#like this from the man who won’t stop talking about hunting david/owning people

[milogoestogreendale]

im so obsessed with the framing of the brad/anna scene. why are they so far apart??? it has to be intentional. the way it’s weirdly intimate but somehow not overtly romantic?? the way they don’t say anything outright but leave things to implication???

[luminnara]

God Damn, Shit Sucking Vampires | Poly lost boys x oc CH 9

(oops no gif because the ones i want won’t upload right now)

Just as a reminder, lost boys requests are OPEN!

Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

Tags:  @americancowgirl19 @ilikechocolatemilkh

Warnings: Blood, gore, vampire things

Hearing a strange voice in her head nearly drove Vera into a panic. When she realized she was hearing Max, she nearly flew into a second panic, the sire’s strong, firm voice only reassuring her that all of her fears were correct and he wasn’t going to like her very much. 

As she walked along the beach, bare toes sinking into the sand, Dwayne at her side, Vera briefly wondered how hard it would be to kill Max if it came down to a struggle. Did she have a chance against him? Maybe, if she stooped low enough to cry for her own sire, he would come and take care of it—

“Hey, chill out,” Dwayne said, stopping and turning towards her slightly. “What’s wrong?”

She realized she had halted and was simply standing there, staring at nothing as her mind raced. He could probably feel how freaked out she was getting, and as she looked at him, she found a gentle, understanding expression on his face. 

“C’mere,” he said, his voice low and rumbly and comforting. 

He opened his arms in invitation and she dove right in, moving quickly and desperately enough that she knocked him right onto his ass. He landed in the sand with a laugh, situating the two of them so that she could sit in his lap and they could face the dark, never ending ocean. 

“Did Max freak you out?” Dwayne asked as Vera tucked her head under his chin. 

“...a little.” 

“Why?”

She sighed. Something about Dwayne made her feel so safe that she was actually considering talking with him about things she hadn’t even told David yet. “Because I’m not used to this. I’m used to vampires who want me out of their territory the second I even get close, and I can’t really blame them.”

“This is your territory, too.” He said. “You’re the one who’ll be kicking people out of it now.”

“I don’t think Max is going to like me.” She grumbled. 

“Why not?”

She was quiet for a moment, fiddling with the zipper of his jacket. “Because he’ll see me as a threat.”

“Max isn’t like that.”

“You’re just saying that now because he’s your sire.”

“No, I’m saying it because I mean it.” Dwayne rested his cheek on the top of her head, his hand absentmindedly rubbing circles on her back. “Max wants a family. Now you’re part of that family.”

He sounded so sure of his own words that Vera was actually feeling inclined to believe him for a moment. “Parents don’t tend to like me.”

“Anyone who can handle having Paul in their pack can handle you.”

She scoffed. “He isn’t that bad.”

“Maybe to you.” Dwayne chuckled. He tightened his arms around her when he realized that his jokes weren’t very reassuring. “Max is a good man. A good sire.”

“Why?” Vera asked. “What does he do that makes you like him so much?”

“Well,” Dwayne situated them a bit better, getting more comfortable. “He’s fair. He acts stern, but...he sees himself as our father.”

“Don’t they always?” Vera grumbled. 

“He calls David his prodigal son, but he always wanted a whole family. He ended up with the four of us.”

“So, what? He plucked you all up out of the gutter and that makes him a good guy?”

“Why are you so determined to hate him?”

“I’m not!” she protested. “I’m just...wary.”

“Max gave us new lives.” Dwayne sighed. “He found us back in San Francisco after we got ourselves in some trouble with another vampire.”

Vera had to snort in amusement at that. “Seriously? Who’d you pick a fight with? Dracula?”

“Well…”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

He flashed her a smile. “How were we supposed to know who he was?”

“Humans really have no self preservation instincts, do they?”

“Apparently not.” Dwayne chuckled, squeezing her. 

“How long ago was it?”

“1906, same year as that big earthquake. Tore the whole city apart...it was the perfect time for four vampires to start learning how to survive, with all that chaos. People were dead, more were missing...nobody noticed a few more disappearing here and there.”

“Is that why Max and, uh...Vlad were there?” Vera asked. 

“I imagine.” Dwayne shrugged. “We resisted at first. David was especially pissed off.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Vera laughed quietly. 

“But...we took to the lifestyle pretty quickly.”

“And that’s that?” Vera asked. 

“That’s that.” he shrugged. “Max wants to be a father figure. He turned David because he wanted a son, and he taught him everything he knew. Then, he decided David needed companions, and he happened to find me not long after. Then the others. Max isn’t a bad guy, Vera. You’ll see.”

“That’s what everybody says about their own sire.” she said, looking out at the black waves as they crashed against the sand just a few feet in front of her. “Everyone wants to talk their sires up, because without them, we’re nothing. Just because your own sire is nice to you doesn’t mean he’ll be nice to me.”

“What’s so bad about your own that you think ours is so awful?”

The question hung in the air for a moment, Vera’s mouth pressing into a thin line. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Dwayne opened his eyes, rubbing his cheek over the top of her head affectionately. 

“I’m not.”

“I know that you are, though.”

Vera let out a frustrated noise, then heaved a sigh. Maybe talking about this could be good for her. Maybe verbalizing thoughts and fears that she’d been living with for centuries could finally help her get over them...and if anyone was a good listener, it would be Dwayne. 

“Okay, fine.” she said. “What’s so bad about my sire? Everything. Everything is what’s bad about him, literally.”

“Where’s he from?” Dwayne asked. 

“The old country. Like...the old old country.”

“Why are you so reluctant to talk about him?” Dwayne’s voice was low and gentle, barely audible over the sound of the waves. 

“Because he’s got a reputation.” she fiddled with the hem of her shorts. “Most older vampires know of him. You guys might not, and if we had a different situation, I’d say it should stay that way.”

“That serious, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

“Hmm.” Dwayne’s chest rumbled. “The others should hear about this, too.”

“Yeah, they should.” she sighed again, her voice small. She felt small in general, all curled up in Dwayne’s lap like that. Small and helpless. She wasn’t, though, and she didn’t want them to think that she was. So she cleared her throat, trying to muster as much confidence as she could, ignoring the mild twisting in her gut. “I’ll tell you guys everything tomorrow night.”

