#leaving me a comment on AO3 is a surefire way to become one of my favourite people

[waytooinvested]

Forgotten, Not Forgiven - Chapter 12

This and previous chapters are also on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘Ms Luthor, I have a Nia Nal here asking to see you. Shall I make her an appointment for tomorrow?’

‘That’s alright Jess, please send her straight through.’

Lena put aside the copy of ‘The Interpretation of Dreams’ she had been skimming through with a certain amount of relief. Even before she’d opened the book she had been aware that Freud was the wrong place to begin her dream studies, but it had also been the only even vaguely relevant text she could find at the only bookshop within walking distance from L-Corp, and since her computer was midway through an “out of hours” update that had been stalled on 3% complete for the past 45 minutes, it had been her only option if she wanted to get stuck into research without waiting for her online orders to arrive.

The office door cracked open, and Nia peered round it.

‘Hey Lena, sorry for dropping in unannounced like this, I thought you’d be finishing for the day. Are you busy?’

‘Not at all, come in, please, have a seat. Is everything alright? I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.’

‘I know, I was just passing on my way home and thought I’d come in and give you a quick update.’

‘Oh? Do you have a plan for how you’d like to work Kara’s dream session? I started some research of my own today to get a feel for dream work, but-’

She gestured at the book on her desk with a grimace.

‘-it isn’t going very well so far.’

‘You’re reading Freud? Lena I can promise you that that is not what dream-power interpretation is about.’

Lena chuckled ruefully. ‘I was beginning to suspect as much. Oh well, at least I can read something more worthwhile now. Anyway, sorry. What was your update? Is everything alright?’

‘Yes, totally fine. Well, I think so anyway... I told Kara I’m Dreamer today.’

Nia’s tone was despondent in spite of her mostly positive words, and Lena sat up straight, the remains of her Freud-induced stupor instantly dispelled.

‘Something went wrong. Did Kara display neurological symptoms? Headache, nose bleed, uneven pupil dilation?’

‘No, no it was nothing like that, sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. I don’t think it was a Supergirl issue at all. It’s probably fine and I’m just making a big deal over nothing, but she just… seemed a little freaked out. Well. She hugged me and said she was really happy for me and glad that I told her, but she was kind of quiet after that, and she left not long after. And… she left most of her doughnut.’

Lena bit her lip, trying to recall if she had ever seen Kara leave a doughnut before, and drawing a blank.

‘I see what you mean, that doesn’t sound like Kara. Have you talked to Alex? Maybe she just needs a bit of support to come to terms with the whole superhero thing. After all without her own Kryptonian identity we can’t be sure how much she is really aware of aliens and powers, beyond the obvious. From what I’ve observed it seems like all of that side of her reality is being filtered through the context of Alex’s job more than her own experience at the moment.’

‘Well, that’s actually why I came to see you. I thought you’d know what to do for the best.’

Because you’ve been on the other side of this.

Because you lashed out.

Because I want to know how to make sure that Kara doesn’t end up like you .

Nia didn’t say any of it, but the implication was there, just below the surface of her innocuous statement. It was unexpected, and Lena felt the brief, uncomfortable swoop in her stomach of missing a step going down. At another time, or with another person, she might have said something cutting or dismissive to regain the upper hand in the conversation and hide her fluster, but she couldn’t do that to Nia.

Not about her own coming out.

Instead she picked a fountain pen from her pen pot and rolled it between her fingers as she considered what to say, seeking the soothing familiarity of its cool, smooth weight in her hand as much as the excuse not to make eye contact.

‘I don’t think you need to worry about Kara reacting the way I did, even if she isn’t entirely comfortable right now. The two situations are very different, and in any case, Kara doesn’t exactly have the Luthor temperament.’

She thought she had done a good job of keeping her tone neutral and her response measured, but rather than looking reassured Nia smacked a hand to the side of her forehead in a gesture that was simultaneously comical and self-admonishing.

‘I just totally put my foot in my mouth didn’t I? I’m sorry, at this point I think it basically lives in there, but I honestly wasn’t even thinking about that. I just thought that since you’re her best friend, you’d be the person Kara would most want to talk to right now.’

‘Oh.’

That possibility had never even occurred to Lena, and now that it had she felt flustered in an altogether different way.

‘Do you really think so?’

‘Of course! Kara has been so much happier since the two of you started spending time together again. She’s even getting along better with Andrea now, and she talks about you and all the funny clever things you said last time she saw you pretty much constantly. It’s actually kind of adorable.’

Nia’s cheeks went a bit pink then, and she squirmed in her seat like she had said more than she meant to.

‘Uhhh, maybe don’t tell Kara I told you that. I don’t want to embarrass her.’

Interesting. If Lena didn’t know better she would think- but it wouldn’t matter anyway. It’s not like she would have been able to do anything about it. Not now.

‘Look, Nia, I really would like to help, but I just don’t think it’s a good idea. My friendship with Kara can only ever be temporary, so it wouldn’t be fair to push the boundaries too far. Besides, how can I go and reassure Kara about her reaction to you when I can’t forgive her for doing more or less the same thing to me? Even if it was much worse in our case.’

Nia tilted her head to one side, as if she didn’t quite catch Lena’s meaning and was checking whether a new angle might make it fit better with her perception of reality.

‘Why?’

‘Why is it worse?’

‘No, why can’t you forgive her? I get that there’s a lot of history between you and I don’t know the finer details of everything Kara did to hurt you. Maybe some of it really doesn’t deserve to be just forgiven, and that’s fair enough if it’s really how you feel. But from everything I’ve seen, you want her back in your life as much as she wants you in hers. You want to forgive her. So why won’t you? Who is it really serving to force yourself to stay mad when you could just… stop? Let yourself be her friend again. Be all of our friends again. Just come back.’

Just come back.

As if she had merely walked out early on a night out, and could choose to turn around and go back to the bar any time she liked, to be welcomed in from the cold with hugs and warmth and an easy acceptance that she wasn’t sure she entirely deserved.

‘It’s not that simple.’

It can’t be... Can it?

‘Sure it is. If you want it to be. Lena… you do know that we want you back, don’t you? Not just Kara. All of us do.’

Lena opened her mouth to respond, and then closed it again. Because no, she didn’t know that. She knew that, with the exception of their latest meeting, they had all been getting along well, and that she had enjoyed the time she had been spending at the DEO far more than she expected to, but she hadn’t allowed herself to think beyond that.

Now she did.

She thought about it, and what came first, as always, was the flash of anger and sting of hurt humiliation that echoed what she had felt on first finding out how much of an outsider she truly was among her supposed friends. She had believed they were all on even footing, only to discover that every single one of them had been part of a circle of trust that did not include her, and that when push came to shove, they were perfectly happy to drop her from their lives the moment she walked away from Kara (because they were her friends, first and foremost, and Lena had been allowed to tag along only because Kara had wanted her there, not for her own sake).

That came first.

But this time, it didn’t stop there.

Because things between them had been different since Atlantis.

With Alex first, who had been the most unsympathetic when she first cut Kara out, and yet had also been the one to reach out to her after the kidnapping, and to keep on reaching out, even when Lena had snarled at her and tried to push her away. Alex had accepted her anger, and apologised, and somehow turned it into something less like hatred and more like catharsis. From there the others had followed easily in her wake. None of them had treated Lena the way she had expected them to (with reproach or recrimination, even suspicion that she really had had something to do with Kara’s condition), and without Kara beside her to be the focal point of Lena’s attention she had been getting to know all of them properly in their own rights, and found that she liked them.

Now she was giving space to the idea, she had to admit that they seemed to like her too, and not just for what she could do for Atlantis or the DEO, or as a tacked on extension of Kara. It had been starting to feel like she was really one of them…

Only then Kara had been hurt and she had let her guard down too far. She had exposed a raw, volatile part of herself that they had not been meant to see, even implying to her girlfriend’s face that Kelly's life mattered less than Kara’s. The memory made her wince (not least because although she really, genuinely liked Kelly and knew that the suggestion had been neither reasonable nor fair... she had meant it. She still meant it), and she couldn’t help worrying that the lapse had knocked them right back to square one.

‘Even if that was true before, I’m not sure it still can be after the other night.’

‘What, because of the Atlantis meeting?’

Nia sounded confused, as if she really wasn’t sure what Lena meant by ‘the other night’, and Lena nodded without looking up from the pen she was now holding too tightly in her fist.

‘Lena, that was nothing, you were just sticking up for Kara, we all knew that.’

‘I don’t think J’onn would see it that way. Or Alex.’

‘Pfft, J’onn’s like 300 years old and used to be Alex’s boss, he can take a bit of snark. And Alex actually told me after you left that she was glad you were there, because she had to speak for the DEO and National City as well but you were just 100% there to advocate for your friend, even if you did go a bit “hangry Kara with eyes on the last potsticker” about it. That’s in her words by the way, not mine.’

She couldn’t help it. A slightly guilty laugh bubbled out of her at the hangry Kara comment (that sounded like Alex alright), and it diffused the tension enough that Lena looked up at last, finding nothing but frank openness and conspiratorial amusement in Nia’s returning expression. Her grip on the pen eased along with her anxiety, and she let herself accept that maybe she had been making the whole thing much bigger in her mind than it had been in reality.

Still though…

‘I am sorry you know, for getting so confrontational about it. I think I may have skipped a few steps on the negotiation spectrum and let myself forget that I wasn’t in a room full of Luthors, and no one else there wanted Kara hurt either.’

'Yeah but it was about Kara, and she’s your- well, she inspires strong feelings in people who care about her. And it’s not like you’re the only one who lashes out sometimes, we’ve all done it at some point. You calling J’onn a fucking idiot doesn’t mean we don’t like you anymore.’

‘I did not call J’onn a fucking idiot!’

‘Oh really? Huh maybe that part just happened in my head, which is kind of a shame because it was honestly hilarious, I was ready to grab popcorn.’

‘Nia Nal!’

Nia laughed, mischief written all across her face until she noticed that Lena wasn’t joining in, then she turned sombre again.

‘Okay, but seriously. Even if you had said that, it wouldn’t mean we would kick you out the group. That’s not how friendship works.’

Isn’t it?

That had always been more or less exactly how it worked, for Lena. Maybe not over one simple argument or a heat-of-the-moment insult, but there was nothing simple about their broader situation, and her whole life had taught her that to give second chances was to invite nothing but further betrayal, manipulation, and, on more occasions than she cared to dwell on, assassination attempts. She had learned at her mother’s knee to be unforgiving and unforgivable, and for the most part she had been right (look what happened when she tried to give anyone in her family the benefit of the doubt).

But now she was being told that she wasn’t unforgivable after all, and she couldn’t help dwelling on Nia’s question of who does it serve to force yourself to stay mad? Because it wasn’t serving Lena. It was making her miserable, and lonely, and unlike all the times she had known that withholding her forgiveness was the right thing, this time the moral high ground she was standing on was becoming increasingly shaky underfoot, because this group wasn’t embroiled in some evil plot to wipe out aliens or turn the sun red. They weren’t ruthlessly ambitious business tycoons or social climbers out to wring what they could from her. Whatever else they might be, Lena truly believed that they were good people. Messy, complicated, caught up in their own baggage as much as Lena was in hers and capable of doing things that were intensely hurtful, but at their centres… good.

She still didn’t think Nia was right about forgiveness.

Not entirely.

But… maybe she wasn’t entirely wrong either.

She rubbed her temples with the fingers of one hand, unsuccessfully trying to press the conflicting instincts inside her into a single coherent train of thought.

‘You’re far too young to be full of all this sage advice, you know.’

Nia pulled a silly face that both lightened the mood and slightly undermined the compliment by making her look practically Ruby’s age, and anything but sage.

‘You are really not that much older than me.’

Lena smiled a small but genuine smile, feeling crinkles that would one day be crows feet appear around her eyes.

‘Aren’t I? I feel ancient. I found a grey hair last week.’

This earned her a snort and an eye roll, and her smile grew an extra quarter inch.

‘Maybe that’s because you never freakin’ sleep. You’re probably about 50 in awake years, but that’s not the same as being actually old.’

‘Hey, I sleep!’

Only about four hours a night at the moment, and not always consecutively, but Nia didn’t need to know that.

‘Uh huh. So how come that time I was awake for 46 hours straight during the whole Midnight debacle, you were in the DEO lab every time I went by. I drank like 6 cans of Monster the second night and was going loopy, but you were just in there doing your science like it was totally normal.’

Lena remembered the occasion Nia was talking about only too well, and wrinkled her nose in rueful acknowledgement. She had hit a snag with the Q-wave generator and had refused to budge until she solved it, even though it had meant rearranging several meetings and going an ill-advised amount of time without sleeping, eating or showering. In the end she had only conceded her need to rest after Brainy had told her very seriously her that exhaustion was making her behave like a fifth level intellect, and if she didn’t get some sleep soon she would be no better than the average Daxamite (she maintained that a desire to beat her former-rival-for-Kara’s-affections Mon-el in every conceivable measure had nothing to do with the decision, and she had merely been concerned about making mistakes).

