day, breaking in to try and find something to expose Wesker, and ended up nearly being ripped to shreds by his guard dog instead. She wasn’t here to break in this time. Oddly enough, as Claire stepped up to the front door and rang the doorbell, she felt she would’ve preferred dealing with the attacking Doberman over the corrupt STARS Captain.

She heard Odin bark once, but it was faint and sounded like it had happened on the upper floor. Still, she flinched from the awful memories of snapping jaws inches from her face.

William had stopped by yesterday evening, relaying a message from Wesker to meet him at his house after Chris was at work. Claire let her brother take his truck because Jill was off of work today and just gave the excuse that she would most likely stay home. When in reality, she was about to go see what his boss wanted with her.

William wasn’t able to give her anymore information when he gave her the message and left. And that created a whole new problem. Chris had spotted William leaving. 

Claire could tell her brother was starting to grow suspicious. Between her behavior and seeing William, Chris was beginning to realize something was amiss. He had good instincts; it was what made him a good cop. She had to figure out a way to keep him far off the trail, or they would both be dead - courteous of her brother’s double-dealing supervisor.

Ignoring the nippy wind, wondering if Ada had found out anything yet, the door opened, making her heart rate spike considerably. Here goes nothing...

She glared at Wesker when he greeted her with his usual sneer, magnified by his lack of shades, his icy-grey eyes, bewitching and dangerous, a stopping force all on their own. “Ms. Redfield, nice of you to drop by on this lovely morning."

“It's not by choice,” she grumbled and pushed by him when he gestured for her to come inside. “What do you want?”

She looked around the foyer and living room, tense from having her back to him as he shut the door. He didn’t answer right away, but she nearly leapt out of her skin when his hands brushed up her back, his voice purring in her ear.

“From you, dear heart? Where to even begin?”

He took her jacket off of her and hung it up. Still reeling from his words, Claire was stiff as a board as he wrapped his strong arm around her lower back and escorted her further inside. Some kind of charged electricity sparked under her skin from the contact. She finally got a grip on herself, ignoring her stomach as it flipped in a way she would rather not admit. The younger Redfield sibling moved away from him and went over to the den area, facing him and keeping her back to a couch.

“William gave me a message to meet you here after Chris was gone. He didn’t say why.”

“That’s because I never told him why.”

Wesker wore more formal, black clothes like she saw him wearing in NEST the other day. She hated that she found him even more attractive in such attire. The college student kept herself from gawking, instead she folded her arms and gave him a dirty look. “Well?”

He instantly reacted to her animosity with a dark smirk, as though her fire sparked something within him. Claire was starting to get the feeling that Wesker enjoyed her temper and defiance, as if he got some sort of sick gratification from it. It aggravated her even more, but at the same time she knew she couldn’t let him goad her. It’s what he wanted.

And though Claire had kept her eyes from wandering over Wesker’s chic outfit and toned body, he didn’t even try and hide his roaming eyes. “You look quite lovely today, Claire.”

Again with her first name. There was that light, fluttering sensation in her chest again. Claire hadn’t realized it at first, but she had backed up right into the sofa when Wesker took a couple of steps in her direction. Stop messing with me, you asshole!

Claire opened her mouth, about to give him a slew of colorful, unladylike words, when the Doberman trotted down the stairs into the den, tags jingling on his chain collar. Odin gave her one short look before his snout upturned towards the stairs, alert, his docked tail wagging before he sat on his haunches.

Something else came down the stairs a bit slower, emerging into the den with soft steps. The Redfield girl gasped, not at all expecting a child. The little girl spotted Claire staring and dashed the rest of the way to Wesker, using him as cover.

The girl peeked from behind him, gripping his shirt tight. She had to be around nine or ten years old, her blonde hair in a messy bun, loose strands hanging around her cute face. Her blue eyes were curious but shy. She wore jeans and a light blue shirt and white vest. She didn’t have shoes on, only socks, and there was a golden pendant necklace around her neck.

Claire’s inner motherly instincts kicked right in. The girl was precious and Claire had no clue why she was in a place like this, hiding behind a man like Albert Wesker as though he was her guardian.

She slightly bent over, smiling, and gently waved. “Hello there.”

Her soft greeting delighted the bashful girl and she came out a little further, although still kept halfway behind Wesker, gripping his clothes like a lifeline. “Hi!”

Claire glared at Wesker. “Kidnapping children now?”

“Charming,” he mocked. “She’s my goddaughter. Sherry, where are your manners?”

The name instantly clicked, and Claire remembered. So this is William and Annette’s daughter? She’s adorable!

“Oh, right…” the little girl mumbled. She smiled at Claire again. “I’m Sherry. Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

Claire gave her a big, friendly smile in return. “I’m Claire. It’s nice to meet you too, Sherry.”

Sherry blushed, slightly retreating behind Wesker. “I like your name!” She looked up at the tall, silent man she was using as a shield. “She’s really pretty, Uncle Albert!”

Wesker’s eyes were locked onto Claire, his lips twitching into the faintest of smiles. “She is, isn’t she?”

Claire shivered but quickly focused back on the girl. There was a strange, hushed excitement to Sherry that she couldn’t quite understand. It was as if she was shy, but, at the same time, was really intrigued by Claire. The younger Redfield felt a peculiar, warming connection right away with the child…as though their fates were somehow connected.

“Are you Uncle Albert’s girlfriend?”

Claire’s mind blew a gasket, horrified at the girl’s implication. “W-what?! No!”

She was about to unleash onto this little girl what kind of a monster she was hiding behind, but then quickly bit her tongue. Sherry was a child. There was no way she could even begin to understand. She looked at her godparent as though she idolized him. Wesker seemed to have everyone fooled. Everyone thought he was a good man, until, of course, they stumbled upon him in the woods blowing a man’s head off.

Claire sighed, took a deep breath, and faked a smile. “No, sweetie. It’s not like that.” She gave Wesker a hard look. “And it’s never going to happen.”

Wesker smirked, his eyes entrapping her, as though he knew something she didn’t. Claire forced herself to look away, feeling awfully jittery for a moment.