Dwayne made a small, impatient sound. 

“Max will want to hear, too.”

“That’s a good point,” he admitted. “You know, I still need to hunt for you…”

Vera perked up slightly. The thought of food made the tight feeling in her chest loosen up slightly, and she looked at Dwayne eagerly. “Yes, please.”

He laughed, wrapping his arms around her as he stood and set her back on her feet. “Then let’s go find some snacks, Princess.”

-0-

“You know, we don’t have to do this. We could just go back to the cave--”

“What happened to that tough attitude you had a few days ago?” David raised an eyebrow, looking amused as he pulled Vera off the back of his bike.

“I’m still tough,” she growled, knowing that he could very easily feel how nervous she was. 

“Come on, babe,” Paul parked his bike next to David’s and bounded over to her. “You’ll be fine.”

“We’d never let anything happen to ya,” Marko said, following Paul. 

Vera knew he was telling the truth, but it didn’t make her feel any better. She had barely slept the entire day, waking up restless and on edge as soon as the sun disappeared, and it had taken a good deal of coaxing from David to even get her to leave the roost. They took Star and Laddie to the boardwalk, dropped them off with some cash, and then headed off to Max’s house.

David told Vera along the way that Star and Laddie weren’t allowed to know where Max lived. They really weren’t allowed to know anything about him in general, in order to protect him, so when the pack walked up to the front gate of their sire’s home, it was only the four boys who accompanied Vera. She didn’t mind; having Star around would have only put her more on edge, probably, and she had been glad to leave the halfling behind. 

As she faced the gated bridge that led to Max’s completely normal-looking, Californian home, Vera did everything she could to act confident. She squared her shoulders, held her chin up, and pretended that she had nothing to worry about...but the boys could see right through the facade, and as they joined her, they all fell into a little formation. In moments, Vera was surrounded by them, David offering his arm while the others stepped into their spots behind. It made her feel better, knowing that they were all there to protect her...but at the same time, she still wished they were all out wandering the boardwalk. 

“So brave,” David sneered as she took his arm. 

“Shut up.” she growled, vaguely aware of Dwayne’s hand on her lower back. 

“Relax,” Marko purred. 

“Don’t you dare tell me to relax, Marko, I swear—“

The barking of a rapidly approaching dog interrupted her, the sound of paws thumping rhythmically against the wooden walkway drawing her attention away from the boys. A big white hellhound was barreling towards the gate, all teeth and rage, and although it looked like it wanted to tear her limbs off, the sight of such a beast made Vera temporarily forget why she was so anxious. Even as it barked and snarled and threw itself against the gate, she thought that it was absolutely adorable.

“Oh, look at you!” She squealed as the boys all jumped back. When she took a step forward, David tried to yank her towards him, but she slipped away easily, too focused on this hellhound to care. 

“You’re such a big handsome boy,” she said, in a voice that made Paul jealous. 

“No fair,” he grumbled, crossing his arms. “Why’s the dumb dog get all that?”

Marko glanced at the taller blond nervously. “Don’t call him dumb, you remember what happened last time?”

Paul groaned, rolling his eyes at the memory of nearly losing a hand. 

The dog stopped barking as Vera approached, falling silent as it sniffed the air around her. The vicious look on its face was gone, replaced by curiosity, and when Vera ignored David’s irritated warnings and reached over the gate to pet it, the animal whined. 

“You must be Thorn,” Vera cooed, scratching behind its ears. “What a big, brave, hell-y hellhound you are, yes you are!”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Paul said as he watched. 

“What?” Vera asked, looking over her shoulder at him. 

“Thorn doesn’t like any of us.” Marko huffed. “Why’s he like you so much?”

“Well...he can probably smell my sire on me,” Vera said. “Might remind him of home. Hellhounds usually like me because of that.”

“...Home?” Paul asked. 

“I’ll tell you later.”

“But I wanna know now!” he whined.

Thorn growled at him. 

“Thorn!” a male voice called from the other end of the little bridge. 

Vera immediately stiffened. The front door of the house had opened, and in it stood a man, wearing a very stylish suit and horn rimmed glasses. Thorn heeded his master’s call, giving Paul one last woof before trotting back towards Max. His departure freed the front gate, and David brushed past Vera to open it, taking her hand and leading the gang across the walkway. 

“Boys,” Max greeted as they approached him. He offered David a stern smile, one which David didn’t return, and when Max’s eyes fell upon Vera all tucked up against his side, his eyes narrowed slightly. “And you must be Vera.”

She didn’t like that he knew her name. It was inevitable that he’d find out what it was, but still...she kept clinging to the hope that maybe, he wouldn’t learn too much about her. The boys seemed so convinced that Max was just an annoying father, but as Vera took him in, she could see that behind the trendy, 80s-dad facade, there was an old, powerful vampire, and those were the kind she didn’t get along with very well. 

“Well, come in, everyone, before dinner gets cold. I made sure to get all your favorites, boys.” Max stepped to the side, inviting them over the threshold in a very courteous way, one that suggested he had nothing to fear from the boys or Vera.

“You shouldn’t have,” David sneered sarcastically as he walked in. 

“Would it kill you to be nice?” Vera hissed. 

He rolled his eyes.

Max noticed the exchange with a bemused expression on his face. “Go on in and sit down. The table’s already set.”

The house was nice. It wasn’t incredibly extravagant, by any means, but it was perfectly well decorated, modern art that Vera didn’t quite know how to appreciate hanging on the walls. Everything was clean and organized, not a speck of dust in sight, as opposed to the state of decay the boys kept their lair in. Max seemed to enjoy playing the role of a video store owner, and his home reflected that; if anyone came to visit, they wouldn’t see a single item out of place, nor would they have any reason to be suspicious of him. There were no torture devices, no loose vials of blood sitting around, no skulls or human skin nailed up. It looked so...normal. 

Vera almost stopped to wonder why exactly she was so nervous...and then she heard the whimpering.

“Geez, Max,” Paul remarked as they rounded the corner and entered the dining room, “you really shouldn’t have.”

“Well, fresh caught is always the best,” Max said. “Don’t you agree?”