‘This seems like a bit of a pot/kettle situation given that you just readily admitted to staying awake for 46 hours straight yourself. And if you think I was unaffected you clearly didn’t see how much espresso I got through, or hear me talking to my screwdriver, apparently. I gave it a lecture for not being the Philips head I was looking for.’

Nia laughed delightedly. ‘See, this is why we need you back in the group for real, you’re the only one whose sleep pattern is as messed up as mine is. Just think of all the 3am shenanigans we could be having.’

‘Nia, I…’

She wanted to say yes.

She wanted to, but the word stuck in her throat, and she couldn’t bring herself to step over that edge.

‘No, I know, I’m sorry. I’m pushing you and you’re not ready. I’ll drop it for now. Just… think about it, okay? And in the meantime, do you want me to call Alex to go and see Kara?’

‘No.’

Somehow the no was easier. Too easy, because for all her complicated feelings about the rest of the group, Kara was the one who had actually betrayed her trust, and should therefore be the person Lena was least willing to break her established boundaries for. And yet she had answered Nia’s question instinctively, the word slipping out without waiting for her to think through the implications of the choice.

But it was the logical solution, wasn’t it? Someone needed to talk Kara round so that she would be comfortable doing dream-work with Nia, and Alex was so busy at the DEO it might be a while before she could spare the time to visit her sister. Besides, it would be a way to contribute to Project Atlantis now she was no longer working on the Q-waves. It didn’t mean she was committing to anything more than that.

And... as much as she told herself it wasn’t relevant, she couldn’t help dwelling on the part where Kara talked about her when she wasn’t around, and seemed happier for the time they spent together, and where Lena was the person Kara would most want to talk to when she was upset.

Then there was t he part where she could have died , and Lena had felt in that moment what it would be like to truly, irrevocably lose her, and the horror of it still reverberated through every cell of her body like a struck cymbal that would not be ignored .

She shook her head and repeated in a more measured tone ‘No, I’ll go. Thank you, Nia.’

Nia beamed back at her as though Lena’s decision about Kara and the rest of them was already made, and got up to leave.

‘You’re welcome. See you at the Atlantis meeting on Monday?’

‘See you then.’

Lena waited until Nia had gone, then buzzed through to the outer office before she had time to think better of it.

‘Jess, I know I said I’d be in until late tonight, but would you mind letting the lab team know I’ll have to stop by tomorrow instead? I have somewhere I need to be right now.’

‘Of course Ms Luthor. Would you like me to call you a car?’

‘Yes please. And if you could arrange for them to pick up a box of doughnuts en route, I would appreciate it. Anything that has an obscene amount of chocolate and more sprinkles than could reasonably expected to fit on them should suffice.’

‘Right away Ms Luthor.’

[valmerappreciationhours]

Room 313

Clenny Week Day 4--omg they were roommates

(read on ao3 here)

Clyde Donovan has been looking forward to meeting his college roommate for months. Unfortunately for him, Kenny McCormick isn't quite what he was expecting.

“You smell that? That’s the smell of new beginnings, my compatriots.”

               “Bold to say for s-someone who peaked in hh—hu—high school.”

               “Smells like manure and sweat.”

               Clyde stopped in his trek to turn and glare at his companions, varsity jacket-clad arms crossed. His height certainly wasn’t accomplishing any wonders in terms of intimidation. “You’re just grumpy since your boyfriend didn’t come with us.”

               Craig’s mouth remained set in a straight line, but a small crease formed between his brows. “I’m simply stating facts. And you didn’t say anything about Jimmy’s comment.”

               “Jimmy’s comment was funny.”

               “I aim to please.”

               As the group continued their teasing, a cold autumn breeze picked up, whisking a few leaves past the party. The spare bits of concrete that were visible under throngs of students were littered with empty chip bags and discarded cigarettes. Booths advertising various clubs and events were scattered throughout the square, with a couple of plain buildings filling the space beyond. The clatter of voices and the rustling of bodies generated a cacophony that was a chore to speak over, but the three had plenty of practice.

               “Who has the map? I’m r-ready to get out of this.” Jimmy had cut over to an empty area by a trash can and quickly readjusted his crutches.

               “I second that.” Craig swiftly unfolded the campus map from his jacket pocket. “We’re going to my residence hall first. Token’s waiting with Stripe in the car and I need to get her set up.”

               “Aw, Craig!” Clyde whined but sped up to keep up with the long strides. “You mean they’re not close?”

               “Did you not look at any of your papers?”

               The silence from Clyde was deafening.

               Jimmy laughed. “Nice to know Clyde’s still the same old guy ev-even at a b-b-bi- a big university.” It was not a big university. It may quality as big by some standards, or a university by others, but the community college was far from any Ivy League school. The minimal requirements and low fees were what made the school attractive more than anything else.

               “But I’ll be so quick! I just wanna meet my roommate and then I’ll be right back to help set up! I’ve been waiting forever for this.” Clyde’s excitement and fierce determination sparkled in his brown eyes, and Craig sighed.

               “Do you need the map?”

               “He needs the map,” Jimmy confirmed.

 Clyde raced across campus, dodging other new students and luggage. His backpack thumped uncomfortably against his back, but it was no match for the exhilaration of discovering who he was going to be rooming with. Hopefully someone cool who also loved football and parties! Maybe even a science nerd like Craig, who would be down with making miniature explosions in their dorm. Clyde nearly toppled two boys hefting a crate, and made hasty apology as he scrambled up the stairs. Third floor, room 310, 311, 312, yes, 313! The door was cracked, and Clyde thrust it open to finally reveal…

               An empty room.

               Wait, no, there was a ratty brown backpack on the floor. Clyde glanced around, searching for something, anything more. He couldn’t have run here just to beat seeing his roommate.

               The bunkbeds lacked any personal items, there were no posters, no pets. The beige walls and gray rug stared back, empty and unyielding. The desk, aside from coffee stains and indentations, bore no mark of human life. Clyde stood for a moment more, hoping for something before he left to go help his friends set up.

               His saving grace was an incomprehensible muffle from behind him.

               Clyde whipped around fast enough to produce a neck injury, and was met with an individual ingulfed by an orange coat covered in patches. His jeans were completely torn at the knees, showing off scrapes and bruises underneath. His shoes were unidentifiable simply by the sheer amount of duct tape holding them together. He stared, and the other stared back, blue eyes unblinking. Eventually the muffle sounded again, but now that Clyde was paying attention it sounded much more like “do you live here?”

               “Yeah, I live here.” Clyde flashed a smile, leaning against the doorframe. A surefire way to make a good impression, and if this orange blob was his roommate, he wanted to look like the coolest dude on the face of the Earth.

               The boy under the coat stuck out a hand, showing off fingerless gloves. Clyde took it, wondering if the gloves were a sign his roommate was chill or if he was a former homeless person. At any rate, his hands were clammy anyway.

               “Kenneth McCormick,” he introduced through a thick layer of fabric. “You want top or bottom?”

               Clyde let his hand keep shaking, but his cheeks reddened. “Clyde Donovan, and, uh, that’s pretty straightforward.”

               Kenneth put his hands back in the pockets of the orange monstrosity. “Well, we gotta figure it out before bed.”

               Oh, geez, that was straightforward! “Hey, man, you seem alright and all, and I’m sure you’re attractive under that hood, but…”

               One could practically see the pieces fit their way together in Kenneth’s mind, and his eyebrows shot up. He took a hand and pointed behind Clyde, who turned to see the bunk beds. Well, what did that have to do with---ohh. Oh.

               Clyde turned back in horror, cheeks surely flaming. His roommate’s eyes crinkled at the corners, alive with mirth. “Uh, why don’t you have first pick? My treat.” He quickly started moving around to the exit. “I actually gotta go help my friend set up, so, I’ll see you later, I guess.” Once out, Clyde forced a casual stroll down the hall until he couldn’t see his room anymore, then bolted.

               He was going to run to Craig’s room, and he was not going to cry all over his friends because he totally bombed his first impression. Jimmy would tell a joke and make everything better, and somehow Token would provide a solution that would make perfect sense and Clyde would wonder how he hadn’t thought of it. Yeah, it would work out. Just the thought of his friends lessened the burn in his face. It would probably be brushed off and forgotten by the time he returned.

               Kenneth McCormick had not forgotten. Clyde was sure of this when he headed back to the room, backpack and bags in tow, and his roommate leaned down from the top bunk. Instantly, those blue eyes crinkled. “I chose top,” he said through the coat, and Clyde wanted to scream.

                 “I’m doomed,” Clyde said into his mug.

               “You’re doomed,” Craig agreed, not batting an eye.

               “What is it this time?” Token didn’t look up from his place on the tablet screen. He may be miles away at a fancy university, but he wasn’t getting out of Those Guys hangouts that easily.

               Clyde laid his head on the wood grain of the coffee shop table. “My roommate.”

               “Shame.” Craig blew on the steam billowing off his mug. “My roommate is the coolest person in the world.”

               “I don’t m-mmm-mind my roommate either,” Jimmy added. “What’s the issue with yu-yours?”

               “The worst first impression in the world,” Clyde groaned, wallowing in misery. “And he’s never there so now the only thing he thinks of me is that I think about gay sex.”

               “So, he’s p-pretty much got it.”

               Craig snorted into his tea and even Token howled with laughter through the speaker, Jimmy beaming with pride. Clyde huffed, and Jimmy reached out to poke his cheek.

               “Hey, it’s n-n-not a big deal. Do you really wanna be bent on the op-o-opinn-opinion of someone whose name is Kenneth? Th-that’s a nerd name, Clyde.”

               That was it. The gamechanger. Clyde’s head snapped up. “You’re right! That is a nerd name!” Finally, it felt like things were starting to come together again, when Clyde’s face fell. “Oh no. I already gave him a nickname.” There went that sacred sliver of hope.

               “I thought you didn’t talk to him,” Token pointed out.

               Clyde leaned onto his hand. “I said he’s never there. We’ve talked and stuff.”

               “H-how cool was the nickname, th-though?”

               “I just shortened it to Kenny! I thought, hey, I don’t wanna be saying this long fancy name all the time!”

               “You gave him a nickname!” a new voice yelped, causing three of the four boys to jolt. “Oh god, you’re in it now, Clyde!” Tweek hovered above the table, a full coffee pot in one hand, a navy-blue teapot in the other. Despite the shouting and nervous energy radiating off of him, not a drop of liquid found its way onto the table or anyone’s clothes. After years, Tweek was bound to become an expert on handling drinks simultaneous to freaking out.

               On the screen, Token bowed his head solemnly. “The Tweek has spoken. You can’t come back from this.” Craig nodded as Tweek refilled the cups around the table.

               “C-come on, guys!" Jimmy tried, ever an optimist. “Clyde may have st-st-started out on his dumber foot—”

               “I’m gonna let you continue since you’re defending me.”

               “—b-but he can ssstill pull through!” Jimmy reached out to grab Clyde’s round cheeks. “Who could say no to this ch-charming face!”

               “Gah!”

               “Anyone with sense.”

               “Literally everyone I can think of.”

               “Hm.” Jimmy pulled his hands back and poured more sugar into his mug. “I’ve worked with w-worse audiences.”

               “So, you still have faith in me?” Clyde looked to his friend, brown eyes large and vulnerable. He was a drowning voyager, fighting for his life in the open sea, and Jimmy, his good friend Jimmy, was right there with a lifeboat.

               Jimmy averted his eyes and loudly sipped his coffee. Fake-Clyde was left to die in the cold water.

               The next time Clyde truly interacted with his roommate, it was just past two in the morning on a Saturday. The unlocking of the door roused him from a light sleep, in which he was doing a great job at crumpling his textbook pages. Clyde quickly shut the book and looked over to the other boy, expecting to find him drunk or maybe high. What Clyde did not expect was to see Kenny sporting an apron and black slacks, a to-go cup and battered paper in one hand. A scarf wrapped around his face, effectively blocking out wind, as well as Clyde from getting a look at his face.

When Kenny noticed that Clyde was awake, he lit up and quickly closed the distance, shutting the door with his hip. “Hey man, check this out.” Clyde was barely awake, mind still muddled from sleep, but his brain worked hard enough to understand the colorful paper Kenny sat in front of him. “Are you going?”

Clyde rubbed his eye, works still sticking to form. “Sure, I love a good party. Didn’t think you were a party guy.”

Kenny laughed, muffled. “That hurts, man. Why not?”

Clyde yawned, leaning back down to his homework. His words slurred with sleep. “You gotta name like Kenneth. Dassa nerd name.”

He vaguely registered the creak of the bunk as Kenny climbed up. “Hey, you gave me a nickname all on your own. That’s admitting that I’m cooler than my birth name.” The flop of fabric against mattress. “Go to that party with me, I’ll show you how cool I can be.”

Clyde mumbled into his book. “Bet.” If Kenny was still talking, he didn’t tune in, too busy getting drool all over his homework.

                 The closer time got to the awaited party, the more Clyde started hearing about it around campus. It became a hot topic in the halls and overtook class whisperings; what people were gonna wear, who they were going with, how crazy it was bound to be. Clyde was feeling like hot stuff for having already known about it (even if he needed the sight of the flyer to remind him), and all the buzz only made him more excited. This would mark his first real, off-the-chain college party. Quite possibly more important than first steps, if you asked him.