“Oh…I was hoping you would become my aunt and we could play.”

Claire’s forced smile derailed. She wasn’t sure what to think about that. Wesker’s goddaughter peeked halfway out from behind him, curious yet insecure. Claire had a feeling the little girl didn’t have many friends and didn’t get much attention from her family, if her parents and Wesker were anything to go by.

Claire stooped to Sherry’s level, smiling. “We don’t need to be related to play. How about being friends instead?” She extended her hand.

Sherry came out a tad bit further, eyeing Claire and her offered hand. She glanced up at her guardian, unsure. Finally, Wesker stepped out of the way. The girl froze, watching him, as if afraid her wall was gone to leave her out in the open unprotected. Wesker patted her head and gently pushed her closer to Claire.

“Go ahead. She doesn’t bite, Sherry.”

As if that was the only reassurance she needed, the young girl reached out and took Claire’s hand, beaming. They shook hands. Their moment was soon ruined by the phone as it started ringing on the stand on one of the end tables. Sherry’s smile disappeared and soon became disheartened, gazing up at Wesker. The STARS Captain checked his watch with a scowl and moved towards the phone. As he passed by the girls, he petted Sherry’s hair.

“What’s wrong?” Claire asked, watching as Wesker answered the phone.

Sherry sighed. “Daddy. He’s running late again. Or got held up and can’t come get me. I thought you were him when I heard the doorbell, even though he usually just walks in.”

Claire frowned. “Well, what about your mom?”

“She’s busy all the time, too. Like Daddy. They work at Umbrella and are making a new medicine to help people…but they work all the time and I don’t get to spend much time with them.”

At this point, Claire wasn’t even sure if William and Annette were working on any kind of medicine at all, let alone anything that could help people. “I’m sorry, sweetie.”

Wesker’s goddaughter shrugged with a weak smile. “It’s okay. Uncle Albert helps take care of me when he isn’t busy. He comes and gets me from school when my parents forget. He sometimes helps them make new medicine too, but mostly he just keeps me, Daddy, and Mommy safe and protects the city.”

You poor, naive little girl…if only you knew…

Then Sherry’s words clicked and she looked at the Birkins’ daughter. “Wait, Wesker makes medicine, too?”

Sherry nodded. “Yeah. He’s really, really smart! Him and Daddy are two of the best doctors working for Umbrella…as Daddy likes to brag.”

Claire logged it away. It was definitely something she could use in digging up dirt on Wesker. There was more than his corruption as an officer of the law. He was also in the same shady business as William and Annette, whatever Umbrella had to do with it. She wondered exactly how many jobs he had…

“He really likes you.”

Claire shook from her thoughts and stared at Sherry’s cute, curious face. “I could tell when he let you in. You look cute together!” The girl suddenly gasped, cupping her cheeks. “Your babies would be so adorable! I could be like a big sister to them! And we could play together!”

The college student almost fell over backwards from the shock of Sherry jubilating at the idea of her having any sort of physical relationship with her “uncle”, let alone having offspring together. Her stomach jerked queasily. Despite her disgust, Claire had to give Sherry props for being so easily excited. She must’ve gotten it from her equally whimsical father.

Ah, to be that innocent again. Claire weakly smiled, trying to avoid that subject with the girl. She had come to the conclusion that Wesker liking anyone was a) highly unlikely and b) not a good thing in general, even if the Birkins told her otherwise.

She decided to see what else Sherry could inform her about Wesker. “So uh, what else does he do? Besides make medicine and protect the city?”

Claire had to keep herself from rolling her eyes at such a ridiculous notion. The only thing Albert Wesker protected was himself and his own interests, no matter how many innocent people got in the way.

Sherry pursed her lips in thought. “Hmm...he does a lot of things. He does some kind of pest control, I think? Daddy said he got rid of a big rat a few days ago. Mommy says that Uncle Albert is a workaholic like they are. But I don’t know...seems like I see him more than them sometimes.”

Human pest control, sweetie. You poor thing...doesn’t sound like your parents deserve any Parent of the Year awards!

She’d like to give William and Annette a piece of her mind the next time she saw them. Sherry was so sweet and well-mannered for someone half-raised by self-absorbed parents and half-raised by a manipulative psychopath.

Odin trotted over, nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He licked Sherry’s face, making her giggle. She hugged the Doberman. “This is Odin. He’s Uncle Albert’s dog and I love him. We’re best friends!”

“Yeah...we’re well acquainted. Aren't we, boy?” Claire replied, reminded of how the dog almost tore her throat out. Sherry would never know it, but her backpack had saved Claire’s life the other day.

Odin snorted in response, but showed no signs of aggression, sitting next to Sherry and yawning.

They heard the phone click on the receiver. Sherry looked to Wesker expectantly as he returned to them. Claire remained kneeled in front of the girl, tensing as the corrupt STARS Captain came up behind her.

“Your mother is on her way, Sherry. You should go upstairs and get your things.”

Sherry frowned. “But Daddy promised he would take me this time.”

Wesker sighed. “I know he did, darling. Go on, now.”

“Yes, sir.” Sherry gave one last dispirited smile to Claire and left back upstairs. Odin followed right behind her.

Claire stood, watching the girl depart before turning to Wesker. There was a strange look in his eyes as they followed Sherry up the stairs, but Claire couldn’t read Wesker like William could, and so she was lost on what it could be.

He finally looked at her, lips quirking. “Precious, isn’t she?”

“You seriously don’t seem the type to like kids.”

“I don’t,” Wesker admitted. “But Sherry is the exception.”

Claire snorted. “Exception or not, you shouldn’t have kids let alone be a godparent to someone else’s. Not sure what William was thinking.”

Wesker softly chuckled. “I have no intentions...although,” he looked her over again with a dark, suggestive leer. “With the right partner, perhaps I would change my mind.”

It was a deliberate jab to provoke her. Claire glared at him, ignoring her heart that flailed madly in her rib cage after her stomach did a low pitch and rolled. The younger Redfield refused to take the bait, biting her tongue. She didn’t trust how her body reacted to his words at all.