“Hell yeah,” Marko growled, lips pulled back in a grin. 

The dining room table was covered in an array of meats, from a suckling pig in the center to a rack of ribs at the end. Six chairs surrounded the feast, plates and cutlery set out at each spot, with big glass goblets already half full of blood ready and waiting. Next to each chair stood a human, frozen due to both fear and Max’s vampire magic, a couple of them shaking and considerably more conscious than the others. 

Max walked to his place at the head of the table, Thorn at his side as he took his seat. David sat at the far end, facing him, his eyes dark and hungry as he held himself back. Dwayne sat at David’s left side, Vera at his right, while Paul and Marko took the remaining two chairs and tried not to completely lose their minds. They were shaking almost as much as the humans were, Paul looking at his blood donor eagerly while Marko held a little sneer on his face that suggested he was about ten seconds from ripping his apart.

“Dig in, everyone,” Max said, taking his cloth napkin and tucking it into his shirt collar. “But please try not to make a mess. There’s more than enough here for each of you.”

David immediately grabbed the arm of his meal, sinking his fangs in and taking a drink while Max preferred to drain his into the goblet he had set out for himself. Vera could only watch, stunned, as the carnage began, and before long, she was joining in. The human Max had caught for her was a middle aged clergyman, and she had to tear through his holy sleeve to get to his flesh. 

She didn’t mind, though; she very rarely ever got to eat members of the clergy. They were generally too much work to hunt down, and since she had an aversion to churches, well...like most vampires, she tended to leave them alone. It was hard to nab them without making a spectacle and letting the entire town know that something was amiss. So, all things considered, a little bit of extra work involving a mouthful of fabric was worth it. This was like a special treat for her, and she couldn’t help but drain him all in one go, still holding on even after he had collapsed in a bloodless heap on the floor. 

When she looked up, she realized that Max was watching her. 

“So,” he said, speaking over the hellish sounds of the others slurping up their meals, “I believe some congratulations are in order. Welcome to the family, Vera.”

She swallowed her last mouthful of blood and looked at him. “Uh...thanks. I-I mean, thank you.”

Max picked up his silverware, cutting a slice of ham for himself. “Where are you from, Vera?”

“I wander,” she said, following suit and stabbing her fork into a raw steak. 

“I’ve surmised that much,” Max chuckled good-naturedly. “I meant where are you from originally.”

“...oh.” She cleared her throat somewhat awkwardly. “Italy.”

“Italy!” Max exclaimed. “Such a lovely region. I haven’t visited The Mediterranean since I left the old country myself. If I didn’t have the shop here, perhaps I’d take a trip...have you been back recently?”

“No,” she crossed and uncrossed her legs, trying to act like she wasn’t fidgeting. She took a bite of her steak, focusing on the blood as it trickled down her throat. 

Max reached for his goblet, raising the blood to his lips and taking a drink. “And your sire, is he still in Europe?”

Vera almost choked on her food. 

By this point, the boys were all watching. Paul was licking blood off his lips while Marko still had his dinner’s forearm in his mouth, but David and Dwayne were both focused solely on the conversation at hand, their eyes narrowed slightly as they listened. 

When she realized that everyone was waiting, Vera coughed into her fist, clearing her throat. “Y-yes, he is.”

Max’s eyes darkened, despite the smile on his face. “You know you need to tell me about him, Vera.”

“There’s not much to tell,” she lied, turning back to her steak. “Just an ancient vampire, out there in the old country. Not very exciting.”

“Exciting or not, I’d still prefer to know who he is.” Max said. 

She shrugged, reaching for her glass to take a nervous drink. “I doubt you’d know him.”

“When you drink that blood, you’ll be joining our family.”

She froze, hand on the stem of the glass.

“I’m sure your sire will be able to feel it. I’d hate to be rude and not even know his name in the event he visits one day.”

Vera stared at the blood—Max’s blood—as her fingers tightened around the stem. “You don’t want him to visit.”

“Oh?” Max asked, appearing as relaxed as ever. “Why not?”

“Because of who he is.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “And what he can do.”

Dwayne and David glanced at each other. 

When Max spoke again, his voice was softer, gentler than before. “What is your sire’s name, Vera?”

With a great deal of effort, she opened her eyes again, still staring into the blood rather than at any of them. 

“Asmodeus.” She said. “My sire is Asmodeus.”

[whump-town]

Was Hotch Abused?

I offer you my 2,300+ worded thoughts on the matter with episodes included. There's going to be lots and lots of talk about abuse so you're going to want to steer clear of that if that's something you're not cool with but for those of you interested... I give you all the proof I could think of:

Natural Born Killer.

In the eighth episode of the first season, “Natural Born Killer”, we meet Vincent Perrotta. His father was abusive but from the outside looking in, no one knew a thing. Perrotta started drinking at fourteen and committed petty crimes, as well as assault, for pleasure. Going as far as to kill his own father not too long after. But Perrotta is a monster and a psychopath so it’s clear we’re not supposed to sympathize which makes his interaction with Hotch so peculiar.

Hotch is our “Captain America”. A true neutral with an infinity for doing what’s right so it’s inconceivable to compare him to Perrotta and yet Hotch gives us some rather conflicting lines to dissect.

Before Gideon hands the interview over to Hotch, he spends a moment talking with the others out in the bullpen. The whole time he’s leaned back and he’s watching Morgan and Hotch. Now, at this point, we don’t know about the sexual abuse Derek Morgan faced at the hands of Carl Buford but there’s something about the way that Gideon spends the entirety of the conversation only looking at the two of them. Waiting for them to put together what he clearly already has and when Hotch does…

Hotch jumps straight into Perrotta’s profile, asking: “You grew up in a house that looked normal and happy, didn’t you Vincent?”, “But your father beat you every chance he got”

Perrotta excuses it with a shrug, “he smacked me around some, didn’t everybody’s old man?”

Abuse is a complicated thing and, often, abused children just don’t know what their parents are doing to them is abuse. It can be a subtle and outright thing but there’s an element of normalcy to it. The parent’s abuse is as habitual, as minimal as biting your nails to the child. Adults often can’t identify their parent’s past abuse.