               Clyde’s pile of homework sat untouched on his bunk. Not today; there were more important things, like the crisp varsity jacket laying on the chair and money on the desk for a dinner of tacos before. He was working on the knots of his sneakers when the door banged open.

               “I’m just saying, laser eyes would just be a hazard to itself.” A boy with black hair followed Kenny into the room, still wrapped up in conversation. Clyde may have known next to nothing about the topic, but it sounded like a good one.

               Kenny swung around to face Clyde. “Hey, dude, this is Stan. He’s gonna be going with us since his one true super best friend left him for a fancy school.”

               “And there was no way I was going with Cartman.” Stan’s eyes were intense, practically radiating revulsion toward the Cartman fellow.

               “And there was no way he was going with Cartman,” Kenny agreed, nodding. While he set to work on his parka zippers, Clyde grinned over at the newcomer.

               “The more the merrier, man!”

               “I’m also bringing alcohol,” Stan mentioned, holding up the twelve pack he carried.

               Clyde glanced at the label and humbly dropped to a knee. “The good stuff! You’re a savior, Stan-the-man.”

               “Don’t bother,” Kenny’s muffle advised, “his heart already belongs to a faraway prince.” Clyde turned to respond, but was shocked by lack of the raggedy orange parka. Instead, Kenny was decked out in a marginally better-looking hoodie and a skirt over leggings. That was a surprise, but Clyde couldn’t say it didn’t look great on Kenny. Unfortunately, a surgeon’s mask successfully continued to hide his face, and Clyde couldn’t help from groaning.

               “Am I ever gonna see your face?”

               Kenny strode over and patted Clyde’s back. “I’m too cute; it’s for the good of humanity that I contain it.”

               “He gets sick easy,” Stan supplied from Kenny’s other side. Kenny punched him in the arm, and he glared back. “Dinner, first, right?”

               “Yeah!” Clyde punched a fist in the air. “Ya boy wants tacos!”

                 It was beautiful. So beautiful.

               Music thumped and blared out of the house, alight with strobes and the glowing cherries of cigarettes. People spilled out onto the street, most with drinks in hand. The only ones that looked like they weren’t having a good time were sitting against the side of the house, puffing on cigarette smoke. Clyde thought they looked just a bit menacing in all black with dark stares, but Kenny strode right up and held out a fist to the lone girl.

               “’Ey, Henri!” She huffed and bumped the offered fist. “Glad you could make it!”

               “Whatever.” She took another drag. “We’re just at this conformist party to prove a point that all this is still meaningless and doesn’t drive off the darkness.”

               Clyde grimaced. Geez, these guys hit heavy. Kenny just looked infinitely brighter next to them, with his vibrant orange hoodie and blond hair.

               To Clyde’s surprise, Kenny was agreeing with her. “I hear that,” he said, muffled, “but there’s nothing wrong with postponing inevitable darkness a while. Save me a smoke later?”

               If Clyde wasn’t mistaken, he just saw the girl’s black lips twitch upwards. “I won’t wait around.”

               Clyde looked at Stan for some clarification, mouth agape. Stan shrugged. “Goth kids, that’s Henrietta.” He pointed out the girl. “They’re a bunch of downers, but I’m pretty sure Kenny’s immune to everything the world’s got.”

               Kenny rejoined their trio and led the way in. If the excitement and energy were evident outside, it was even better in the house. Pounding bass, crowded halls, laughter and dancing and so many attractive people. Clyde was sure he’d died and gone to heaven. This was where he was meant to be, and Kenny’s side pushing up against him in the crowd just made it better.

               After a few drinks, the group lost Stan, but neither was too worried. “He’ll be passed out drunk somewhere,” Kenny claimed, and Clyde was too busy being distracted by the lure of beer pong.

               An hour in, Clyde had taken back every worry he ever had about his roommate. Kenny was lively and wild, contrary to the stick-in-the-mud nerd assumption. He couldn’t believe he ever thought he had to be concerned about interacting with his roommate; it was as easy as breathing. The two were hovering to the side of a dim room, taking a quick breather and clinking their red solo cups, when a girl caught Clyde’s eye.

               A goddess in red! The sun burned in jealously of the shine of her golden locks!

               Really, he recognized her from his English class, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still pretty.

“Go talk to her.” Kenny’s breath was hot on his neck in the crowded room, and it sent chills despite the heat.

               Clyde did not blush. He instead focused on making his way through the throngs of partygoers, dodging cups of unknown drinks and young adults grinding on each other. Finally, he stumbled through past a pair of girls, reaching his destination.

               “Hey, Clyde,” the girl drawled, pushing back a curl. Her lipstick gleamed blood-red.

               Clyde ran a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to make it look less frizzy and sweaty. “Hey, Bebe!” he half-yelled over the noise. “Having fun?”

               Bebe swirled her drink, smirking. “Yeah, but maybe not as much fun as you’ve been having with your friend over there.”

               Clyde turned his head to see where she was gesturing. Kenny was bathed in a faint blue light, forming a type of halo around windswept blond hair, making him look ethereal amidst the other party-goers. At some point in the night, his hoodie got unzipped, showing off a tank top that complimented his figure in comparison to all those baggy jackets. Kenny was talking with Stan again, who was looking pretty worse for wear. Well, less talking with, more talking to while supporting most of his weight. Kenny was saying something and nodding in Clyde’s direction.

               When they locked eyes, Kenny’s blue ones glittered. He winked. The simple action made something flutter in Clyde’s stomach. Maybe it was the alcohol.

               He turned back to Bebe. “He’s my roommate.”

               Clyde watched Bebe crane her neck to look at Kenny again, maybe noting how cheap his clothes looked. One of the girls that Clyde had pushed past leaned heavily on her friend, voice choked with the heavy emotion characteristic of drunk girls. “Oh my god, they were roommates!”

                 Clyde groaned, slamming his head down onto his jumble of papers.

               “Chemistry?” Kenny guessed, huddled with his own books on the top bunk.

               “Spanish,” Clyde corrected. “There’s so many words!” To rub salt into his struggle, Craig just had to be fluent. Not only did that make Clyde feel worse about his own inability, Craig was preoccupied with his physics project and had turned off all notifications. Help from the local genius was inaccessible. “You wouldn’t happen to be taking it, would you?”

               “Nah, I tested out.”

               Clyde swung around. “You know Spanish? Please help me!”

               Kenny peered down. “Not Spanish, I tested out of language with Mandarin.”

               That sent Clyde for a loop. “Mandarin?” Was that even one of the languages someone could take here? Not to mention the difficulty; English script was hard enough for Clyde to read without getting jumbled; he couldn’t wrap his head around understanding the strokes of Mandarin.

               Kenny flipped a page in his notebook. “I used to work at this local Chinese restaurant. I picked a lot up from the owner.” It was said completely nonchalant, as if he wasn’t talking about casually learning a second language.

               “Dude! Just like that?” The Spanish worksheets lay forgotten. Who would’ve guessed his roommate was so interesting? Maybe Clyde just wanted to avoid his homework, but learning more could totally be a valid excuse here.

               “Mhm.” Aside from the affirmation, Kenny was quiet on his bunk.

               “Could you say something in Mandarin?” Clyde prompted hopefully.

               Kenny thought for just a moment. “Tā mā de.”

               Clyde looked on, starry eyed. “So cool! What’s it mean?”

               Kenny scribbled some notes, but paused to glance back at his roommate. His eyes crunched in the way that meant he was smiling, and Clyde’s heart buzzed. “Fuck.”

               Clyde dissolved into laughter, and was quickly followed by Kenny. “I think I will start peppering that into my conversations starting today.” He picked up his abandoned pencil and flipped a Spanish worksheet over. “How do you say it again?”

                 Football practice may not rank as high as triple decker nachos on Clyde’s list of favorite things, but it was up there. The satisfying strain of muscle and delight of messing with his teammates outweighed the yelling of the coaches and the aches the next day by far. It was a time he actually enjoyed, that actually made sense instead of heavy bookwork, so of course the universe wouldn’t let him have it. Ten minutes in, the sky opened up, pouring rain so hard one couldn’t see past their own hand.

               Clyde trudged back to his dorm hall, squinting to see through the sheets of water crashing down. He wiped his soppy bangs from his face, but it did no good. His clothes were drenched and heavy, coupled with the weight of his sports bag of equipment. At least the dorm hall wasn’t too much farther. It was benevolent in its way of offering shelter from the storm, but cruel and unforgiving in its broken elevator sign.

               Clyde was resigned to heaving himself up the stairs, bag hitting every step behind him. A hot shower sounded so good right now. Or maybe lasagna. Or watching bad television in his soft and warm pajamas, snuggled up in blankets. Yeah, his night just got booked.

               He dug in his pocket for his room key, dreaming about the dollar store garlic bread he could cook up. His hand closed on nothing. Clyde switched to his other pocket, then his back pockets, jacket, and bag, growing more desperate with each pocket. Of course.

               Clyde let his weight drop, falling to the ground. Tears welled up in his eyes. He was tired, he was cold, he just wanted to go home! To top it off, Kenny had been talking about meeting up with his friend Eric, and the fact that the two might get arrested and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning.

               Fantastic.

               Clyde tried to ring out his clothes and leaned against the door. Maybe Kenny would get back early. He would love to see that scraggly hair and patched up jacket right now. Until then, well, no point in trying to get anything done.

                 Clyde was jolted out of his half-slumber by the door opening behind him, pushing his back. He looked over his shoulder to see an almost startled Kenny gazing down at him. Clyde quickly lept to his feet. “I thought you were still out.”

               Kenny opened the door further to let his roommate in. “Things went south,” he explained, but didn’t elaborate.

               Clyde pulled his heavy sports bag into the room. “Did you get rained out too?” Most of the water that clung to him had been left in the hall, but his clothes were still damp enough to be uncomfortable.

               Kenny threw himself back into the desk chair, which spun with his weight. “I got shot.”

               Clyde turned with a start, but Kenny looked fine. Clean clothes, smooth movements, a stunning lack of blood. He laughed. “That bad, huh?”

               Kenny’s eyes looked sunken and tired. Clyde quickly decided it didn’t suit him.

               “I’m gonna order a pizza. Proven to heal even the most gruesome wounds! What do you want on it?” He was too tired to make lasagna anyway.

               Kenny leaned back in his chair. “Everything in the store. I’m starving!”

               Clyde dug his phone out and dialed the nearest pizza delivery. His garlic bread was gonna knock Ken’s socks off.

               Nothing screamed procrastination quite like watching dumb shows. Clyde pulled his blanket closer and perused his Netflix options. It would be a good night for a comedy, relieve some stress of classes. The lamps were already turned off, the blue light of the laptop the main source of light in the room. The savory smell of noodles wafted in, and Clyde drooled. Oh yeah, it was all coming together.

               He turned to see his roommate heralding two cups of noodles. Faded pajama pants hung loose around Kenny’s thin frame, and a splash of broth had stained his shirt, which proudly proclaimed that he was the Denver spelling bee champion of 2005. The lighting made it just too difficult to get a good look at the bottom half of his face. Damn. Kenny set the two steaming cups of ramen on the table and crashed down onto the couch.

               “Spelling bee champion?” Clyde finally picked a series to play, and his attention was grabbed by the old tee, the colorful lettering standing out.

               Kenny picked up his noodles. “I stole it from Kyle,” he explained, twirling his chopsticks.

               They settled in, slurping on seasoned noodles and continuing the series started last week. It had plenty of action, but more importantly, it had comedy. There was something special about laughing with Kenny. He had a great laugh.

               Clyde shifted to lean against his friend’s arm. He was expecting maybe a sly comment or for Kenny to gently shove him off; he certainly was not expecting Kenny to take a sharp breath and stiffen. Clyde scrambled to move. “Fuck! Are you okay, dude?”

               Kenny rubbed his arm with his other hand, and Clyde barely hesitated to push up the sleeve and examine. Aside from a few scattered freckles, the skin there was smooth. “Just phantom pain,” Kenny explained. “I hurt it yesterday and I guess I’m still feeling it. Don’t worry about it.”

               Clyde could almost relate, but his sports injuries always left a mark a day later. “What’d you do?”

               Kenny looked like he was considering some options. “Nothing much,” he decided. Clyde frowned, brows furrowed, but Kenny’s face was bright when he looked back. “Don’t worry about it, happens all the time.” He readjusted and leaned back against Clyde. “I always bounce back.”

               With Kenny pressed against him, hot ramen on the table, and the next episode of their comedy beginning to play, Clyde wasn’t about to argue or probe for more information. He was content to just grab his cup of noodles and move closer to his friend’s side.

               “You’re a weirdo, Kenny.” Clyde clapped a hand on his shoulder. “But I’m gonna miss you.”

               Kenny’s eyes crinkled into a smile. “I’m gonna miss you too, you big dummy.”