“Whatever. Sherry’s way too sweet to be in the Birkins’ care or yours. She deserves better.”

“She does deserve better.”

Claire was surprised by his words, his eyes lingering on the staircase for a moment before he turned and slightly glared at her. “But life never goes how we expect it to, does it, dear heart?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

She wished her life had just stayed the same, instead of getting caught in this spider web of conspiracy, deception, and blackmail.

Wesker took her necklace into his fingers, rubbing his thumb along the silver feather pendant and turquoise stone. His eyes found hers, and he squeezed the pendant shut in his hand, tugging her towards him using the small chain. So close, Claire's hands braced his solid chest to give her a small buffer.

“And that is why I make sure I hold all the cards and have complete control over my fate. I am no longer the ruled, I am the ruler.” Wesker dipped to whisper in her ear. “And you, dear heart, will help me get even more power.”

His lips grazed her temple as he pulled back, still clenching the necklace and keeping her close. The chill that came over her was more thrilling than she wanted to admit, and according to Wesker’s dark smirk he had sensed it too. Dammit, what the hell is wrong with me?

The doorbell chimed. Claire’s heart nearly burst, relieved in the interruption because she was convinced something was about to happen. 

Sherry bounded down the stairs with a bag, the Doberman still tailing her. She paused at the bottom step, noticing Wesker and Claire’s close proximity.

“Did you get everything, darling?” Wesker asked, eyes not leaving Claire’s.

Claire was confused until she heard the soft voice and spotted Sherry coming back into the den. “Yes, Uncle Albert.”

“Good. Get your shoes on.”

Wesker stepped away from Claire, his fingers brushing her collarbone when he let her necklace go. He went to the door and answered it. Annette entered the house, looking mostly the same from when Claire saw her last, except maybe more tired. The older woman paused when she noticed Claire, surprised, but she contained it and shot a suspicious glare to Wesker’s back.

Sherry pulled on her boots after retrieving them from the foyer. She grinned at her mother. “Hi Mommy!”

Annette, distracted, looked between Wesker and Claire, and that made the college student even more uncomfortable. She then presented her daughter with a listless smile.

“Did you behave for Albert?”

“Yes, I did.”

Annette motioned to Claire with the same smile, though with added wariness. “Claire...It’s, uhh, good to see you again.”

In other words she was surprised Claire was still alive. Claire didn’t blame her, although that didn’t make the situation any less awkward. “You too, Annette. You’re daughter is very sweet.”

“Oh, right. Yes...she is.” Annette turned to her daughter just as she cinched the last strap on her boots. “Come along, Sherry. We need to go.”

Sherry got up and shouldered her bag. “All set!”

Annette looked relieved. “Good. Albert, thank you. William will stop by later, assuming he still isn’t at the estate in that ridiculous meeting. Claire...take care. Sherry, let’s go.”

The little girl frowned, glancing between her mother’s retreating back and Wesker and Claire. She sighed, trudging along behind Annette but soon paused and looked back at them.

“Bye, Uncle Albert. Bye, Claire. It was nice meeting you. I hope I get to see you again.”

That hit Claire right in the feels, and she felt torn over it. She wanted away from Wesker, the Birkins, and whatever they were a part of. She wanted her life back to normal, meaning no Sherry. But on the other hand, there was something about the young girl that Claire was drawn to. She wanted to see Sherry again also.

Claire smiled. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again real soon. Take care, Sherry.”

The girl was ecstatic at that, looking the happiest Claire had seen her yet. Annette hollered at her from the door.

“She’s a keeper, Uncle Albert!” Sherry added cheekily before joining her mother.

Claire flushed, paralyzed. Sherry giggled and hugged Odin before leaving with Annette. Once that front door shut, trapping her alone with Albert Wesker, he turned to her with a conceited and, dare she infer, sensual smirk. Her nerves turned to ice, although she suddenly felt feverish.

“I agree, Sherry. She is a keeper.”

Chris, Forest, Brad, Joseph, and Enrico walked back to the STARS office. Chris yawned. It was still early in the morning, but their day had commenced in chaos, having had two different emergencies to deal with. A freeway accident with a tipped over bus and an active shooter in southern Arklay County. None of them had even gotten their morning coffee in them yet.

“Good work, boys. Maybe we can finally take a breather,” Enrico said.

Brad rubbed his back. “Good. I need one.”

Joseph snickered. “What’s wrong, Chickenheart? Your ass still hurting where you busted it on the ice goin’ for cover?”

“Very funny, Joe.”

Forest wrapped his muscular arm around Brad’s neck and scrubbed his knuckles hard into his scalp. “Aw, we’re just fuckin’ with ya, Vickers. You did good!”

Try as he might, Brad couldn’t escape the taller, stronger Bravo member. Finally, Forest let go and dodged a swipe from Brad with a chuckle. The flustered Alpha pilot straightened his yellow vest with a glare to Forest and Joseph. Chris grabbed them both and banged their heads together.

“Knock it off, you dicks,” he said with a grin.

“Thanks, Redfield,” Enrico huffed and gave Frost and Speyer a mild glare. “You two knuckleheads have already given me a damn headache.”

They entered the STARS Office. Richard waved at them from his desk where he filled out a report on his computer.

“Aiken, anymore calls?” Enrico asked.

“No, sir. Been quiet.”

“Good.” Enrico pointed at Joseph. “Frost, go make some coffee and see if there’s anything left from the breakfast bar.”

Joseph groaned. “Why am I always the errand boy?”

“Because you get on my nerves and Wesker’s nerves, that’s why. Now go.”

“You couldn’t tell me while we were downstairs closer to the break room?”

“Nope.”

Joseph muttered under his breath and started to leave the office.

Forest hollered at him just as he sat down at his desk. “Make it extra strong, errand boy!”

Joseph flipped him off as he slipped out the door, earning him a chuckle from his Bravo friend. Brad took a seat next to Richard and Chris went to his own desk. He frowned at the empty desk beside him. Jill’s hat sat on her desk as well as a photo of her Golden Retriever, Bella. It was rare for them to have different days off, but this time of year always had Alpha and Bravo Team’s schedules mixed up.