With Hotch you learn that his lack of expression is often as telling as his expressions and as Hotch looks back at Perrotta, there’s something so sad about his eyes. His voice goes from loud, assertive to his whispered answer to Perrotta’s question. “No.” As if, well, maybe that’s a question he’d raised once too.

Perrotta doesn’t care about that though and he taunts “well, maybe if yours had you would have learned to fight”. But is it not more telling that Hotch didn’t make a sound? Perrotta got in several hits and the only sound Hotch made was when the wind was literally punched out of him. Not even when Gideon called to him and at that point, Perrotta did not the garrote around Hotch’s throat. That’s another thing mentioned before in the profile and something Hotch mentions to Perrotta directly. You learn to take the beatings, smile even. So, it’s just a little odd how little Hotch responded…

But that’s all nothing, you can take that how you want

Which leads us to the fateful, not everyone comment.

"You were just responding to what you learned, Vincent. When you grow up in an environment like that, an extremely abusive and violent household... it's not surprising that some people grow up to become killers"

That can’t mean NOTHING, there’s so much there but there’s something about Hotch’s subtle wording. The way he’s unconsciously slipped himself in there (a very real thing that people do) and he hasn’t even realized it. Doesn’t even know he’s done it until Perrotta pushes and he pauses, asks what Perrotta means. And the subtly of it, the way he doesn’t even mean to that says more than anything else.

“And some people grow up to catch them.”

It’s a super-specific comment to make. He can’t possibly be talking about Derek because he doesn’t even know about Carl Buford yet not to mention saying that about him would be incredibly rude if he were talking about Reid (and again, he doesn’t know about Reid’s childhood yet). So… that really only leaves him because JJ, Garcia, and Elle were not abused.

“P911”

In season two, episode two “P911” the team is hunting down a man trying to sell a young boy, Peter, on the black market. Kevin Rose is an underage boy “selling” himself on the internet while his abusive father has been in prison. I’ll let you just guess who it is that leads the team on finding out more about Kevin.

Your guess is more than likely right-- Morgan and Hotch. Now, we know about Morgan but come on. Nothing to say about it being Hotch who makes the emotional appeal?

The camera even follows his gaze, he’s crouched down (to appear non-threatening because he’s so close) and we watch his eyes take in the scars on Kevin’s chest. You can also note that while Gideon remarks that Kevin’s father was “always drunk, you never knew why he was hurting you, why he was so angry” both Kevin and Hotch look away from him.

AND FUCKING TRY AND TELL ME THE “some grow up to catch them” LINE WAS NOTHING TRY BECAUSE GUESS WHAT GIDEON SAYS? NO, NO GUESS--

Gideon: “At night you’d cry yourself to sleep hoping someone would come and save you”

And it’s HOTCH, HOTCH IS THE ONE TO SAY: “You have the chance to be the one who saves someone, Kevin. You can be the one who answers him, the one who stops his pain.”

PARALLELS PEOPLE THE PARALLELS

“Profiler, Profiled”

I bet you weren’t expecting this one, huh? But there’s something about people who faced trauma that makes it so perceptible to other traumatized people-- they sniff it out like coke to a drug hound. And, just guess, who it is that spends the majority of his time fighting with Morgan? Who knows (like I said about the bloodhound) immediately there is something Morgan’s hiding.

Hotch is angry, he’s upset that Morgan would hide anything. Mumbling about there being “larger implications” and how the team can’t have secrets. With the knowledge of exactly what that secret is it makes Gideon’s eye roll a little telling. Because it’s like they both know but neither will say. Driven home by Gideon turning the attention to Hotch, asking “would you want us profiling you?”

And again Hotch is the one to leap onto the abuse. The one to put the pieces together. Hotch’s anger makes no sense. He says he’s angry that Derek’s keeping a secret but the team has many, way too many. Over the years the team unwraps all kinds of secrets, he’s never angry then. So, it’s not about the implication of a secret at all. It’s what the secret is, like misplaced anger. Anger with himself may be leftover from his own abuse. But still…

Hotch lets Morgan escape. Knows exactly who and what Carl Buford is but all he tells the team is that “he won’t even speak about him”. He always knows how to find the abuse… like I said, a bloodhound.

George Foyet

I know you’re going to find this so fucking surprising but guess who also was abused? George Foyet was beaten by his biological father and his mother didn’t save him so he hates women (bleh, men are disgusting what’s knew).

Now, blah, blah, blah Hannah, I know you’re not about to say Foyet and Hotch are a lot alike-- no of course not. Don’t be silly. What I’m going to say is that they’re foil characters? They accent one another in an opposites sort of way. Foyet is a manipulative narcissist who doesn’t work well with others. Hotch is a guilt-ridden team leader who can’t let The Reaper’s case go. There are meant to be comparisons drawn between them. A good villain does that. George Foyet shows us that Hotch is not at all this removed, cool guy that we’ve previously assumed him to be. He cries in an alley because he blames himself when The Reaper kills a busload of people.

We see he has a rather compulsive nature. He never let The Reaper case go and has very personal ties in this case. Not even after Foyet attacks him, if anything it’s worse. He brings the case file home.

But it’s certainly interesting to see yet another “villain” with that same tragic abusive father and submissive mother come into play with Hotch. We’re nearing a point where it’s getting hard to call it coincidence (and according to David Rossi, there simply is not such thing).

Haunted.

In the second episode of the fifth season, “Haunted”, Hotch voice’s over a Dickinson quote: “One need not be a chamber to be haunted, One need not be a house; The brain has corridors surpassing. Material place.” These quotes are often cheesy, if not a little cliché, but given the premise of this episode is in exploring the ways in which a man’s traumatic childhood has left him now grappling for a truth he can not define… well, maybe we can say the writers were onto something here.

Darrin Call, debatably the Unsub of “Haunted”, was abused by an alcoholic father. We see several signs of it throughout the episode-- Darrin’s delayed speech & severe neglect that leaves Darrin in dirty, hole-riddled clothing. If what we see is not enough, the reports that the team is given on Darrin explicitly state that he was extremely physically abused. It is this abuse that leads to the PTSD that he’s diagnosed with.