               Ah shit. Tears started leaking out of Clyde’s doe eyes and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He pulled Kenny into a hug. The shoulder of Kenny’s jacket was getting wet but Clyde didn’t notice. “I mean, you’re just so strange, man! I’ve never known anyone like you. My friend thinks you’re a demon.”

               “Is it the one that’s always hyped up on coffee?”

               “How’d you know?”

               “Lucky guess.” After a few more minutes, Kenny managed to extract himself and put his hands in his pockets. “You’ll see me next year.”

               No, that was way too long. Clyde pulled his phone from his pocket. “We could text over the summer! Maybe meet up?”

               Kenny’s blue eyes lost their shine. “I don’t have a phone. I’m gonna be staying with my brother a few towns over. Sorry, dude.”

               Clyde’s face fell, and he quickly wiped his eyes. “Alright. That’s cool. No worries, man.”

               “Don’t miss me too much!” Kenny put a hand on Clyde’s shoulder as a goodbye, but it was the wrong move, as it sent the other into another death-grip hug. It might be a while.

                 Summer felt like a trade of Kenny for Tweek and Token back in person, and it was seriously messing with Clyde’s emotions. He loved his friends, and seeing Craig happier was always a treat, but without Kenny, things felt duller. It might’ve been easier to mope and forget those bright eyes for a while if relationships weren’t such a hot topic of conversation.

               “Pretty fffunny that you w-worried all that much and all you did was fall in love with him.”

               Clyde floundered. “I did not fall in love with him!”

               Tweek pulled on his hair. “Gah! What if he infects you with alien spawn now that he’s gained your trust!”

               Token poked at his gelato. “I thought the theory was that he’s a demon?”

               Tweek set back to his espresso ice cream. “I’ve been workshopping it.”

               “Don’t make him show you the PowerPoint,” Craig added. “It’s full of spelling errors and he won’t let me fix it.”

               “You guys are the nerdiest couple I’ve ever seen,” Clyde said, annoyance temporarily forgotten over the pair, “and it’s so cute.” Craig flipped him off.

               “S-soon they will be b-b-balanced out by the unt-untamable party couple,” Jimmy snickered.

               “We’re not dating! I don’t even know if he likes boys,” Clyde defended. All the other parties present gave Clyde a long look. “What?”

               “Dude,” Token began. “Kenny likes boys.”

               “And girls. And an-anything that gives consent.”

               “WHAT?” Clyde dropped his ice cream. “How have you guys noticed and I haven’t? Token doesn’t even go to our school!”

               “Clyde,” Craig deadpanned. “He has a pride flag on his jacket.”

               “It was in the—ah! It was in the picture you showed us!”

               The boys all watched as Clyde tore out his phone and scrolled through his pictures until he reached the desired one. Sure enough, once he was looking, the pink, yellow, and blue patch was obvious. “Oh no,” Clyde whispered, horrified, “I’m an idiot.” He looked up just in time to see Tweek smack a hand against Craig, who had an amused look on his features. “But that doesn’t mean I like him!”

               “One thing at a time, buddy.”

               Clyde ripped open his dorm room door, excitement bringing him close to bursting. An agonizingly long summer, three long Kenny-less months. At last, on the other side of that door would be a gross old backpack and an orange parka and everything would fall back into place.

               “H-hey, Clyde!”

               Clyde stood in the doorway, staring blankly. Jimmy was on the bottom bunk, pulling notebooks out of his backpack. His smile was bright and wonderful as always, but that moment marked the only time it made Clyde feel worse.

               “Oh. Hey, Jim.”

               “You didn’t c-c-check anyone else’s room n-number,” Jimmy noted, unfazed.

               “Nope,” Clyde sighed. If you asked him a year ago, rooming with Jimmy would’ve been the dream, but now? He couldn’t imagine staying with anyone but Kenny McCormick.

               “N-no worries.” Jimmy grabbed his crutches, which were propped up against the wall. A confident smile played at his lips. “I know a v-vi-a visit with Cr-Craig will turn that f-frown upside down.”

Clyde didn’t believe it; Craig could be a sourpuss, and his general attitude was not likely to fix Clyde’s mood. Nevertheless, he was still a reliable friend. “CRAAAIIIG,” Clyde groaned, stepping into the dorm, hand over face. He didn’t bother trying to contain his distress. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen Craig at his worst, anyway.

               “Nice to see you too, Clyde.”

               Hold up.

               Clyde uncovered an eye to see a mop of blond and a horrendously vibrant orange hoodie. “Kenny!” There was no hesitation in flinging his whole weight at the other, who nearly toppled over. He wrapped his arms tight, and Kenny shifted uncomfortably.

               “Might need some air here.”

               Clyde loosened his arms marginally, but pressed his face into the jacket. “I’m never letting go.”

               “Alright, but I don’t know the last time I washed this hoodie.”

               “Same goes for my shirt, man.”

               Jimmy and Craig each took a step away from the pair. Craig kept taking steps, out the door and down the hall.

               “Should I be worried?” Kenny asked into Clyde’s hair.

               “Nah, he’s gonna go do my laundry.”

               “How did you ever survive before you met him?”

               How did I ever survive without you, Clyde thought. Kenny was the sun, bright and wonderful, even if he didn’t know exactly how it functioned. If he could spend the rest of eternity here with Kenny, reckless, hardworking, witty Kenny, he would be happy. From where he was tucked, Clyde could easily peer over Kenny’s shoulder and get a good view of Jimmy. He was smirking at Clyde knowingly, the kind of look his friends always gave when it was proven that they were right.

               Oh.

               Dammit.

               The group chat chimed a dozen messages, mostly words of encouragement. Clyde puffed his chest and began striding over to his target. The device continued to chime, and it only served to boost his esteem. He positioned himself against a wall, propping himself up against it.

               When Kenny finally reached his point at the sidewalk, Clyde brushed his hair back and tried for an award-winning smile. “Hey, Ken, top or bottom?”

               Kenny was still sporting his work uniform, with the addition of his heavy parka. He looked at Clyde, and his blue eyes were heavy and tired. “We don’t bunk together anymore, Clyde.”

               Clyde only grinned back.

               Kenny’s eyes widened. “Oh fuck.”

               Clyde flashed a finger gun. “You and me, 7:00, sushi shop downtown?”

               Kenny made an “okay” sign with his hand. “Hell yeah! Wanna see if Jimmy and Craig are willing to switch roommates?”

               “They’ll do it, they’re great wingmen.” Clyde took Kenny’s hand in his own, confident.

               Who needed classes or sports or parties or graduation? Hands down, Clyde would say the best thing about college was his super cool, not nerdy, Mandarin-speaking, psych major, idiot roommate. All that other stuff was just extra, pushing him closer to where he needed to be.

               Maybe a class on mysterious boyfriend investigation would be beneficial, though.

[agentdagonet]

To Listen and be Heard

Read it here one AO3

Summary: The hangar window echoed Harry’s comment about his dad, said that it was so glad to see a soul like Lee’s in the halls again.

There was a reason Merlin was lying to them, the parachutes said, and it was important. So Eggsy pretended he hadn’t Heard and tried to get everyone to ground safely. But fuckin’ Rufus had to cock it up and things went so fast that, honestly, Eggsy forgot that Merlin was lying.

Eggsy forgot to Listen. That became a pattern, this time it wasn’t entirely purposeful, and Eggsy cursed himself for having finally accomplished that feat when the laptop echoed his own screams. A man he’d barely known, but wished to- the opportunity stolen by a madman.

When Eggsy was little, he learned to Listen.

         His dad would stop him when they were playing, and ask what he heard. He’d ask him what the bugs sounded like, the leaves in the wind, what the birds were saying to each other. And Eggsy would tell him, very seriously, that the bugs were angry about the very large things stepping all over their houses, that the leaves were letting each other know about the storm coming that night, and that the birds were arguing over a place to perch overhead.

         Lee would laugh and swing Eggsy up onto his shoulders, congratulating him on his amazing ears, before starting the game anew.

         When his dad died, Eggsy could Hear his clothes telling him when they were too dirty to wear, or how to fold them just right, and how to wash them proper. The fridge would let him know what was edible, and how he could make it safely; the doors would let him know when his mum was too out of it to open them herself. It was the only way anything got done, those first few years; despite how sad he was that his dad wasn’t coming home, Eggsy could keep him alive by Listening. If only a little.

         When his mum met Dean, the door worried about the unkind man helping his mother through the house. The walls complained about the subtle violences they now had to witness. The sofa was beside itself for having to support such a man and his friends. Eggsy’s belongings gave a litany of apologies for the circumstances he found himself in. His shoes apologised for their inability to lead him to safety, his shirts for their wear and tear causing him to be insufficiently shielded by the elements.

         The medal always begged for Eggsy to make the call, and apologised for not being able to do more.

         Training for the Marines was nearly impossible when the weapons were all unwilling participants, when private sorrows were made known to him and he could no longer make eye contact with the others, when the very housing they were assigned seemed to want nothing more than to convince everyone to leave at the earliest opportunity.

When his mum had called, talking about a sister, he hadn’t had to think before making a choice.

         Eggsy Listened to Daisy’s toys, a surefire way to know Dean hadn’t done anything to her, and blankets to know how to help her get the best rest. His mum was lost in the bottle, still, so often and Dean was never going to be a dad- so it fell to him to care for her safety.

         Eggsy never stopped Listening- he’d tried, after Dean had hit him for the first time, unwilling to Hear the horrified sadness that seeped from the house, but he couldn’t turn it off. He did his level best to ignore it, oftimes doing the opposite of whatever he Heard, and had more than once cursed the memory of his father for leaving him with this talent. The memory had become warped and worn with age.

         The worst things to Hear were stolen. Either Eggsy was told the sordid affair as if it were a drama on the telly, or whatever it was would be crying into the seeming-void about the injustice done to their family. If Eggsy was made to nick something, though, Listening came in handy- you wouldn’t believe how many things just… don’t want to be where they are. A chance to see something beyond the space they’ve been kept in- no matter petty human laws. He’d managed to skirt the edge of discovery a hundred times just by Listening and acting accordingly.

         So on the day Rottie pushed a bit too far at the Prince, when Eggsy’s jacket whispered an apology and his hat spat vitriol, Eggsy Heard Rottie’s keys wish there was something they could do to stop him. If there was one thing Eggsy was shit at doing, it was ignoring things that need help, and who else could possibly do anything in this circumstance?

         This time, when the medal begged and apologised in equal measure, Eggsy called- it thanked him, softly.

         The hangar window echoed Harry’s comment about his dad, said that it was so glad to see a soul like Lee’s in the halls again.

         There was a reason Merlin was lying to them, the parachutes said, and it was important. So Eggsy pretended he hadn’t Heard and tried to get everyone to ground safely. But fuckin’ Rufus had to cock it up and things went so fast that, honestly, Eggsy forgot that Merlin was lying.

         Eggsy forgot to Listen. That became a pattern, this time it wasn’t entirely purposeful, and Eggsy cursed himself for having finally accomplished that feat when the laptop echoed his own screams. A man he’d barely known, but wished to- the opportunity stolen by a madman.

The butterflies spoke all at once, nonsensical.

Mr. Pickle was sad in a way that didn’t need words when Eggsy came down the stairs.

I’m poisoned, the glass whispered to its mate, it feels slimy.

He’s betrayed us all, the pen growled, with no care for the world we are supposed to protect.

Roxy’s gun apologised. Eggsy was so tired of Hearing apologies.

         The suit bid him welcome, spoke of the care and love that went into the selection of the fabric, spoke highly of Harry’s mischief in convincing Dagonet of crafting them into the Kingsman style despite his not having been Knighted.

         Once Eggsy knew what the chips sounded like, he could Hear them clearly. We don’t belong here we don’t belong here we don’t belong here we don’t belong here

Thank you in eerie thousand-fold as the fireworks began.

-----

         The door to the Prince is tired when Eggsy gets there. His suit had thanked him for repairing instead of tossing- and for the first time in far too long Eggsy had responded.

         ‘The fuck would I get rid of you for? You’re literally the only reason I’m still alive at this point. Besides,’ Eggsy swallowed, and rubbed one thumb against the fabric slowly, ‘you’re the only thing Harry ever really gave me, y’know?’

You have more of him than you know the suit replied as he pushed open the door.

         Eggsy let himself Listen again, when the dust settled. More than that, even. He focused on it, trained it as one would any other skill, and stretched every one of the boundaries he encountered. He could tell you the conversations happening within an anthill, he nursed a dead garden back to life by conversing with the soil, he developed an unerring eye for fabrics that had Dagonet eyeing him strangely.

         The scissors told him that Dagonet could nearly Listen, once, but he’d dismissed it as intuition and imagination. Not everyone born with such a gift knew what it was- or how to use it.

-----

         The Galahad house greeted him with wholehearted apathy, the first day After; a blank slate. Everything that made the house Harry’s was still there, but all the Voices were gone. It was stifling, and Eggsy couldn’t take it for more than an hour.

         ‘Look, I know I ain’t gonna be him. I know that you had a long history an’ shit and it’s not fair that the last thing he did here was leave in anger. I know that was my fault, and I don’ expect you to love me like you did him- not now, and prolly not ever to be honest. But… don’t try to erase him, especially if it’s just cos that’s what’d be proper.