Before he got busy and forgot again, he opened up the drawer to her desk and dropped a bag of her favorite candy inside. He closed it and signed into his computer. It was strangely quiet in the STARS office. Enrico had locked himself away in Wesker’s office and without Joseph around, the rest of them were quietly doing their work. It was strange to have Wesker, Barry, and Jill missing all in one shift. Kenneth and Edward wouldn’t be in until later.

Brad must’ve read Chris’s mind. “It feels like something’s missing…it’s too quiet.”

Forest snorted. “Course it is! We don’t have Chris and Jill yakking away behind us, no Barry laughing at his own jokes, and no Wesker scolding Frost or barking orders. Enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasts. Won’t be long before Marini gets on our asses again.”

Brad rolled his eyes. “As if you enjoy anything of the sort, Forest.”

“Chris does seem like a sad puppy without Jill around,” Richard noted.

The sharpshooter glared at them. “I’m working. What are you guys doing, exactly?”

He ignored their laughs and entered the license plate number that was on the BMW that he saw at his house yesterday. As the information pulled up, Joseph returned and announced that the coffee was brewing. Forest mumbled something about the STARS office needing to replace the coffee pot that Edward accidentally broke a couple weeks ago and left downstairs to go get some. If anyone left with Forest, Chris didn’t notice, too absorbed in the profile the license plate brought up.

Vehicle is a 1997 BMW M3…everything is up to date…Registered to William Birkin of Raccoon City, Colorado. Chris did a separate search for William Birkin in their database. Not much came up. Age 35. Married. Type O blood. Height: 5’10’’, Weight: 147lbs. Blond hair, blue eyes. Licensed under the Umbrella Corporation as a medical researcher. No records, no flags.

There was a picture on profile, looking to be a few years old, but it was definitely him. He didn’t look threatening, but something just didn’t sit right with Chris. He wondered how Claire could know this man. Surely she wasn’t seeing him romantically as he was married. Claire wasn’t like that. Maybe she didn’t know?

It might not even be like that…don’t jump to conclusions. Jill’s right…this could all be harmless. Maybe he’s just a friend.

Still…he did not like the feeling in his gut looking at the man’s seemingly innocent picture. It was hard to decide if it was his innate instincts as a cop or his overprotective devotion as a big brother. Unfortunately, Chris couldn’t do much else beside keep a closer eye on his sister and see if anything else came on his radar. Claire was still acting strange…hiding something. He was sure this man had something to do with it. Sighing, he closed the profile and got back to his other work. He remained distracted for the rest of the morning.

Before leaving for lunch, Chris had found Ralph Hendricks again and asked his neighbor and fellow brother-in-uniform to keep an eye out for anything else unusual at his house, especially if it involved that silver BMW and the man that drove it. Ralph, sensing Chris’s worry, assured him he would do what he could. That made the older Redfield feel better and drove home to enjoy some lunch with his sister.

He unlocked the door and went inside. Chris usually took his lunch with Jill, and so he was sure Claire would be surprised. The house was warm, but he didn’t see her when he came inside. The television wasn’t on, it was uncharacteristically quiet.

“Sis, you here?” When there came no answer, he hollered again with a frown. “Claire?”

He checked the house. She was gone. Trying to remain calm, Chris thought where she could have gone without the truck. He searched for a note but found none. He had to rationalize this. Maybe a friend came and picked her up...

Or maybe that guy in the BMW?

Chris paced, knowing he was overreacting. He couldn’t call his STARS teammates in to help him look for her once more, especially since last time it turned out she had been just fine. Barry was out of town with Robert, and Wesker would probably wring his neck if he called him on his day off again. He decided that calling Jill would be best. She would talk him down and help him to clear his head.

He picked up the phone with a heavy sigh. If only he could get rid of the terrible feeling in his gut. You have to quit doing this…Claire’s an adult. She’s out there living her life. And you cannot be there to protect her all the time. She knows how to take care of herself. She’s probably just out there having fun. Quit worrying!

Claire was not having fun. This was torture. The silence ate at her, the small, confined space that smelled of leather and his cologne was dizzying. Every nerve under her skin thrummed, from what she didn’t know. Demanding her to move, to escape, to fight. Or perhaps respond to a darker urge she refused to acknowledge, pushed to the farthest corner of her mind.

“You’re more restless than William, and that’s saying something.”

The college student fell out of her thoughts, not realizing she had been so fidgety in the passenger seat of Wesker’s car. His look was that of mild amusement, genuinely less snide than usual.

Claire glared at him. “Can you blame me? Stuck in a car with an evil asshole like you. What are we even doing here anyway?”

“Waiting...some of us more patiently than others.”

“For what?”

“You’ll see.”

He stared out the tinted windows, elbow resting on the side panel of his door with his chin propped on his knuckles. He had taken his sunglasses off again when they had parked here over half an hour ago, observing and waiting patiently. Apparently, this man had the patience of a saint - and Wesker having any saint-like qualities, wasn’t that the epitome of irony? 

They were in southern Raccoon, on the east side of Circular River, south of Cider District where all of Raccoon City’s schools were. It was mostly warehouses and old apartment complexes around here. It wasn’t the poorest part of town, but Wesker’s XK8 was out of place in this area, and Claire had no idea what he was waiting for.

Claire had tried to behave, be good like Ada and the Birkins suggested, but her defiance soon got the better of her being stuck in that car with him, with nothing to do but go mad. So she deliberately fidgeted and made noise, anything she thought that would get under his skin.

After a bit, certain that her antics weren’t working, the STARS Captain soon glowered her way. “If you wish to irritate me, perhaps you should take pointers from Will. But let’s be honest here, Ms. Redfield, I know you are above such petty antics. If you have something to say, then say it.”

Claire didn’t break his intimidating gaze, glaring at him in return. “Go fuck yourself.”

“Feel better?”

“I will if I get the chance to kill you.”

Wesker’s smirk knotted her stomach again. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, dear heart.”

Smug prick…

Claire leaned back against her seat, folding her arms. “Why the hell am I even here? Surely, you can ruin someone else’s life without me?”