As sad and disheartening as Darrin Call’s life is, overall it’s the sort of episode that is forgotten over time. When it’s placed right after the episode that viewers have to watch Hotch say goodbye to Haley and Jack then, who is Darrin Call when compared to the agony of watching Hotch show genuine weakness? After watching Hotch lay in a hospital bed, tears in his eyes wondering if his son will remember him? His fears become our own and after watching George Foyet disarm and mutilate the one guy we’ve been led to believe for five seasons is infallibly, unflinchingly never going to break… well, Darrin Call has it bad but our focus is elsewhere.

It’s on Hotch, right?

The guy who is coming back to the job after only a month (and a day) off to recover. Who Morgan worries might have PTSD but he knows they can’t easily measure because Hotch wrote the questionnaire, he knows all the right answers. Who we see has had new locks installed since the attack and has Foyet’s file sitting open on a table for easy access. Who hears Darrin Call’s life (worked the same job without promotion for years before getting fired, no wife, no kids, a hermit) and bluntly asks why Darrin hasn’t just killed himself.

And let’s just take a moment to break down that comment. Hotch, who in the episode previously lost his wife and child, wants to know why a man who is steadily starting to sound a lot like him hasn’t just killed himself.

And I don’t say “sounds a lot like him” lightly.

Darrin Call has PTSD. Hotch, more than likely, has PTSD

Here are some signs just from that episode: hostility (he yelled at Garcia over something very small), self-destructive behavior (he ran into Darrin Call’s father’s house without a vest, back-up, or telling the other’s what he was doing), and guilt (blamed himself for missing the eye twitching Darrin exhibited because of his years of antipsychotic use)

Darrin Call was abused… this marks the second HEAVILY implied time that Hotch has been compared to another man abused by his father

Vincent Perrotta was the first with that hard to forget the exchange

George Foyet and his notably exactly the same past as Perrotta

“Haunted” feels like it’s supposed to prove to the audience that Hotch is losing it. He distances himself from Morgan, leaving every room that Morgan is in. He doesn’t pick up Garcia’s calls after Darrin Call attacks his therapist. The only glimpse we see of the old Hotch is with Emily, pulled to the side, but his guilt burns and he even brushes her off. Shaking his head and turning his back to her because somehow he should have seen something no one else did.

Throw in Reid’s comment about Call “victims are often drawn to the scene of their first trauma” and we’re painfully reminded of Hotch’s apartment. A place you’d think he’d want to escape but didn’t. The man was stabbed nine times in his own apartment and stayed in that same place. Almost sounds like that statement could be applied to Hotch too.

A dash of Hotch’s own comment about where Call would go to in his confusion and he says “to what he knows”, even the importance of how that orphanage is “where he became Darrin Call”. Where does Hotch go? What does Hotch know? The job.

So… we tally now three total Unsubs that Hotch has this direct relationship with. Three Unsubs with abusive fathers and mothers who couldn’t protect them. Hmm… coincidence?

Brothers Hotchner

Supervisor Special Agent Hotchner is a master of hiding, that is undeniable. It’s hard to see anything behind those furrowed brows and impersonal suits and that’s likely for a reason. However, anyone with a little sibling can tell you that no one on this Earth can and will annoy the ever-loving shit out of you like a sibling.

But that’s not really important. Sean and Hotch don’t talk about their parents. At all. Ever.

Hotch says that when Sean was in the first grade he got sent off to boarding school. “I was the screw-up making bad choices”. Interesting enough of a statement to make but you throw in the rough ages of Sean and Hotch at that time and it’s a little more than just “interesting”. You have Hotch at roughly 14-15 getting into trouble just like Morgan did at that same age (coincidence???).

(now you can certainly look at Hotch’s parentification vs. Sean’s immaturity doubled with substance abuse problems but we’d be stretching. “The Tribe” touches on the parentification but Sean just calls it “the big brother” thing and tells Hotch that he’s not Sean’s father and it’s fine it’s whatever. Hotch is a bit pushy. That’s not new. Substance abuse can just be a problem, it doesn’t have to be bc they were abused but again… a little coincidental)

So... was Aaron Hotchner abused as a child? I certainly think so

[tedisnotdead]

The water flow stopped, and Andrew sighed, picking up the towel. He looked at himself in the mirror, his eyes scanning across the plain chest and stopping before his view reached his elbows.

"Andrew?" a voice called from the other side of the door, startling him. Andrew took a quick breath, closing his eyes before sighing, reminding himself of where he was. Renee's bathroom. Allison was downstairs, probably preparing baby Seth to stand in the crowd with her. "Nicky just left me your clothes. Do you want me to leave them in the spare room for you?"

"Yess." Andrew replied, looking down and pulling his boxers on. "I'll be out in a second." He reached for the armbands, pulling them on and tucking his thumb into the holes before walking out.

Betsy, Nicky and Erik were changing at home. They didn't need the preparation like the twins did, they wouldn't get picked. Jesse was safe too, wrapped up between his dads but next year he wouldn't. Next year he would be up there, and Andrew couldn't save him. Andrew had already felt the guilt of the six years he missed protecting his cousin and the four years he missed with his brother.

When they were united two years ago, it was a shock to everyone around them. Andrew had been in Betsy's care his entire life before then, with help from Renee for a few years during his more rebellious phase. When Renee started her fighting lessons twelve years ago, he was one of the firsts to sign up. Eight years after Andrew signed up, another Andrew signed up. Renee knew it wasn't him. And she mentioned it to Betsy, who connected the fourteen-year olds and since took them both in, alongside their cousin. A year later, Nicky introduced his boyfriend and his son to the family, and they were welcomed with open arms.

Betsy took two-week-old Andrew in from the day she saw him left on the side of the work field, wrapped in only a blanket. She took him home, where eight-year-old Renee was waiting. She hadn't been ditched like Andrew, she has been unfortunately orphaned by a factory malfunction and lost her mother at only six.  

Renee and Andrew grew up alongside each other, but when she left for the games at age thirteen, they knew they would never be the same. Renee came back a victor, that's when she started her fighting lessons. Betsy advised against it but saw her development and let her work. When Andrew questioned her why she let her fight after she had won, Betsy reminded him Renee had won for a reason.