         ‘You’re allowed to mourn him like everybody else, an’ it’s okay if you don’t know how that is just yet.’

Who is he talking to- he doesn’t have glasses on, and no one else is here.

         ‘Has no one spoken to you before?’ Eggsy glanced about the space, a small frown marring his features, before he sighed and slumped into a chair.

Spoken to who?

         ‘To you!’

You can hear us?

         ‘Yeah, I’m sorry you’ve been alone all this time.’

We don’t understand- alone? Being without a person doesn’t make us so.

         ‘You’re right, sorry- I keep cocking this up. I just wanted you to know that you don’t need to pretend just cos I’m around. I know it ain’t much, but I can give you time, and I don’t plan on changing much of anything here, if you don’t mind me staying?’

You’re asking permission?

         ‘It’s not like I’ve got anythin’ left to lose- and no one else would think of it, would they?’

Stay as long as you like- Harry would have wanted it no other way.

-----

         Eggsy learned more about Harry in the months after Kentucky than he ever really wanted to know.

That was a lie, but it was the one that allowed him to function best.

         The day he walked through the door to silence put him immediately on edge- whether he was half-dead or right as rain the door had greeted him as he got home.

         ‘Are you alrigh’?’

Shh, he’s sleeping. Eggsy relaxed minutely with the reply before processing it fully and tensing.

         ‘Who’s here? How’d he get in?’ Eggsy whispered as he made his way through the front of the house, watch primed and finger on the trigger, both as deference to the house’s request for quiet and to keep his location quiet from whoever the intruder was.

         He’s come such a long way Eggsy rounded the corner to the sitting room and froze, his arms fell loosely to his sides and his lips parted with a small gasp. Let him sleep. Now that Eggsy wasn’t focused on the mysterious stranger, he could Hear the house humming in celebration.

         The butterflies were buzzing about as always, but in excited tones- Mr Pickle was simply beside himself, a name over and over. The couch nattered about the weight curled upon it and the fridge was whisper-yelling ideas for dinner at Eggsy as if he was in any state to comprehend them. He rubbed fruitlessly at his eyes, trying to drive away tears that filled them but refused to fall; he pinched his waist harshly and swore beneath his breath.

         Curled upon the couch was Harry, for it could be no one else, arms tucked beneath his head like a child and legs curled as tightly as possible. The eyepatch was new, and his clothes were in a sadder state than most of what Eggsy had seen since leaving the estates, but even relaxed in a way Eggsy had never seen before Harry was- was-

         ‘Harry’s alive. Buggering fuck the bastard’s alive.’ He ran a hand through his hair, pulled slightly at the roots, before nodding to himself. Eggsy pulled a blanket from the hall closet, something soft and new, and laid it atop Harry’s sleeping form before he made his way to the kitchen to heed at least one of the fridge’s suggestions.

         Eggsy had never just let himself act on autopilot before. Even when callous, his actions were thought through- just not very well. But he couldn’t think when Harry was right there and whatever the house told him to do it would be done. They knew him best, after all.

He’d never Listened so much in his life- the spoons and jars told him when to stop adding this or that, the stovetop when to adjust the heat, the kettle how to make tea precisely as Harry liked it. Eggsy bustled about the kitchen in a way that he never had before- as if he belonged there, as if somehow Harry being in the space made it more Eggsy’s as opposed to less.

         Eggsy had finished dinner and cleaned up the mess when he heard Harry begin to stir. He’d been talking quietly to the house, asking about Harry’s arrival though he’d already heard the tale thrice over, when the first groan came. Eggsy set himself about dishing up a small portion of food and bringing it to the coffee table.

         ‘Time to eat, sleeping beauty.’ Eggsy’d decided while cooking that he wasn’t going to make a big deal out of the events of this afternoon. He’d gladly take whatever Harry would be willing to share, when it came to an explanation, and not push for more. He wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

         What he hadn’t been expecting was Harry to sit up so quickly that he nearly fell off the couch, tangled in the blanket as he was, at the sound of his voice.

‘Eggsy?’ The boy is real, then. The eyepatch muttered to itself.

         ‘What d’you mean by real, mate?’ Eggsy responded without thinking, and chuckled to himself before remembering that he had just responded to an inanimate object when there was a human being both conscious and in front of him. Shit.

‘Pardon?’ You can hear me?

         ‘Sorry, Harry- thought I heard you question your reality for a second there. I’m here and listening, though.’ Yes, he can hear you. The couch replied, and Eggsy sighed in relief- the house could take it from here. ‘An’ you’ve got some soup and toast to eat,’ Eggsy gestured to the bowl, ‘and tea to wash it down before you go up to your room and get some proper rest.’

‘I wouldn’t put you out, Eggsy, the sofa-’

         ‘As much as I’m sure the sofa enjoys having you back, I’m positive the bed would be even more so. And you wouldn’t be putting me out- I never really moved out of the guest room; frankly I’ve been more a caretaker than a resident, mate.’ We couldn’t have asked for a better companion the frames whispered, and Eggsy smiled a bit to himself before heading back into the kitchen and serving himself some of the soup.

         ‘How…?’ Harry was sat up, one hand holding the spoon as the other lay loosely in his lap. ‘Eggsy?’

         ‘M’yeah? What’s wrong?’ Eggsy walked back in with a bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other, and settled himself into the armchair before raising an eyebrow in Harry’s direction. The entire moment was so casual that Harry could have sworn it had happened a thousand times before and it threw him completely.

‘You’re taking this very well, for having arrived home to a dead man in your sitting room.’

         ‘First off, it’s your sitting room; second, I got home ages ago- I got in, saw you asleep, had my moment all quiet like, and decided you looked like you needed a meal. I made you soup and tea and toast cos I figured tha’s light and I dunno what shit you’ve been through in the past few months but you looked like you needed somethin’ homey.’ Eggsy shrugged, careful not to spill his soup before slurping obnoxiously directly from the bowl, having seemingly forgotten the spoon in his other hand. ‘Fuck, that’s good.’ You got it just right the kitchen sang, and Eggsy hummed back as he took another not-so-delicate sip.

‘I see Knighthood hasn’t polished you much.’

         ‘Oi- I’m a fuckin’ diamond in the rough, yeah? Like Aladdin and shit; don’t need to fix what ain’t broken.’

‘Does that make me the Genie in this scenario?’

         ‘Whatever floats your boat, bruv.’ They sat together in silence, eating their respective meals while the house chattered about feeling whole again. We do hope you’ll stay, Eggsy.

         ‘You ain’t gettin’ rid of me that easily.’ It’s murmured, but even that was loud enough to draw Harry’s attention. He raised an eyebrow in Eggsy’s general direction as he took a sip of his tea before his eyes flew open and the cup was set down firmly.

         ‘How did you know that?’ Maybe we went a little bit overboard with the welcome home… the fridge worried, and the kettle agreed, but Eggsy didn’t let his shock show as his mind raced with possible explanations that didn’t involve explaining that the kettle told him.

‘Know what?’

         ‘How I took- take- my tea?’

‘You made us tea for that lesson, remember? Etiquette, before Kentucky?’

         ‘I don’t recall you having an eidetic memory.’

         ‘It’s a little hard to forget you in that apron- y’beat up Dean’s goons in a suit, you bring me to fuckin’ spy school and get yourself blown up, and then you teach me how to hold a fuckin’ fork proper in a tie and apron?’ Eggsy made it sound incredulous, but Harry’s expression hadn’t shifted a bit- he deflated, curled in on himself and rubbed one finger across the side of his bowl before locking eyes with Harry. ‘I missed you. I felt like I fucked everythin’ up, like I threw you off before you went off on your big mission and then you died. I saw that bullet come right at me through that fuckin’ screen and I blamed myself cos if I hadn’t cocked it up maybe you’d’ve had backup or something. I dunno.

         ‘But you said you’d handle shit when you got back, but you weren’t comin’ back, so I had to handle it and… I didn’t, really.’ Eggsy shrugged one shoulder, the other hand coming up to run through his hair. ‘I did what I could- I got Valentine, saved the world, and I came back an’ the house was still empty but I couldn’t make myself change anything. You were the only person who’d ever really believed in me, I didn’t want to forget you somehow, so I just… dusted, and snooped, and tried to remember as much as I could.’ The only way to talk around something is to obscure it with the truth. You don’t lie, you merely play with your words so they paint the picture you intend to portray rather than the truth in its entirety.

         You’re very good at talking your way around a problem the eyepatch praised, and somehow that’s what made him blush, the compliment of this new part of Harry that hadn’t known him Before. But, given the circumstances, he figured he could be forgiven.

         Harry was staring at Eggsy like he hadn’t seen him before, like he had somehow managed to accomplish the impossible. ‘You got Valentine? But surely one of the senior Knights-’

         ‘Tha’s what you’re taking from that? Harry, the whole thing was fucked from the beginning- Arthur set me up to fail, you up to die, and the world up to kill itself long as he and his was safe. Couldn’t trust no one else, yeah? So Merlin and I ended up stormin’ the gates, Rox went to space to blow up a satellite, and the world still almost went to shit cos I had to pretend to be Chester bloody King and fuckin’ Charlie was there and blew my cover- but we did it.’ The best distractions are self-made; tie them up with their own string. It felt wrong to be using these lessons on Harry, but that it was working was a testament all its own. It’s been a long journey home- but hopefully he’ll be set to rights soon the worn clothes sighed.

         ‘I- I’m not sure I understand, but perhaps you’re right. Maybe I do need some proper rest. But,’ Harry paused, briefly looking Eggsy from head to foot, ‘I’m very glad to have come back to you doing so well. I knew you had the makings of a Kingsman the moment you went off on me at the Prince.’ Harry took another spoonful of soup, and dabbed his mouth once with a napkin before speaking again. ‘But that still doesn’t explain how you managed my mother’s recipe for this soup.’ Shit.

         ‘I said I went snooping, didn’t I?’ Eggsy thanked his mouth for running ahead of his brain as it once again saved his arse. ‘Old files, the boxes in the attic, anythin’ I found in the laptop or came across when fuckin’ about at headquarters… I don’ remember where I learned this shit but it sounded good- couldn’t get myself to make it before today, though, so I’m glad I didn’t fuck it up. Not that I’d’ve known without you here an’ all.’

         ‘Hmm.’ Harry seemed to let the conversation go, there, finishing his soup before he stood and stretched widely and Eggsy couldn’t stop himself from standing as well.

         ‘Welcome home, Harry,’ for a moment Eggsy contemplated reaching forward and embracing him, but despite all the things Eggsy now knew about Harry he knew that he would find it more than a bit strange- and Eggsy didn’t want Harry to linger on the strangeness. He wanted Harry to settle back into life and thrive again. So, as Harry made his way up the stairs, Eggsy grabbed a set of glasses and sat himself back down in the armchair.

         ‘Hey, Merthur, I know it’s tits o’clock in the morning at this point but I figured you’d wanna know the bastard’s alive.’

         ‘Eggsy, I’m sure that sentence made sense in one way or another but I’m in the middle of setting up-’

‘Harry’s alive, Merlin.’

         ‘... I don’t think I heard you right, lad, did you just-’

         ‘Harry’s alive, missing an eye but alive, an’ he’s currently asleep upstairs since I finally got him to go to bed proper.’

         ‘Not that I don’t believe you, Eggsy, but… do you have some sort of evidence? A blanket and a set of dishes don’t mean much in our line of work, you know that.’

         ‘I can do you one better,’ Eggsy smirked to himself, and glanced idly at the crumpled napkin on the coffee table, ‘and get you a sample you can test for your bloody self.’

-----

         ‘Ain’t you glad I refused Galahad, Merls?’ Eggsy panted out, twisting about a corner so quick two of the goons skidded into one another behind him.

         ‘At this point I’m mad you didn’t refuse the position entirely, you enormous thorn in my backside,’ Merlin groused, ‘Take the next window, Gawain.’ There’s more men with large guns across the way, that’s not safe! The glass panicked, not knowing it was Heard, and Eggsy ignored Merlin’s instructions and instead made his way to the roof, Listening to the walls complain of their damage and the fire escape grumbling about being treated like a landing pad.

         ‘Which way?’ It was said to the empty air, and Merlin grumbled something about him ignoring instructions so why bother giving any. ‘I’m Listening- which way.’ Over here he Hears Harry’s eyepatch, a whisper on the wind he could hear a kilometre away, and is off like a shot before Merlin could say a word. He made his way down the building to the street, and landed just around the corner from Harry’s in-process car-jacking.

         ‘How did you-’ Harry was already shifting his weight to give Eggsy room to take over- all the training in the world couldn’t make up for years of survival experience, according to the Kingsman track records, and that was before Kentucky. It’s faster if you do it the other way the car says, and Eggsy just knows that it’s had to see some shit. He takes the suggestion before shoving Harry to the passenger side and hopping behind the wheel.

‘D’you trust me?’ This is exciting!

         ‘Is this more of your Aladdin nonsense?’ Eggsy’s lip twitched on one end as he revved the engine.