“I can. But why do that when I have pawns...and pleasant company...like you?” He smiled wryly at her glare. “Don’t worry yourself, my dear. No one will get hurt...today.”

“How can you be like this? My brother and the STARS look up to you, respect you! The city relies on you...Sherry adores you. How can you do this to them? Do you not feel anything?”

Wesker closed his eyes for a moment but remained impassive. “You’re wasting your time trying to understand me, Ms. Redfield.”

Claire wasn’t about to let him dissuade her that easily. She had a feeling her prying would get her in trouble, but damned if trouble wasn’t her middle name. “I have nothing better to do. So...hate the world? Trying to prove something? Issues? Emotional trauma? Revenge?”

She tried to read him for any kind of reaction, even if only minuscule. Though he was probably just a psychopath and nothing more, Claire had a feeling it was more than that. His relationship with the Birkins and apparent physical attraction to her proved that. It was something much deeper. The signs were there, what little the Birkins and Wesker himself had revealed to her.

I am no longer the ruled, I am the ruler. Wesker was obsessed with power and control. Something had to have made him that way.

Unfortunately, if the corrupt STARS Captain gave any reaction to her prying, she had missed it. If only she could read him like William could...

Wesker sighed, as if he heard this all before. “Since I know you are wondering it, I had a standard childhood.”

“Oh yeah? Parents? Siblings?”

He half-rolled his eyes. “My parents died long ago. I have a sister but we were raised separately.”

Now we're getting somewhere!

“That’s not a standard childhood,” Claire stated.

He looked at her and for half a second the college student swore she could see a little into this man’s darkened soul. “You would know, wouldn’t you?”

The nerve he hit was sharp and sudden, like a knife digging underneath her fingernail. She scowled, no longer able to keep his gaze. She should’ve known he would’ve turned it right back around on her.

“Car accident, correct?”

Claire flinched, certain he would ridicule her for her loss and heartache on the subject. “Yeah.”

Say it...I dare you! Just give me a reason to pound your face in...

“I’m sorry, dear heart.”

Claire’s head snapped to gape at him so fast, she nearly gave herself whiplash. Completely taken by shock, he didn’t present her with anything further on the words she would have never thought to ever hear come out of his mouth, let alone sincerely.

“Ah, right on time,” Wesker eventually said after a long bout of silence. “You see that man crossing the street ahead?”

Claire suppressed the turmoil of thoughts swirling in her head over their recent conversation and looked. She did see someone crossing the street; a younger man, tall and skinny, wearing mostly black, baggy clothes. He looked like a typical hoodlum, covered in tattoos, a cigarette lazily poking out from his lips.

“Yeah.”

“He will get inside that parked Ford Taurus. I need for you to join him.”

“What? I don’t even know the guy!”

Sure enough, the hoodlum got into the driver side of the parked car just up ahead.

Wesker looked to her, lips twitching in amusement. “He’s expecting you, dear heart. Just say ‘not the gravy’ and he will do the rest.”

Claire gawked at him. “Not...the gravy? Are you kidding me?”

Wesker sighed. “Do I wish I was. William’s code, not mine.”

“Oh…” she mumbled. She wasn’t really surprised since it was William. Still, she wasn’t fond of the idea of sitting in the car of a total stranger with no weapon on her. Granted, she was sure she could pummel the guy easily enough, but one couldn’t be too careful.

Wesker must have sensed her unease. “The sooner you do this, the sooner we can leave. Meaning one step closer to you going home. Trust me, Claire, as long as I have you, no one will touch a hair on your head.”

Unless it’s your Russian Colonel friend, right?

The Devil might as well have been telling her to trust him. Still, there was something about his tone that did make her feel a little safer...a little. The younger Redfield slowly opened the door to the black luxury car and stepped out.

Taking a deep breath, really wishing she could have her gun or knife on her, she walked down the slushy sidewalk. A lot of the snow had melted from the sun being out for a couple of days, but more snow - and cloudy gloominess - was inbound. The dropping temps tonight would for sure turn this slush into more ice.

Reaching the car, Claire slowly pulled the handle to the passenger door and slipped inside. The interior was ragged and smelled of cigarette smoke. The guy had been sitting patiently this whole time with his hands in his pockets. He looked at her, only mild surprise coming over him and he gave her a one-over. If Claire had to guess, this seemingly normal looking hoodlum was an informant of some kind.

Claire sighed. “Not the gravy.”

The guy nodded, eyes scanning around them for a moment before he reached inside his coat and pulled out a small white envelope. He offered it to her. Claire studied it for a couple of heartbeats and then grabbed it. When she tried to pull it away, he tightened his hold on it.

“They only stayin’ for another week. If he gonna hit ‘em, he better hit ‘em fast.”

Claire swallowed. “Got it.”

The informant let the envelope go. He reached up and turned the keys to his ignition. Claire was sure that was her signal to leave and got out of the car. She barely shut the door before the sedan pulled away from the curb, loud music blaring even through the rolled up windows. Claire watched him go for only a second before turning and going back to Wesker’s car.

Once she was back inside his much nicer vehicle, shutting the door to contain the warmth from the heater, she immediately presented him the envelope. The STARS Captain took it, their fingers brushing, and Claire wasn’t sure whether he deliberately did it or not. He had already placed his sunglasses back on.

“He said they are only staying for a week and if you are going to hit them, you better do it fast.”

Wesker smirked as he opened the envelope and pulled out a folded up piece of paper. He unfolded it and read through it while Claire remained quiet, waiting.

“Hmm, interesting,” he mused. “I may get to cut the head off of more than one snake.”

Claire had no idea what he was planning or who it involved, but she knew it meant people were going to get hurt or killed. Or exploited if Wesker had his way. These “snakes” had to be problems or threats to him somehow. Or perhaps obstacles to a bigger prize. Her stomach soured just thinking about what he could do to these people, innocent or not.

All she knew was that she was sitting right next to her snake. And it was constricting around her, each new coil making it harder to breath, pulling her closer, poised to strike with venomous fangs. Claire had heard plenty of rattlesnakes growing up. She didn’t hear a rattler, but she sure felt the same cold weight of dread plummet in her stomach hearing one often produced.