That's when he met Wymack. David Wymack, the winner of the forty-third Hunger Games. David Wymack, the man who relied on the pain of tattoos to give him a mental escape from the pain that the Games had caused him. The same David Wymack who took Jean Moreau out of Betsy's care less than a week after she took him in.  

"Just because Jean was taken in by the Wymacks, it doesn't mean that you're not wanted." Betsy would always say. She would say the same thing every time she took one kid into her home and then they were taken in by a family a few days after. "You are just as valid. You are just as special. You just need to wait for your special time to shine."

Eight years passed and Aaron appeared. They united, Nicky was introduced, and Betsy took them all in. Betsy introduced them to Wymack, who introduced them to his kids and the Boyds. Befriending the entire of the Victors Village was a kick in the guts to Andrew. A reminder how he wasn't special, how he was basically nothing in comparison to some people.

Jean remembered him though. Jean made him feel special way. Not a romantic or sexual thing. Andrew knew those. Well, he knew sexual. He knew from all the hook-ups behind the factories, he knew from the nights he stayed at Roland's, a classmate in Renee's fighting class, and experimented with things. He knew from the start he was gay, but never said it out loud. He wasn't too confident when it came to romantic feelings however, but he had an idea.  

Jean Moreau-Wymack was his first and only friend. Renee accepted this, seeing how they're bond was more sibling like than friends. Jean joined him on the tree searched. Andrew taught him to climb quick, how to spot the nests quickly, how to remove both wasp and birds safely. In return, Jean baked him sweet goods. The banana breads and cakes and muffins rolled through the door daily, Jean delivering them every morning with a small smile. Occasionally, Jean would bake with exotic flavors that David Wymack brought back from his annual visits to the Capitol.

With all the time Andrew had started spending Jean, Aaron began spending it with the other child in the Wymack household. Kevin Wymack-Day. David's biological child from a woman he didn't meet again after their one-night stand.

When Kayleigh, Kevin's mother, passed Kevin had been put in the custody of David. Jean, Kayleigh's other child, had been given to Betsy to be cared for. David hunted him down and took him in, not having the heart to separate the kids.

Aaron and Kevin clicked the second they met. Both being insufferable, obsessive assholes in Andrew's opinion (and Jean's, but that was one of the secrets between the two that were shared in the tops of trees over a muffin each). Aaron's obsession laying in the profession of David's wife, Abby Wymack. One of the best doctors in District 7. Since Aaron became closer with her, he became more obsessed over the profession and soon, if he survived the final reaping, would become her apprentice. Kevin's obsession laid in a Capitol sport, Exy. Whenever his father visited the Capitol for the games, he would bring back his son merchandise of his favorite teams. David had a friend in the Capitol who recorded every game so he could take them home and Kevin could watch them.

Andrew reached the spare room and froze before remembering where he was. Renee's house. Aaron was at the Wymacks', using their shower like Andrew was using Renee's. He knew the only reason was to see Kevin, and 'secretly' say goodbye and good luck in their own special way.

Their attraction to each other was not unknown, practically everyone knew. But it was obvious they were waiting until Aaron's last reaping, until today, to make anything exclusive. As long as they snuck out of the Victors Village before anyone began to head to the town center, no one would notice the luxurious treatment the twins were getting.

The clothes were spread out, waiting on the spare room bed. Nicky's old black, short sleeved button up shirt and a pair of Erik's old, tight fit, wash jeans. A pair of old boots that Betsy had managed to afford where on the floor, with a pair of Allison's bright pink socks laying neatly in the neck of the boot.  

"You'll need to be ready in a few minutes Andrew." Renee's voice filtered through the door again. "The ceremony starts in an hour. People begin to move soon." Her footsteps echoed down the corridor as she left and Andrew looked at the clothes, sighing.

◒◓◒◓◒

Andrew stepped out, seeing Kevin and Aaron talking through a gap in the curtains. He sat back, waiting silently and watched them argue.  

"They're horrible." Jean mumbled, sitting next to Andrew on the wall, leaving a large enough space for Capitol's largest man to sit between them. "Kevin kicked me out so I couldn't hear. I think they're talking about their latest hook-up." He took a bite from a muffin, leaving one on the wall beside Andrew. "It was at ours while we were climbing. I think they think we're fucking."

"How disappointed will they be when they find out we don't fuck; we talk shit about them and stuff our faces with shit." Andrew mumbled and Jean giggled, taking another bite. "Truth for a truth?" Jean nodded. "I'm nervous."

"That's well justified." Jean said. "Your name is at the highest chance it's ever been, and ever will be. But some people do sadly have their names in there more than you. So, the chance it being you is low. And the chance it's Aaron is even lower, since your name is still in there from the past years of tesserae. "Jean sighed. "I'm gay. I think." Jean mumbled before looking over.

"Want another round?" Andrew asked and Jean stopped before nodding. He took another bite of his muffin, looking forward again. "I'm gay too." Andrew said, picking his muffin up. "I've known for a few years."

"I have a crush on Jeremy." Jean said. Andrew turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "The baker's son. I used to talk to him a lot when I lived with Kayleigh. She would let me pick up her weekly orders from the bakery and I would pay them with grain and milk. I used to talk to Jeremy every Sunday, and that's why I like baking. Because I like Jeremy. "

Andrew looked back through the window, seeing them still talking. Aaron seemed more angry than usual during their 'conversations'. "You should offer to work there." Andrew suggested. "You could see him more."

Jean laughed, looking down before taking the final bite. "I could, but who would you hang out with then? You haven't got any other friends." "I have Jesse." Andrew said, taking a bite. "This is good. What flavor is it?"

"It's another new one from the Capitol called Palmetto. It's basically a super sweet blood orange." Jean said. "And Jesse doesn't count. He's got school you know."

"I'll teach him then." Andrew argued, his eyes following Jean as the older boy got up and started pacing. "I remember all my lessons. I could teach him with no struggle." Jean snorted, looking up. "Shouldn't you be getting ready?"

"Kicked out remember?" Jean mumbled, looking back at Andrew. Andrew shrugged, taking another bite from his muffin and Jean laughed. "I should. Aaron seems to be done in the shower, so if I go straight up Kev probably won't care." Andrew nodded, taking another bite quickly. "I need to, don't I?" Andrew nodded again. "I'll see you after. Good luck Andrew." Jean turned to walk back.