-----

         ‘What’re you thinking about?’ Eggsy sat beside Harry on the balcony, idly keeping tabs on what the flowers were gossiping about for lack of people-watching to do, while Harry looked lost in thought.

         ‘Everything, nothing; how so much and yet nothing has changed.’ Harry sounded so lost, and Eggsy couldn’t help but take a deep breath. He thought of his dad, of the wind and the leaves and the birds above their heads, and smiled.

‘D’you trust me?’ Maybe it was time to try and share.

         ‘For what must be the thousandth time: yes, Eggsy, I trust you. You can stop with the Disney nonsense.’

         ‘Close your eye. Take a breath,’ Eggsy tried to find a good place to start. ‘What’re you not thinking about?’

‘What?’

         ‘What’re you not thinking about?’

         ‘Many things, I imagine, but how am I to know if I’m not thinking about them?’ Harry sounded confused, but not sceptical.

         ‘You’ve got to empty your head, and see what comes to fill the gaps.’ Harry kept his eye shut, and hummed to himself idly for a while before speaking.

‘You never really answered my question.’

         ‘Which one?’

‘About my mother’s recipe.’

         ‘It’s been months, Harry, how d’you even remember that? You were half out of it just from exhaustion.’

         ‘It never really left- you said you snooped, so I snooped. I went through my files and the attic and even questioned Merlin once but it’s not written anywhere. I checked.’ Eggsy had to keep himself from grimacing- having decided to try and teach Harry to Listen was one thing. Admitting that his house had instructed him on how to cook an old family recipe while he’d been in a stupor was quite another.

         But, there was nothing to be done about it now- it seemed that, as always, Harry was all-or-nothing. Even when he didn’t even know what ‘all’ entailed.

‘I Listened.’

[apluseffort]

Fic: C^3 - Part 1/3

Here I am with more Clarus/Cor fic with a bit of a twist. 

Cor isn't quite sure how this could be possible. One Clarus Amicitia was enough to deal with, but two? Two was just going a bit too far.

AO3 Link

“Cor.”

The man in question nearly jumps to his feet at the call. He looks around, brain on alert, confused at where the voice had come from. The last thing Cor remembers was that he was taking first watch, watching in the flame’s light of the campfire. Gladiolus had nodded off at his right side not five minutes earlier, but when he turns to look for the young man he’s nowhere to be found.

“Cor.”

Cor recognizes that voice; low and light. The person who it belonged to has long since passed on months ago. Cor feels the familiar ache in his heart as he tries to put a face to the voice. A voice so familiar, and yet, there was something different about it. This voice sounded younger, more amused than the tired and worn one he was so used to.

“Cor, you gonna say ‘hello’ to me or what?”

Cor turns to his left and sees a familiar young man beside him. He almost thinks it’s Gladiolus for a moment, before he actually notices the difference in body types. This young man is slightly shorter and just as muscular, but the cocky surefire grin was something Gladiolus could never imitate.

A young Clarus Amicitia sits to his left, leaning back on both hands as he watches Cor with amusement written all over his face. This was same man Cor had met over three decades ago as a teenager. It’s so surreal that Cor wants to reach out to him, unsure how this could even be possible. He turns around to look to his right, hoping to see Gladio there. Just to have some sort of reassurance that he wasn’t losing his mind at that moment.

“Gladio’s fine. You’d think I’d let something happen to my son?”

Hearing that coming from the younger Clarus made this moment even more surreal. This was the Clarus who existed before Gladiolus was born. Before he’d become Marshall. Cor doesn’t know what to do or say, but he decides to lift his hand as if to touch his friend and stops halfway, his hand hovering in midair.

“Cor, you can touch me. I’m not going to bite- Unless you want me to.” Young Clarus says with wink.

Cor frowns at that last comment when he hears Clarus’s deep laugh echo into the nothingness around the campfire. He didn’t even notice that they were sitting around a campfire in what had apparently become a dark void of nothing.

“It’s a dream.”

Another, deeper, more familiar voice comes from the space on his right side. He spins to face the owner of this voice and is greeted by the tired, recognizable face of the Clarus he'd left behind in Insomnia.

“I guess that makes the most sense considering you're currently on either side of me.”

“SO I’m the man of your dreams, huh? I'm flattered,” the younger Clarus says with a teasing grin. The older one snorted in laughter.

Cor frowns, feeling his face warm enough to become noticeable. “You'll keep both of your damned mouths shut if you know what's good for you.”

“I think that means I hit the nail on the head.”

The older of the two leans in to wrap an arm around Cor’s shoulders, pulling him close for a easy hug. Cor is surprised with how warm the older Clarus is; how alive he feels against him. He’s aware of how easy it is to settle into that warmth and comfort provided by his friend.

“Even old, you're still so easy to tease.” The older Clarus chuckles as he leans close, breathing in deeply, as if he were taking in Cor's scent. That would have been impossible though, Cor reminds himself, Clarus has been dead for months.

The younger Clarus smiles, leaning over to Cor's other side. He is just as warm and as just as much a comfort as his older counterpart.

Cor isn't sure what to make of this.

“I appreciate you looking over the kids.” The older Clarus says, turning his face in towards Cor, nuzzling the short hair with his nose. “Even though this one can be a handful sometimes.”

“I couldn't leave them,” Cor starts, but stops. How could he explain this without sounding like a complete sap, that the Amicitias were like a second family to him. “I wouldn't have left you or Regis if I had a choice.”

Clarus grunts his response. He knew the orders Cor had to follow. He knew how much it hurt the man to leave those he cared about behind to what was assuredly their deaths.

The younger Clarus sighs and gently takes Cor’s face in his hands and pulls him in, lightly touching their lips together. Cor sighs against his mouth, taking comfort in the fact that Clarus was here with him. Even if it was just a dream.

“We don't deserve someone like you.” The older Clarus whispers into his hair. Cor isn't sure if Clarus is referring to the two versions of him at this moment or Regis and him. Instead, Cor lets the younger Clarus takes his breath away as he goes in for another kiss. Cor feels his body respond to the pressure of soft lips and a light scraping of teeth.

He really doesn’t mind indulging himself. Not when Clarus is here in some impossible way and the man’s son is about to make a stupid, stubborn decision that he himself had also made all those years ago. If there was anything Cor wanted was to keep Gladio from becoming like himself. Clarus would never forgive him if he'd lost his son due to some misplaced sense of honor, strength and duty.

A pair of strong arms tighten around his waist as the older voice growls into his ear, “Stop thinking too hard. You need a break. Even if it's a short one.”

Cor sighs into the younger Clarus’s mouth, trying to shut off the thoughts in his head. His older counterpart starts mouthing the skin on his neck from his seat on his side.

“Cor, you need to wake up.”

Cor groans a little, not wanting to obey the voice talking to him. The younger Clarus leans back with a lazy smile, “The kid’s right, you know.”

“Hm?”

“He needs to take priority right now.”

It's then when he feels his body lurch into a state of awareness. He is sitting in front of their bonfire, flames still roaring over the dry, dead wood. His mind suddenly goes into alert mode. He begins to check his surroundings for threats before his eyes land on a very much awake Gladiolus.

“Good, you're up. I was worried I'd have to start kicking you.”

Cor shakes his head as he brings a hand up to his temple. He could almost still feel Clarus’s presence surrounding him in some form; the echoing comfort and warmth he hadn't felt in so long lingering like a second skin.

“Cor?”

The older man turns to Gladio. He sees a lot of Clarus in him and not just physically. No, Gladio and Iris had both been fortunate with inheriting the best of their father in terms of dedication and friendliness. He just hopes he can fill in and assist in any way he can, not as a replacement, but as someone who they could look up to.

“You ok, Cor? You look like you were spacing out there.”

Gladio’s hand comes to rest on his shoulder. Here and now Cor knows he needs to keep moving forward for the Amicitia family’s sake. Cor pats Gladio’s hand with his own in reassurance and moves to stand. The hand keeps him from getting to far up.

“I think it'd be better for you to rest for a bit longer. You don't normally nod off like that.”

The stare Cor levels at Gladio could melt steel, but the younger man doesn't budge. Instead, he laughs and claps Cor's should once more.

“Just get a little more rest, old man, you deserve it.”

No matter how grateful Cor is over the extra rest, he's definitely going to make Gladio pay for that “old man” remark.

[ohlawsons]

the things that matter.

SUMMARY. Commander Natalie Shepard has a bit of a history with her flight lieutenant, but they've long since worked through any lingering awkwardness. Mostly. When she and Kaidan go on a double date with Joker and his girlfriend, it leaves them all thinking about the past, what-ifs, and all the things that are most important. Inspired by a double date prompt. NOTES. nat belongs to @reagans-ramblings! thank you for letting me write about your beautiful bi shepard i love her so much now with an ao3 link! LINKS. [ AO3 ] [ FFN ]

Thinking back, Joker wasn’t sure exactly whose idea it had been.

Setting up an elaborate double date between three of the galaxy’s busiest people and a woman whose job required her to be virtually impossible to track down was, strictly speaking, a terrible idea. Maybe Cal had suggested it, because she loved social shit like that. Or maybe he had, because social shit like that was a surefire way to convince Cal to take some shore leave on the Citadel. There was a pretty decent chance it had been Kaidan, for no other reason than Joker was more than willing to put some good-natured blame on the major. Hell, it might’ve even been EDI who’d brought it up, and in that case he was just glad he wasn’t on his way to meet her and Sam.

Although, awkward as EDI could be, a double date with her and the comm specialist could potentially be less awkward than a double date with Major Alenko and Commander Shepard — the now very pregnant Commander Shepard, who he’d once dated, and who his current girlfriend was definitely a little bit into.

Yeah, he’d rather take his chances with EDI and Sam.

But then his omni-tool chimed with a message from Kaidan saying they were running a few minutes late, and Joker typed up a reply that Cal was still MIA, and it was officially too late to back out. He fidgeted with his suit — again; it was only at the insistence of both Cal and Kaidan that he’d even agreed to wear it in the first place — and opened a vid call to Cal. “Any chance you’re still in another system? Running tragically late and we’ll have to miss dinner?”

She laughed. “Just landed, unfortunately. I’m on my way over.”

“Alright. See you then.” Not leaving the crew quarters just yet, Joker glanced reflexively over to where EDI’s display had once been. “EDI, let me know when Cal gets here.”

“Of course, Jeff. I can also alert the Commander with an updated estimation of your arrival, if you’d like.”

He groaned in response.

Fortunately for Joker, the Normandy was blissfully empty given that they were finally getting a rare bit of shore leave. Adams was still down in engineering, and he was pretty sure Tali and Traynor were both around somewhere, but with EDI’s help it had been easy enough to avoid them all evening. This whole ordeal — dressing up and looking presentable and going out to a fancy restaurant — was certainly not high on his list of ways he typically preferred to spend his time on the Citadel, and the last thing he wanted was to have to deal with comments from the rest of the crew.

But by the time he’d met Cal down in the CIC, he’d almost changed his mind about dressing up and going out; her short hair was combed back into its usual style, and she wore simple heels and a fitted suit with a black jacket and a crisp white shirt left partially unbuttoned, and she was quite possibly the best damned thing he’d seen since the start of the war. Or ever.

Joker pointed to her shirt. “You missed one,” he said, clearing his throat as he tried to find his voice.

“I prefer to think of it as giving you a head start, you know, for later, but I can always—” Cal moved to fasten another of the buttons, and he quickly retracted his statement.

“Actually, on second thought, it looks great.” He paused, not bothering to hide how his eyes roamed across her figure. “You look great,” he added, voice filled with sincerity, and emphasized the statement with a kiss, just a light brush of his lips against Cal’s.

“I look fucking fantastic,” she shot back, stealing a quick kiss of her own, “and you’re not so bad yourself. But I was promised dinner, and company that I haven’t spent the last four months with.”

He took her hand as she led him out through the main airlock and towards the skycar she’d brought. “Is it that bad?” Joker frowned; Alliance special ops weren’t easy during the best of times, but with the war, Cal’s N7 training had been pushed to the limits. He knew it had been draining her, but the level of exhaustion in her voice was still unexpected.

She gave little more than a shrug in answer, climbing into the skycar and not surrendering Joker’s hand even as she keyed in the location of the restaurant. “War sucks and everything’s classified.” Despite her words, Cal launched into a vague explanation of her most recent mission, detailing the soldiers she’d lost and the relative lack of success they’d had against the reapers. Joker chimed in where he could, adding sarcasm or supportive comments as needed., and Cal’s mood had nearly lifted by the time they reached the restaurant.

They were the first ones there, and a quick message to Kaidan confirmed that it wouldn’t be a long wait. The reservation was under Natalie’s name, and apparently being Commander Shepard meant no waiting in lines, because Joker and Cal were almost immediately led to a relatively secluded table near the back. The second couple joined them before they’d even ordered drinks, and Joker wasn’t sure whether he or Cal was being more obvious about their staring; he’d long since accepted that Kaidan would always manage to look unfairly handsome — and it didn’t hurt that his suit actually looked like it fit — but it had been a long time since he’d seen Nat out of uniform and she was practically glowing, with her hair pulled up into an elegant bun and the contrast of the deep green of her dress against her warm brown skin.