[lostinfic]

5. New York, Fall

Summary: Travel writer/photojournalist AU, slow burn, mutual pining, angst, fluff and adventures around the world.

Pairing: Alec Hardy x Hannah Baxter Rating: Mature Word count: 1.6k

Prologue  |  Chap. 1  |  2  |  3  |  4  | Ao3  

Hannah was too fond of clothing and accessories to be a minimalist packer. She kept her wardrobe well organized, divided by climates and types of activities, but used creativity to select the right clothes. It was an art. One that began with a theme, a story she wanted her pictures to tell. (She’d once packed only retro-inspired clothes for a long weekend in Paris during which she visited movie-famous locations.) And since, on a cruise, hauling a heavy suitcase around wasn’t an issue, she may have gone a little overboard (pun intended) with the nautical theme: white and navy stripes, tiny anchors, big anchors, sailor collars, mermaids...

“I have nothing to wear,” she whined, dumping half her suitcase on the floor of her cabin.

The ship would dock in Manhattan soon, and she still hadn’t found the perfect outfit to go to Hardy’s photography exhibition. Something that looked irresistible yet like she hadn’t made an effort at all. Not like she worked in a theme park.

The whole thing was ridiculous anyway. Her contract with the cruise line gave her a choice among four destinations and ten dates— she could have gone to Alaska!— but she’d chosen a place she’d already visited on somewhat inconvenient dates in October, just on the off chance she might run into him. He didn’t even know she was going to be there. She couldn’t decide whether to tell him. Whether she wanted to see him again. She didn’t usually keep in touch with people she met abroad. The moments they shared were perfect as they were. Meeting again just wouldn’t be the same. Why ruin a perfectly good memory?

But Alec…

She’d said before she wanted a man who would challenge her, but parachuting or strange foods was what she had in mind, not ethical dilemmas.

At least she had a fantastic leather jacket.

The World Press Photo event took place in Brooklyn whereas the ship docked on the west side of Manhattan. It didn’t look that far on the map but, once again, she’d underestimated distances in America. Google Maps informed her it was an hour-long public transport journey to the building where the conference took place. They docked at 10am, and she had to be back on board by 4pm. What kind of cruise stays only six hours in New York but stays overnight in Nova Scotia?

She was familiar with the subway from previous visits, and seamlessly joined the crowd on the platform. She wore her headphones even if her music barely pierced the metal grinding of the old subway cars. She tapped her feet, at first to the beat of Lana Del Rey, but then out of nervousness. What would she even say to him? Oh, hi, funny meeting you here.

By the time she walked out of the subway station, her skin was clammy and smelled of rust and other people’s sweat. An autumnal breeze refreshed her and chased dead leaves around her feet.

She washed her hands and face, sprayed some perfume on her neck and shook her hair for volume. With a sigh, she blew a strand off her face.

Beside the door, a banner announced: “Alec Hardy, a retrospective”. A black and white portrait of him, with a hand tugging back his hair and an annoyed look on his face, told visitors he didn’t appreciate having the viewfinder turned on him. The lights and shadows in the picture revealed his physical flaws: the fine lines at the corners of his eyes, freckles on his cheeks and nose, even some greying hair at his temples and in his beard. She only ever used black and white to hide a too-red face or unflattering light. He didn’t hide anything, and the photo was stunning.

She read the short biography next to it. Forty-two years old, ten years older than her. She filed the information away. Everything else she knew from looking him up already.

In the high-ceilinged, white room, his photographs, in various sizes, lined the walls and hung from the ceiling to create corridors.

Hannah scanned the crowd of art students, photography enthusiasts and other conference attendees with lanyards around their necks. She didn’t see him, and couldn’t tell which of relief or disappointment swelled in her chest.

The exhibition began with Alec’s early work on the streets of Glasgow in the 90s: poverty, union strikes, and the punk scene. Domestic moments caught through dusty windows, spike-haired lovers in a park, and children playing among burning rubbish bins. She smiled at a self-portrait, his reflection in a broken mirror, an old Leica covered half his face, wire-frame glasses and smoke from a hand-rolled cigarette covered the other half.

Political protests and revolts followed. From Ireland to South Africa. He’d been right in the eye of it, among the armed men, the bleeding noses and mouths shouting for justice. In the rage and lust.

Hannah walked from one to the other, heart beating fast as if watching an action movie. How many times had he been threatened? Held at gunpoint? Kicked and punched? He really made a habit of putting himself in danger’s way. His recklessness scared her, in a good way.

His later work shifted away from the action towards the devastation left in their wake. Destroyed villages, grieving families, scarred men, empty-eyed women. More children featured in his photos. She recognized Pulau Kesuma: a pile of discarded monogrammed hotel towels among flowers, new fishing gear left to rust, an old fisherman with the sea etched on his skin. With every picture, Hannah’s heart grew heavier. By the last photo, tears threatened to ruin her mascara. And yet, something in the way he showcased sunlight gave her hope.

Hannah rounded a corner and gasped: there was a photo of her. Taken at night, darkness hid her face, but she recognized her leg kicking an arch of bioluminescent plankton. She raised her cell phone to take a picture of it and share it on social media, but changed her mind. She looked at it closer. She wasn’t used to seeing herself through someone else’s camera. An image over which she had no control. A moment of unstaged spontaneity. She wasn’t used to feeling humbled. She watched other people’s reaction to it. They didn’t know what it meant.

The picture of her was part of a special section dedicated to his more artistic work. Random snapshots he’d never dedicated an entire series to before now. Breathtaking landscapes, powerful oceans, a colorful Indian wedding, elephants in Thailand, coal-smeared Congolese children smiling bright, several photos of a baby girl. Through his lens, even the streets of London became poetic. And she thought that pain and misery did not diminish the beauty of the world, if anything, the fact that people endured and kept laughing and creating, was all the more wondrous because of it.