"Jean." Andrew said and he stopped, turning. "If I get picked, don't be nervous to say goodbye."

Jean knew that was Andrew asking him to come. But Andrew didn't like asking. Andrew didn't want to ask, say the word please. It wasn't how Andrew worked, and Jean knew that. He never questioned why, but he knew that. He never pressed any questions when it came to Andrew, because Andrew never did the same to him. He never questioned the scars on his cheek or the roughness of his hands or the burn marks that Jean turned up with.

"I will." Jean said, smiling gently. "I hope you enjoyed the muffin! If I do need to visit you, I'll bring one along. A parting gift." He laughed before walking inside.

Andrew watched the door for a few seconds after it closed before moving his glance to the gap in the curtains. Their argument went on for a few more minutes until Aaron looked out the window. Andrew raised an eyebrow and Aaron sighed, turning back to Kevin and saying something before leaving.

"Trouble in paradise?" Andrew muttered when Aaron reached his side.

"Shut up." Aaron muttered, already towards the village entrance.

He was dressed in a tight red shirt, it looked like Kevin's with the way it was too tight around his waist but loose around the arms, and a pair of trousers which were too torn to belong to a victor, and the style choice only pointed to Nicky. Too tight around the thighs with baggy bottoms. Just how Erik liked it.

"He just wanted to wish me good luck and I wanted to thank him, or tell him to thank his dad, for letting me use their shower."

"Wish you good luck with a massive smooch." Andrew said, walking after him.

"As if you and Jean weren't doing the same." Aaron muttered, scowling at him.

"Jean was actually just telling me about his crush. I got a name and everything. It was glorious." Andrew said. As Aaron went to ask, Andrew continued, "But I will not be saying anything about the mystery person. It was in our game, and I never tell secrets from our game."

"You're stupid shitty 'Truth for a truth' game?" Aaron asked and Andrew nodded. "I don't know why you two play that. It's not even a game, its talking. Like normal people do. You and Jean are weird."

"I think Jean is smarter than you when it comes to most things." Andrew mumbled, pushing the gate at the end of the pathway open. Nicky looked up through the window, smiling when he saw the twins. "If him being weird is the consequence of that, I don't think he minds.  

"Fucking weirdo." Aaron muttered, pushing past. Nicky immediately fussed over him, asking where the shirt he left out was. Erik moved closer to Andrew, holding Jesse in his arms.

"I have missed you." Erik said.  

"Jesse." Andrew called and the young boy looked over. "Want to hug?" Jesse nodded excitedly. Erik squatted down, letting Jesse run over. But just before he reached Andrew, he slowed down and then calmly wrapped his arms around Andrew's waist. "Oh Andrew, you look amazing." Nicky whispered. "I wish Betsy could see you before the ceremony, but she's already gone to get the other kids ready." He stood up, smiling. "You both look amazing. And we are going to get through this, and we are going to come home and be calm and happy."

His smile faltered for a second, but he plastered it back on before Aaron could notice. Erik and Andrew did, but both decided to stay quiet, knowing he was trying his hardest.

"Andrew, are you sure you don't want to move to a factory job with me and Aaron? You could watch the games."

"I'm fine being a clearer." Andrew mumbled. "I get good pay and I only have to talk to Jean. I see no flaws."

"But you can't watch the games." Nicky said.

"Erik doesn't like to watch the games. Neither do I." Andrew said, looking down at Jesse, who had buried his face in Andrew's side. "I am happy getting the updates from you over dinner."

Nicky went to say something, but Erik stepped forward and whispered into his ear. Nicky sighed, looking at him. Erik pecked his lips softly.

"We should get going, though," Andrew said, pushing Jesse back lightly and holding his hand out. Jesse smiled widely, taking his hand and holding tightly, as if his life depended on it.

The walk to the town center was mostly fully of Nicky's nervous rambling, with Erik and Aaron occasionally responding. But Andrew ignored them and chose to focus on the small tune Jesse was humming, squeezing his hand along to the beat.

When they reached the town center, Erik picked Jesse back up. Jesse waved to Andrew sadly before his dad carried him off, holding Nicky's hand. They passed the peacekeepers and stood in the crowd beside Jean and Kevin. Andrew took off down the silent path, leading them to the identification tables.

He could see over the peacekeepers' shoulders, David, Matt and Renee lined up along the back of the stage, with their escort, Kathy Ferdinand, standing in front of them. She was talking animatedly to them, with her big blonde hair and eyes practically painted with pink. The skin-tight pink leather dress clung to her to an uncomfortably revealing extent where Andrew had to look away.

"Next." The peacekeeper said and Andrew looked up, seeing Aaron's whole-body flinch. "Go through. Next."

Andrew stepped forward, holding his hand forward. The peacekeeper grabbed his wrist roughly, tugging it forward and pricking the end of his finger. They then pressed it to the paper, scanned it and let him through.

Andrew rushed through, pushing through all the crowds to find his brother. Aaron was waiting nervously, wringing his wrists. Andrew pushed through the crowd until he ended up besides his brother, waiting silently.

"What if we get picked?" Aaron whispered, looking at his brother. Andrew shrugged, keeping his eyes focused on the stage. "Andrew I'm serious." he said before his voice was drowned out by Kathy tapping the microphone.

"Welcome, welcome." she said, smiling at everyone.

The neon yellow contacts she wore made everyone unsettled, but she continued, her cat-like eyes scanning the crowd.

"Welcome to the fifty seventh Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favor." She smirked, looking across to the group of people who weren't being reaped, taunting them. "Now, the time has come for us to select one courageous young man and women for the honor of representing district seven in this year's Hunger Games." She stopped for a second, smiling. "As usual, ladies first."

She shuffled across the stage in her overly tight dress and waved her hand over the bowl. A hand skimmed Andrew's wrist and he looked down, seeing Aaron's beside his, the knuckles brushing the black cloth. Andrew slid his hand into his brothers as Kathy waddled back to the microphone.

"Marissa Goodman." Kathy read out, looking across the crowd. People were stepped aside two sections before the twins.