“Calliope Olson.” Cal stood, just a bit too quickly, and held out a hand first to Kaidan, then to Nat. “Joker talks about you all the time.”

Nat raised one perfectly arched eyebrow as she sat across from Cal. “Does he?”

It had been years since they were together — they were just kids on Arcturus, back then — but damn if it wasn’t suddenly very, very awkward. Repressing the sudden urge to get up and head straight for the bar, Joker shrugged. “What can I say? Cal’s a longtime fan of yours, and I aim to please.” Cal snorted at that, and Nat gave her a pointed, knowing stare; the urge to leave grew, and was accompanied by a rush of heat to his face.

“No, he’s right,” Cal admitted as she recovered from her laughter. “I’ve been following your career since Elysium. You caught my eye after Eden Prime,” she continued, turning towards Kaidan. “The only biotic originally on board, and with the woman who would become the first human Spectre? Of course I was interested.”

The two shared a sidelong glance; Kaidan looked a bit overwhelmed, but Nat seemed to be thoroughly unimpressed. She got recognized far too often for Cal to even phase her. Joker, who was fairly certain that his attempt to disappear into his chair was not working, was nearly prepared to intervene — as much as he loved how excitable Cal could be about everything from Nat to sniper rifles to wheat fields, this was not a good time — but was saved by a waiter bringing their drinks. The conversation lulled, and after a moment Kaidan set down his whiskey and cleared his throat. “So, Calliope, how’d the two of you meet?”

“He doesn’t shut up about you,” Nat interjected, sipping at her water, “but none of us ever really paid attention. ‘I’ve got a girlfriend, she’s just involved with top secret Alliance missions and she’s really hard to get a hold of’ isn’t exactly the most credible story.”

“Just Cal. And well, it was… actually…” She trailed off, giving Joker a look that clearly said help; it was never easy to bring up the two years Nat had been gone, especially for those who hadn’t actually discussed it with her before.

“It was while I was grounded,” he offered, knowing Nat would catch his meaning. “We were at a bar, she asked me to dance, I told her I didn’t feel like breaking a femur.” He shrugged. “Typical meet-cute. You know.”

If Kaidan was shaken by the mention of Nat’s death, he didn’t show it. “Somehow, I don’t have too hard of a time imagining that,” he said dryly, not quite rolling his eyes.

“What about you?” Cal asked, pausing to take a drink of whatever bright pink concoction she’d ordered. “How’d the two of you meet?”

Nat gave a flat, “My father,” at the same time that Kaidan said, “A tech issue.” They both laughed, and Nat explained, “My dad handpicked the original Normandy crew. He chose Kaidan specifically for his biotics, and Joker specifically to piss me off,” she added with a mock glare in his direction. “But actually met face to face? That… yeah, I guess that’s what it was. I had an issue with my omni-tool and Kaidan helped me work it out.”

“That’s so much better than ‘we saved the galaxy and they hooked up.’” Cal emphasized the words with air quotes, tossing a teasing grin in Joker’s direction.

“In my defense, I did try my best to stay out of their way.”

With dinner out of the way — which, if Kaidan were being honest, hadn’t gone as badly as he’d feared it might — the four of them began walking back towards Nat’s apartment. It wasn’t far, and the streets were quiet enough that there wasn’t a need to get a cab. They were in no particular hurry to get back, and Kaidan walked with an arm around Nat’s waist as they made their way through the Strip.

The bright spot of the evening, he thought, had been getting to spend so much time talking and reminiscing about their time on the SR-1, before things had gotten so damn complicated. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, as it were.

He watched as Cal and Joker walked a ways in front of them, hand in hand, laughter occasionally ringing out into the night. Kaidan had known that Nat and Joker had been together, before, but their double date had piqued his curiosity — less about the two of them, and more about Natalie, and how she’d been when she was younger. He wondered if she’d laughed more, back on Arcturus, back before she’d fought her way to hell and back and returned triumphant. Before life had hardened her, before all the scars that he knew so well — the ones he’d once learned and re-learned, after Alchera, and the cybernetics from Cerberus that still sometimes flared up.

Kaidan wouldn’t ever give up the woman Nat had become, but sometimes he still wondered.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Nat observed with a tilt of her head, eyes searching his face.

“Just thinking,” he assured her.

“About?”

“You.” He leaned over to place a light kiss on her forehead, right above her eyebrow, where he knew the bright lights of the Strip hid the soft glow of her cybernetics.

Nat gave a quiet laugh. “You’ve already got me, Kaidan, you don’t have to butter me up.”

“Mm. Let me enjoy it.” He fell silent for a moment, attempting to collect his thoughts; in front of them, Cal stripped off her jacket and tossed it at Joker, following it up with a less-than-subtle innuendo and laughter at his half-hearted protests. She wobbled a bit as she slid out of her heels, tucking them under one arm and falling back into stride with Joker. “It’s just— Do you remember being that… carefree, I guess?”

“No.” Her answer was automatic and unhesitant, but after a few moments she amended, “More than now, maybe, but never entirely. It’s been a long time since I’ve gone without some sort of weight on my shoulders.”

Kaidan’s only response was a thoughtful hmm as he considered all the things that had weighed her down over the years — himself included. He was under no illusion that the state of the galaxy was in any way his fault, but things could’ve perhaps been different if he’d been the one to receive the vision from the beacon on Eden Prime, all those years ago, instead of Nat stepping in because she’d wanted to save him.

But maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe it would always be complicated, and what mattered was being at Nat’s side when those complications arose.

[waytooinvested]

Forgotten, Not Forgiven - Chapter 11

This and previous chapters are also on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Clinical trial for Q-wave brain stimulator.

Trial subject 1. Session 5

First official sleep study: subject agreed to an overnight sleep study, during which two periods of Q-wave treatment are to be applied for 40 minutes each, one commencing during the deep sleep stage and a second at onset of REM sleep.

11.11pm – Deep sleep phase treatment commenced.

11.51pm: First treatment application successfully completed: blurring evidenced on Q-scan slightly extended to 0.7mm

2.07am: Following initial treatment dosage subject was allowed to complete one full sleep cycle at rest, followed by commencement of second treatment application on entering REM sleep

2.19am: Negative effects of Q-waves observed, treatment aborted.

Q-wave brain stimulator trial terminated with immediate effect.

Everything had been proceeding exactly as they had been anticipating. The deep sleep phase had been perfect, and to begin with the REM sleep treatment seemed even more promising, with the blurred patch expanding by 0.4mm within the first seven minutes. Success had seemed inevitable.

Then Lena looked over at Kara and saw the thin ribbon of blood trickling from her nose, and her heart stalled painfully in her chest before thumping back into action at twice its usual pace. She bypassed the dial completely and yanked the plug out of the wall to stop the Q-wave generator, then ran to kneel beside the bed.

‘Kara? Kara, please wake up. Are you okay?’

Kara stirred sleepily, blinking up at her in evident confusion as Lena tugged at the straps and pushed the Q-wave cap off and away with one hand while the other tenderly cradled her head.

‘What is it, did something happen?’

‘Do you feel alright?’

‘Of course, I’m totally fine. I was having the strangest dream though. I was flying, and... I think I was carrying you’.

Lena forced a laugh that might more properly have been called a sob as she remembered saying almost those exact words to Kara after she had been poisoned by Edge.

And after she had saved her life yet again...

It was a piece of real memory, and that Kara had it at all should have been incredible news, but combined with the nosebleed all it did was prove Lex had been serious about the dangers of forcing her to remember.

What if Lena had looked up five minutes later?

What if it had been too late?

Kara could have died tonight because of her.

She could have died.

‘Anyway, I don’t suppose you woke me to hear about my weird subconscious. Is everything alright?’

‘No, I’m afraid it’s not. I’m stopping the trial’.

The bed frame squeaked in protest as Kara sat up abruptly, looking properly alarmed for the first time since her rude awakening.

‘What? No! It’s been going so well, you can’t just stop!’

‘We have to Kara, you had a nose bleed’.

‘Don’t be silly, I never get-’

But the protest died as Kara reached up to touch her face, then examined the smear of red on her fingers.

‘Huh’.

‘I’m so, so sorry, I really thought this was going to be completely safe. I can’t say for sure that it was caused by the Q-waves, but I’m not willing to take that chance. If there is even the slightest possibility that this is hurting you, we are not doing it again’.

‘But it’s only a little one. Couldn’t you just… do some checks on the wave frequency or whatever before we try again? I would feel so awful if you cancel the whole project just because I had one tiny nose bleed, especially when I feel completely fine and it might not even have been caused by what we were doing. Think of all the people you were going to help’.

I was going to help you. That’s all. It was always just you, and now I can’t even do that.

‘No, I just can’t take that risk. I’m sorry Kara, but it’s over. I’ll just- I’ll find another way to continue the work. Come on, we’d better give Alex a call and get you over to the DEO so they can check you out properly’.

It looked like Kara wanted to protest further, but after taking in Lena’s expression for a few moments she apparently decided there was no point, and nodded reluctantly.

‘Alright, if you really think we need to stop, then I trust you. There’s no need to wake up Alex though, she’ll only fuss and there’s nothing wrong with me’.

‘Oh, we’re waking Alex for her sake, not yours. Otherwise she’ll be looking at a life sentence for my murder after she finds out I didn’t tell her about this so she could check you out for herself. What’s a bit of lost sleep compared to that?’

Kara rolled her eyes, a look of fond exasperation on her face that could have been for Alex or Lena or both as she picked up her phone to call her sister.

‘You two are as bad as each other, you know that?’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Kara had been checked out, cleared, and taken back to her apartment, the core task force for Project Atlantis (as Operation-get-our-girl-back had become more formally known) gathered for an emergency meeting to discuss what had just happened. Given that Kara had been cleared medically and was now back in her own home none the wiser this probably could have waited until morning, but when Kara had called Alex, Alex called J’onn, and the others were already en route to the DEO after Nia had seen something troubling in her dream, so they had decided not to wait.

J’onn, Nia, Brainy, Alex, and Lena.

There were a few other agents who knew Supergirl’s identity and therefore part of what they were working on, plus James, who was helping to hold things down at Catco, but the five of them were the only ones who knew everything, and Lena was glad she didn’t have to admit her failure to a bigger audience.

She had already presented the progression of the trial and the hopes she had had for the sleep study, and now went on to explain how it had gone wrong shortly after starting the REM treatment stage. For a long minute everyone was quiet as they examined the scan progressions Lena had just given them, then Alex banged a fist on the table and swore.

‘It was going so well. I really thought we had the answer’.

‘The probabilities looked quite promising, I too am surprised that this happened’.

‘So what do we do now? Do we dial back the treatments? Make them shorter, or less frequent?’

Lena had nodded along in commiseration with Alex and Brainy’s comments, but at J’onn’s contribution she stopped, brows drawing into her boardroom “someone just suggested dangerous cost cutting measures at the children’s hospital” expression.

‘Of course not. This is it for the Q-wave stimulator, I’m terminating the trials effective immediately. I assumed that was implied’.

The nosebleed was proof that her premise had been flawed, and it was sheer luck that the whole thing hadn’t ended up a lot worse than it did.

Kara could have died tonight. She could have died. She could have-

‘I’m not certain that is a logical course of action Lena. My calculations show only a 6.3% chance of further injury to Kara if the sessions return to being carried out while she is conscious, and with greater spacing between-’

Now Brainy too?

‘That is 6.3% too much. I’m sorry, but this is not a debate. It’s my device and I am telling you that I will not let any of you use it on Kara again. If I have to smash it to pieces and destroy the schematic to make sure of it I will not hesitate’.

Alex raised her eyebrows, reaching out towards Lena as if she was going to put a soothing hand on her arm, though she stopped short of actually touching her.

‘Woah, hey, there’s no need for that, we’re all on the same side here. But we don’t have another plan – if we can’t use Q-waves, what are we going to do?’

‘For now, nothing, Kara’s brain needs time to heal from the trauma it’s just experienced. Maybe in a few weeks we can think about trying something new, but until then-’

‘A few weeks?’ Alex interrupted, extended hand withdrawing along with the conciliatory tone. ‘We can’t wait that long. We’re barely holding things together as it is without Supergirl.’

At another time Lena might have been sympathetic, but right now the image of blood running down Kara’s face while she lay apparently unconscious (just sleeping in fact, but the seconds when Lena had been unsure if she would ever wake up again had felt like an eternity) was hovering just behind her eyelids ready to ambush her the moment she closed her eyes, and Alex’s protestation seemed flimsy at best.

Kara could have died tonight.

Lena could have killed her.

The roil of panic she was trying not to acknowledge boiled over, and her reply lashed out like a whip.

‘National City survived for years without superheroes. Are you really telling me that you can’t last a couple more months without your little sister holding your hand?’

Alex slammed both hands down on the table, her own tenuous grip on her composure snapping under the weight of Lena’s goading.

‘DAMN it Lena, this is not about me! Do you realise that Kelly nearly died confronting Malefic? He was seconds away from forcing her to cut her own throat. Seconds. I can’t let that happen again!’