She went around the room a second time, always on the lookout for Hardy. She did a double-take at every brown-haired or bearded man, only to be disappointed. Before she knew it, she’d spent more time there than at the Louvre. She lingered in the building for as long as she could, visited the other exhibitions, but had to get back to the port soon. She decided to leave a message in the guest book, leaving it up to fate whether he would see it.

Outside the building, golden sunshine trickled between fiery leaves and alighted every raindrop falling across its beams. Umbrellas bloomed and children laughed, and Hannah was keenly aware that each person around her had their own story, their own unique perspective on life.

Like light shining through a prism, daily life was dissolved into millions of shades by the people experiencing it.

Hannah walked two subway stations farther, fascinated by the city thrumming with life around her.

To capture that variety, she used to write in-depth articles about encounters with one person. She’d gradually abandoned those in favor of shorter pieces for the attention-deficient social media users, and marketing disguised as personal anecdotes. Perhaps she should do that again.

She smiled at the young latina woman walking her dog, but only received a wary look in return.

This strange hyper-awareness followed her on board the cruise ship, but morphed into introspection once alone in her cabin. Seeing Hardy’s journey made her consider her own.

When asked why she started traveling, she always told the same story. She, Ben and Erin formed an inseparable trio of best friends in secondary school. They dreamed of backpacking through Europe. Once in uni, they kept postponing their plans for all sorts of reasons. Unfortunately, Erin died abruptly during their second year. Realizing how short and unpredictable life is, Hannah had packed her bags and left England.

It was a nice story, but it wasn’t the whole truth. She never said how her friend died, that she left even before the funeral, that she stayed too long in Amsterdam to numb her guilt, that there was a reason she didn’t keep in touch with the people she met while traveling.

The rocking waves failed to lull her to sleep. She nearly called Hardy twice, but her longing scared her. Her emotions felt too close to the surface, too easy to bruise.

She wrote all night and deleted the file in the morning.

They docked in Boston next. She filled a travel mug with black coffee and headed off the boat with the firm intention of being her former, professional self. She hadn’t even posted on Instagram yesterday. It really was for the best that she hadn’t encountered Hardy. They had shared a moment in Asia and that was the end of it. She had to focus on rebuilding her reputation after what happened with Elite Travelers.

Outside the cruise terminal, where buses awaited passengers for day tours, the marketing liaison waved her over. Before she’d even said hi to him, someone else called her name.

“Baxter!”

Her heart melted.

[zarinthelwrites]

Blooming from the Mud Pt. 2 (Bleach/ DGM)

Rukia throws the brick at his head.

As if that will hit me, Kanda thinks, before realizing a second too late that he is in a nine year old body, and it absolutely will.

His stomach wakes him back up. He thought it was bad before, but now it feels like the hollow caverns he grew up in, empty and echoing and painful.

“Why are you so hungry, bastard?” It's the redhead. He’s crouched down beside Kanda, as he and the girl seem to have taken him to somewhere better than the marketplace with bright green grass and a bubbling stream.

“I’ve been hungry since I got here,” says Kanda. “What do you mean, why?” Now that he thinks about it, it is strange that he’s hungry now that he’s dead. If it turns out he needs to eat souls to survive in this place, he is going to do something that the beansprout would regret. Or maybe not, considering how much Allen loves the damned.

“Since you got here?” The kids eyes widen, then narrow in annoyance. “You know you’re dead, right?”

“Renji,” scolds the girl. She has dirt on her face, deliberately smeared to hide the fact that she’s going to be beautiful. So there are scum everywhere, even in death.

“I know,” says Kanda. “I’m looking for someone who died at the same time as me.”

Pain flashes across Rukia’s face, while Renji spits in disgust.

“If they even remember you,” Rukia says, quietly. “They could be anywhere in the 320 Districts of the Rukongai. North, South, East, West-- it’s....unusual. For family members to end up anywhere near each other. A one in a million chance.”

Kanda stared at her, then closes his eyes. Of course. He should have known better.

“But you’re starving,” says Rukia. “That means you have...spiritual power. Anyone who needs to eat has power, and the more you need to eat the stronger it means you are.”

“The head of those assholes who keep encroaching on our turf-- the Rust Fang gang-- eats three meals a day then vomits it all back up,” says Renji, viciously. “That son of a bitch Inomata, walking around with a shinigami sword even though everyone knows he got it by sending the black robe into a Hollow nest.”

“So this guy has food and a sword,” says Kanda. He wants to be absolutely clear.

“Are you crazy!” Renji yells, loud enough that birds take off from a nearby tree. Yes, thinks Kanda. There are lotus blossoms in the river, and when he looks at them for too long they multiply.

“Don’t follow me,” he says instead. “You’ll just get in the way.” He knows even as he says it that it’s the wrong thing to say, that they will ignore him, because Rukia will do anything for family and Renji will do anything for Rukia, and they took him to safety and took care of him while he was unconscious, even though they shouldn’t have. Lenalee would adopt these children in a heartbeat.

If Allen were here, he would smile, and come up with some other important task that the kids could do, and then sneak away while they were distracted.

Kanda hates lying to children above all else. Maybe he even hates it more than he hates the Black Order.

“I can’t protect you,” he says instead, because these children are old enough to make their own choices. What are they? 10? Older than him, or Lenalee, or Timothy. And there’s no such thing as too young to die. Or die again, as it is.

“We know where Inomata’s hideout is,” says Renji. He bares his little baby teeth. “We’re the only ones who can take you there.” He’s still bargaining. He should leave the bargaining to Rukia. She knows better.

“Okay,” says Kanda. “Lead the way.”

The way appears to be through a lot of back alleys that eventually open up to reveal a building guarded by two men wielding rusted knives and a smell so awful that Kanda seriously considers if it's an intentional secondary weapon. Neither Renji nor Rukia do more than wrinkle their noses at it, though, so maybe it’s just him who hasn’t acclimated to the Howling Dog District. Kanda takes a deep breath, and then immediately regrets it. Now it feels like his tongue is covered in rotting garbage. He’s been bathed in blood and felt more clean than this.