‘And I can’t let you risk hurting Kara to make sure it doesn’t!’

‘You think I want to? She’s my sister, I love her more than almost any other person on the planet, but we have to be realistic. Kara is not the only one in danger here!’

They were both standing now, eyes locked, though Lena wasn’t sure when or how that had happened. If the two of them had been alone they would have fought it out until they had vented what they needed to, then calmed back down enough to figure out a new plan together, but they were not alone. J’onn interrupted their glaring match with a stern throat-clear, looking between them like a disappointed teacher with two unruly pupils.

‘That’s enough, both of you. Will you please sit down so we can discuss this rationally?’

Lena was prepared to ignore him and continue their debate to its conclusion, but after a few more seconds of crackling tension Alex flickered her gaze to J’onn and nodded stiffly, a part of her apparently still reacting to the authority of her former boss. She dropped back into her seat looking partially (though not entirely) chastened, and after a moment Lena followed suit more slowly, schooling her own features to avoid showing any hint of similar emotion herself.

It wasn’t that she didn’t care what happened to Kelly.

She was actually the one person connected to this little group that Lena had not entirely cut contact with after she’d found out about Supergirl, and she liked her very much. It was awful to think that she had so nearly been hurt, and if there was anything Lena could do to keep it from happening again, then she would. But she was a scientist, and a researcher, and she could not in good conscience support the continuation of a trial that would put her subject at a greater level of potential harm than was warranted, especially after having assured them that they would be entirely safe.

And she would not allow Kara to be harmed. Not for anyone. Not even if it meant every other person in the city suffered for it.

‘Thank you. Lena, you may be right about continuing any form of physical intervention at this stage, but Alex is also right that we can’t wait too long to do something. So, I suggest we stop trying to break down the barrier with external force and take a different approach entirely’.

J’onn paused, looking round to check he had everyone’s undivided attention, then continued before anyone (Lena) could raise objections.

‘Sometimes Martian powers will kick in without conscious direction when presented with imminent threat to life, and I think a similar instinctive approach could work for Kara. A survival reflex could bring back her powers without having to pass through her conscious mind, allowing the memories to follow after them once the way had been opened up and avoiding the potentially dangerous weakened pathways created by the Q-wave treatment’.

‘Interesting… Like avoiding the locked door in her mind altogether and instead creating a hitherto undiscovered window. I predict that that course of action would have an 84.2% chance of success’.

There was a beat of silence while Lena waited for J’onn to add something that would make his idea sound more sane, but it appeared he was done speaking.

‘Are you actually suggesting that we should put Kara’s life in danger? That’s your safer plan?’

J’onn raised his hands, fending off the argument they both knew was still simmering just below the surface.

‘Controlled danger. Something we could set up and monitor, and bring her out of if needed. She wouldn’t be at any real risk’.

Controlled danger.

Inducing hypothermia until Kara’s muscles gave up shivering and her heart slowed and eventually stopped.

Pressing on her throat to make her fight for air, her eyes wild with terror as she tried to free herself of the constriction.

Submerging her in water and watching her thrash and struggle, breaking the surface only to be drawn back under without having managed to take a breath, water replacing air in her lungs until at last she went limp and sank out of sight, just like-

‘NO’.

Her muscles tensed, ready to jump to her feet again, but Alex broke in before she could manage more than that single, reactive syllable of negation. It was probably lucky that she did, because for all her years of social training, Lena wasn’t at all sure her own response would have been as measured as Alex’s.

‘Sorry J’onn but I’m going to have to side with Lena on this one. We need Supergirl back, but we can’t take the chance on something going wrong with that plan. Even if we made some artificial danger that we could fully control, if it was real enough for survival instincts to kick in, it would also be real enough that something could go really badly wrong. Besides, that still leaves a 15.8% chance of failure for a plan that would be seriously traumatic to Kara, and that is way too high’.

‘It doesn’t have to be real danger. If we put Kara into a simulation-’

‘That doesn’t negate the trauma of thinking she’s dying!’

Lena’s volume was creeping up again, but she managed not to actually shout.

‘Maybe not, but Supergirl is tougher than you’re giving her credit for, and we can’t afford to take a kid glove approach on this one. Kara would want us to try it if it meant reducing the risk to the rest of National City caused by her absence’.

‘Kara has no idea what’s going on, so she can’t really express an informed opinion right now, can she?’

‘Exactly. That’s why we have to make a decision based on what she would want us to do. You’ve worked with Supergirl before, when have you ever known her to choose her own safety over someone else’s?’

J’onn had a point. The Kara Lena thought she had known was someone who had needed her protection, who had stood behind her when danger threatened and let her take the lead. It had made her feel strong, protective, trusted to keep her friend safe, and that trust made her believe she really could be an immovable object between Kara and whatever threatened them, no matter how bad things got. Now she realised with a pang that Kara’s attempts to hide were in reality her trying to slip away to return as Supergirl, and whenever she had she had immediately put her own body between Lena’s and the source of danger, and Lena had let her. Of course she had. Supergirl was the girl of steel.

But right now she was just Kara, and whether she wanted them to or not, all of those old protective instincts surged at the idea of standing back and allowing her to be killed, even if it was only in a simulation.

Lena folded her arms and stared steadily back at J’onn.

‘Well then. Maybe it’s time someone made the decision for Kara that she would make for them.’

‘Maybe… but I think you’re wrong about what that would be.’

She laughed, but there was no humour in it.

‘You’re telling me that Kara wouldn’t keep the truth from someone to protect them, whether they would have chosen that for themselves or not. You’re telling me that.’

J’onn had the grace to look uncomfortable, but he still didn’t rise to the provocation.

‘This situation is different from Kara choosing not to tell you about her Kryptonian identity.’

‘Yes, it is. Because finding out the truth wouldn’t have fucking KILLED me!’

‘No one is going to let that happen!’

‘You literally just suggested that we should try that exact thing and hope that the barrier breaks in time for Kara to save herself. Tell me J’onn. Would you be saying the same thing if it was Alex’s life? If she lost part of her memory, and the fastest way to get it back also risked giving her a major stroke or a fatal brain hemorrhage, would you do it? Or would you decide that a kid glove approach might be better if we were talking about someone other than Supergirl?’

‘Lena, that’s not f-’ Alex started to protest, so Lena snapped her attention to her instead.

‘How about if it was Kelly? Right now Kara is more vulnerable than a human, so you can’t argue that we should push ahead because she’s Kryptonian and her body can take it. It can’t. Not right now. So would you risk leaving Kelly brain dead for the sake of a few weeks? Brainy, how about you? Would you think a 6.3% chance of killing Nia was acceptable? Or you Nia, if it was Brainy? I know things are difficult in the city right now, but the world is not in immediate danger, and Kara is safe like this.’

There was utter silence around the table, so thick it would have taken a machete to cut through it. Nobody quite met Lena’s eyes.

‘You’ve made your point Lena’. Alex finally said in a subdued voice, fists clenching and unclenching on the table before her.

‘You’re right. We’re used to Kara being physically a lot stronger than she is right now, and we need to take that into account with whatever plan we make. Maybe we should to go right back to the beginning and look over all the test results again – see if there’s anything we missed the first time round and-’

‘Um… Alex? Maybe I could try something else first?’

Everyone turned to Nia, who until now had been silently watching the argument pinging from Alex to Lena to J’onn and back round again like it was a game of ice hockey.

‘What are you thinking Nia?’ Alex asked.

‘Well, I’m not sure, but maybe there’s a way I could reach Supergirl through Kara’s dreams. It would be less direct than the Mind space because dreams aren’t supposed to be literal, it’s all more vague and symbolic there, so she might fight it less. Plus what Lena told us about the flying dream shows that maybe that’s where the cracks are going to appear’.

‘Oh.. yeah, you could be onto something!’

‘An excellent proposal Nia’.

‘I agree, that could be a good compromise’.

They all looked at Lena, waiting to see if she was going to object to this plan too in spite of everyone else’s support for it. And to be honest, she would have been more comfortable continuing to approach the problem with science rather than something as wishy washy and unpredictable as “magic”. But then… so would Lex. He would be much more likely to anticipate and plan for anything she could do with science than Nia’s dream powers, especially when even Nia didn’t entirely understand how they worked. It was by far the best option on the table at the moment, even if it did mean she was going to have to trust Kara’s treatment and welfare to somebody who wasn’t her.

That part was going to be a wrench after all this time feeling so sure she could crack it, but in a way it was also a relief. For the last few weeks Lena had not so much been burning the candle at both ends as throwing the candle into the centre of a blazing fire and keeping it from melting up entirely by sheer force of bloody mindedness. Between working on the Q-wave stimulator, keeping L-Corp running and spending more time than ever with Kara as part of Project Atlantis, not to mention check in meetings with the rest of the task force, it had been weeks since she had had a full night of unbroken sleep, and that was starting to take its toll. She sighed.

‘I’m in too. But if we’re going ahead I think Alex or I should be there during the sessions so we can keep an eye on Kara and bring her out immediately if she starts showing dangerous symptoms. Sorry Nia, it’s not that I don’t trust you to take care of her, but if you’re in a dream state you might not be so aware of what’s going on physically’.

‘Sure, I’d be fine with one of you two being there – it might be easier to explain as a group thing anyway’.

Around the table shoulders visibly relaxed as the tension eased, and the general mood finally began to shift to something more hopeful – optimistic even – as they started discussing how Dreamer should approach the task. Now that their course was decided Lena sat back and let the conversation go on around her, half listening but making no attempt to direct the flow, or even step into it. It wasn’t like she knew much about powers in any case, and she needed a minute to collect herself after what had just happened.

In the heat of the argument she hadn’t cared what bridges she was burning or what the fallout from that might be just as long as she was keeping Kara from being hurt, but now it was over she felt slightly... unbalanced by the experience. She wasn’t sorry that she had stood up against the suggestion that they should suffocate Kara for her own good (or whatever other ridiculously dangerous alternative J’onn would have come up with), but had to admit, if only to herself, that the way she had gone about it might not have been entirely prudent. Because she wasn’t the top-of-the-food-chain CEO here, whose word had to be obeyed by the majority of the people she came into contact with whether they liked it or not. In fact, now that they no longer needed her technology she wasn’t really anything to this group, and the idea that they might realise as much and drop her from the project made bands of panic tighten around her chest all over again.

She couldn’t walk away from this now. She was in too deep for that. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet.

Not to Kara, but not to the rest of them either, because somewhere along the way she had stopped thinking of these people as adversaries she was forced to partner with to achieve a shared goal, and started to think of them as… something else. People that she cared about, and whose company she would miss if it suddenly disappeared from her life.

The hours she spent with Brainy working through technical details and swapping jargon-based humour that no one around them understood.

The coffee breaks with Nia when she and Dreamer both had cause to be at the DEO Headquarters, and the conversations they had that had begun, very lightly, to touch on families and the otherness that both of them experienced in their own different ways.

The camaraderie with Alex and mutual needling that increasingly felt like their own private in-jokes, and the fact that despite all the teasing (and even sometimes fighting), she was the first person Lena wanted to call when something well wrong with Project Atlantis, because Alex cared about Kara as deeply as she did.

Even J’onn, despite a somewhat awkward beginning, was becoming a respected colleague that Lena could almost forget had also posed as her best friend while she opened up about her love life and family insecurities…

Alright, that last one still stung, but they had been making progress. She didn’t want to just throw it all away now, no matter that that was exactly what she would have to do sooner or later, when Kara got her memories back.

‘Lena?’

She blinked back into the room, chagrined to have been caught zoning out just when she most needed to justify her presence here.

‘Sorry Alex, what did you say?’

‘I just asked if you could make next Monday instead of Thursday for the next Atlantis meeting’.

‘Oh-’ She was still in then. For now at least. ‘-Yes. I might need to move a couple of things around, but I can make Monday work, definitely’.

That meant there would be a few extra days until the next meeting, and Lena resolved to spend them (or as much of them as wasn’t already taken up by L-Corp) proving that she could still be a valuable asset to the project. Somewhat regretfully she let go of the extra couple of hours sleep per night that she had promised herself following the end of the Q-wave trials, and instead allocated the time to the study of dream interpretation. Because while it was true that Lena was just about as unmagical as it was possible for a person to be, she was excellent at research, and there was bound to be something in the established body of peer-reviewed literature that would begin to explain the mechanics of Nia’s power. If she could only find it then they would be able to take a scientific approach to determining the right way for Dreamer to get through to Supergirl, and that was something Lena could do in her sleep. The bands around her chest loosened, and she took what felt like her first full breath since she had looked up to see Kara’s blood staining her pillow.

‘How long do you think before you’re ready to get started Nia?’

Is there time for me to express ship some pertinent reading material from overseas, or should I only look locally?

‘Well, there is one snag I’m going to have to work out first... It turns out that Kara doesn’t actually know that I’m Dreamer anymore. That memory must have been pretty tied up with her own identity as Supergirl, and she has just blocked the whole thing out. So. I think before I can start on any of this stuff, I’m going to have to come out to Kara’.