Having learned from previous mistakes caused by arrogance, Kanda approaches the two men with his hands behind his back, doing his best to seem harmless. As he has zero experience with this, he assumes that he comes across as more dead eyed and indifferent than anything. But he’d been underestimated a lot, when he’d looked this age before. Every Akuma in entire cities would seek him out, seeing the child in the uniform and mistaking him for prey. Understandable, as that was also what Kanda saw when he looked back at them. He’d killed a lot of Akuma dressed in mother’s skins, those first few months outside.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing out here?” One of the guards laughs. “Got lost on the way to the whorehouse, girlie? Or your mama waiting til you’re older, so she can get a better price?”

It’s been awhile since Kanda has been mistaken for a girl. It happened less as he failed to age gracefully, and the frown lines radiated out from his eyes in a cross pattern with his cursed tattoo.

“Leave her alone, Yoshiaki,” says the other one. “You know what the boss thinks about leaving the gate when you’re on duty.” He drags a finger across his throat, makes a gagging sound.

“Nobody needs to know, Niou,” Yoshiaki says, lazily beckoning Kanda to come closer. “Isn’t that right?”

“No,” says Kanda, and throws a brick at his head. The piece of shit staggers and falls, bleeding heavily from his temple. The second one opens his mouth to sound the alarm and Kanda kicks him in the crotch, hard enough that he hears something pop. The almost yell turns into a quiet, horrified gasp for air. That one might live, but Yoshiaki is never getting back up again.

Kanda continues past them into the main building. It’s mid morning, and Kanda has been assured that most of the men of the Rust Fang gang will be too busy trying to sleep off their hangovers or general sickness to do anything but groan in his direction. Kanda bypasses them for now, resolving to figure out if it’s worth killing them once he actually has a sword to help him do the job.

The last room of the hideout is so utterly strange that Kanda has to stop for a minute in order to convince himself that the entire thing is more than just him seeing things. Inside the room, the light comes from unstably burning candles that flared and guttered at random intervals. The sleeping gang boss keeps two dogs chained to the wall on opposite sides of the room, both wearing animal skulls carved to resemble the not-Akuma masks along with polluted, spiked collars. The one closest to Kanda is awake and watching him, but has made no sound to alert his master of the threat. Its skull mask is actually a huge fish head that bobbles over the dog's mouth in a way reminiscent of a muzzle. The other dog has one ridged like a lizard. Inomata himself sleeps in the center of the room on a mound of fur, mouth open as he snores. The sword lies in easy reach of his hands, should he be suddenly thrust from his sprawling slumber. At least he is alone in the bed.

Stealth has never been a strong point of Kanda’s, so the fact that he’s gotten this far without having to deal with anyone other than the outer guardsmen is so much better than how he thought this whole thing would go that he doesn’t really have a plan for how to get the sword without fighting the man, the dogs, and the entire organization for it. 

Kanda shrugs, dismissing the issue. Whatever. As long as he has the sword, he doesn’t care if he does end up fighting the whole organization for it.

He’s been barefoot ever since he got to this afterworld, so he doesn’t need to change anything in order to make himself as quiet as possible.

The dog huffs a bit as Kanda draws close to him, so Kanda stops to pet him. On one hand, he regrets this because the dog’s fur is matted with black blood and fish guts. On the other hand, he’s going to make Inomata regret it even more. He crawls over to where Inomata is sleeping, carefully staying below the bed’s line of sight until he can reach up and grab the sword. He feels a short second of

Resistance. Who?

But it's nothing to him. The sword trembles ever so slightly in his hands, reflecting the dim light of the tallow candles that line the room and add to the giant stink. He kills Inomata quickly.

The dogs are both up now, pacing and tugging at the end of their chain leashes. Fishbone is still silent, still watching him. Lizard is growling deep in his throat. Kanda looks next to him, where she is laughing at him, calloused hand reaching up to hide her mouth and petticoats aflutter.

Allen always thought that it was how Kanda was made that sentenced him to a life of ruin. Kanda knows that’s just Allen projecting. Dying, chaining himself to the Order, Falling-- he doesn’t need other people to damn him.

He breaks Fishbone’s chain first, then Lizard. The sword works better than it should, cutting through the wrought iron with only a couple of chops. He’s expecting the dogs to attack him, to howl and wake the base so he can fight his way out properly. Instead, one of them sticks its cold, slimy nose into the section between his throat and his collarbone, and he’s the one that shrieks louder than Komui at three in the morning.

He’s going to skin these dogs alive and then use their coats as laundry rags. Lizard opens up its jaws and lets its long, gross tongue loll out of its mouth. It’s laughing at him, Kanda knows. He hadn’t realized that dogs could be used to so expertly stand in for that dumb rabbit.

“Where is the food kept?” Kanda asks the dogs, not having any high expectations. But maybe they're better at standing in for Lavi than he thought, as they both immediately start trotting towards a door hidden in a cluttered corner of the room. At first glance it looks rusted shut, but when Kanda kicks the door it creaks open to show pantry full of fermenting alcohol and food just on the edge of rotting.

Kanda gives the alcohol a dark scowl. Chasing Allen through the red light districts of  Eastern Europe while nursing a throbbing hangover had managed to slip right into the cracks of his nightmares to the point where he point blank refused to touch the substance anymore. But he can’t ignore his hunger any longer, and he goes through the stale, spoiled food so fast that beansprout would be jealous.

He is still hungry, when he pauses. But it is ignorable.

The dogs have eaten their fill behind him, gobbling up dropped crusts of bread, bones of meat, fish heads and tails and other less pleasant things that cover the ground. Some of them are things that dogs probably shouldn’t eat, but Kanda makes no moves to stop them. There is nothing living in this strange world beyond. He can taste the food as he eats it and it tastes like the air and the dust and his blood-- it tastes of when he drank down his Innocence and chained his fate to Allen.

What are Akuma made of? Death, tragedy, machine.

What is he made of? Death, tragedy, persistence. Regret.

It will have to do.

A/N: all of yall waiting for allen to show up: i apologize, i’ve got some of this planned out and he probably wont show up for at least 15 chapters, if i get that far. i will b explaining what happens to not japanese souls at one point tho. sooner or later.