Sixteen years old, Andrew told himself. The girl stepped forward, dressed in a light green dress which skimmed her knees and her hair tied into a tight ponytail.

"Come on up dear, don't be afraid." Four peacekeepers surrounded her, leading her up to the stage. Marissa slowly walked up, and Kathy enthusiastically welcomed her. "And now the boys."

Aaron's grip tightened on his hand as she reached the glass bowl. Kathy smiled, waving her hand around the top before diving in and pulling out one white slip. She slowly shuffled back to the microphone and leant close, undoing the slip slowly. She smirked before reading, "Aaron Michael Minyard."

"I volunteer as tribute." Andrew looked down before he even had acknowledged the words come out of his mouth. He looked back up, seeing everyone staring at him. Aaron was looking at him with tearful eyes.

"Not Andrew." he whispered, but Andrew pushed past. "No. Andrew stop!" he shouted, following him through. Andrew took his place in between the peacekeepers but was dragged back violently. "I won't let you do this." Aaron shouted.

"I volunteer." Andrew repeated, making direct eye contact with Aaron. Aaron shook his head, his mouth opening and closing until the first tear rolled down his cheek and his grip on Andrew's arm loosened.  

Aaron was pulled back quickly, and Andrew recognized the hand around his twin's shoulders immediately. Jean pulled Aaron back, avoiding Andrew's eye. Andrew turned around and followed the peacekeepers down the aisle. Renee was staring at him, shocked, from the back of the stage. Matt's eyes were filled with tears, while Wymack's jaw was clenched.  

Andrew didn't remember as far back as to when he was four, but he knew Wymack's story.

Wymack had trained as hard as he could after losing a close friend to the games when he was twelve. When David turned eighteen, he volunteered himself before the name was even called out. His reasoning was to save one more helpless kid from being killed in his district. This caused him to become a fan favorite in the Capitol, and a respected citizen in the district. In every shop, I have had a discount. Everyone smiled at him in the streets. Everyone welcomed him into their homes and invited him round for dinner.

Every year, when the victors returned, all three of the victors visited the houses of the fallen tributes to mourn with them for one night. They supplied the family with the food for the night and left them all the leftovers. It was a tradition started by Wymack, but when Renee won the forty-fourth Hunger Games, she joined in. And when Matt won the fifty-first Hunger Games, he became the final part of the trio.

Andrew was snapped out of his thoughts when he reached the bottom of the stairs, looking up at the stage. He made eye contact with Renee, who smiled gently at him. He sighed before walking up.

"A volunteer!" Kathy cried, holding her hand out to showcase Andrew's arrival. "Now, what's your name young man?"

"Andrew Joseph Minyard." Andrew said, looking forward.

Jean was finally looking at him, his face contorted with fear. Nicky was beside him, crying into Erik's shoulder. Erik was staring at Andrew in fear while Jesse sobbed, bundled in Betsy's arms. Aaron was crying, while being held back by Kevin.  

"Oh, and was that your brother I picked?" Kathy asked, smiling widely.

"Yes, my twin brother." Andrew answered, trying to keep his voice monotone.

"How lovely." Kathy said before turning to the crowd again. "Here we are. Our tributes from district seven!" She started clapping, but everyone stayed silent.

Jean brought three fingers up to his lips before raising them above his head. Slowly, everyone around him began to do the same, the gesture spreading among the crowd. A single tear rolled down Jean's scarred cheek and Andrew took a deep breath before bringing three fingers to his own lips then raising them above his head.

"Happy Hunger Games!" Kathy cried, "And may the odds be ever in your favor."

They turned away, Kathy leading them both to the door at the back. Andrew flinched away from her touch, overtaking Marissa and pushing himself into the corridor.

"Andrew." Renee said, walking up to him.

"Not." Andrew spat out through gritted teeth.

He would not let himself cry; he would not let himself cry.

"We can talk on the train. I want to say goodbye to them."

[nazyalenskyism]

And Here I Thought You Couldn't Get Any More Ridiculous

Summary: A Zoyalai fic based on the prompt from an anon: ‘And here I thought you couldn't get any more ridiculous’ send me a prompt/sentence and i’ll write you a little blurb

        “What if you married me?”

        “And here I thought you couldn’t get any more ridiculous,” Zoya huffed, taking another sip from her wine glass.         “What’s so ridiculous about marrying me?”

        “Well, let’s see,” she mocked, punctuating each point by ticking it off on a finger, “you’ll get no money for Ravka from that. You will gain no new political allies. Your people will never accept a Grisha queen. You want to marry for love. And all that aside, you are assuming that I would ever want to marry you, your highness.” 

        “All of those matters can be resolved,” Nikolai insisted, plucking the glass from her hands and taking a swig as he threw himself down next to her.         “How, Nikolai? It’s not possible to fix everything using your fast talk and charm.”

        “Improbable, not impossible, Zoya dear.”

        “Insufferable and ridiculous, maybe you really can be everything at once.”

        “I never said I couldn’t. If anything you are the contrarian in this relationship, Nazyalensky.”         “What relationship?” she scoffed, snatching her wine glass back. Even now, the king took too many liberties. She could not care less about the rumors that she was his mistress but Zoya knew that if Nikolai were to ever find a wife, those types of rumors couldn’t be floating around. She was taking too much of a liberty herself tonight, it was late and she was sharing a nightcap alone with the king in his chambers. No potential bride would want to pursue a husband who spent so much of his personal time with his general. Although, she was sure that he would be too busy spending this time they shared with his wife, enough so that he would finally let her retire to her own chambers at a decent time instead of sitting in front of the fire with him. 

        She did feel a prickle of something in her heart though, when she thought of the idea of not having this routine anymore. Zoya couldn’t quite figure out why this was, though she supposed it was likely due to the prospect of having to construct a new routine rather than fall back into what she knew. Nikolai would have his wife to spend his evenings with, and Zoya would have time to herself to do what, exactly? Tag along with Genya and David or Tamar and Nadia while the couples mooned over each other? Disgusting. Attend poetry evenings with Tolya? No thanks. Go to Count Kirigin’s revels? She’d rather spend the night hunting down Nikolai’s monster friend or worse, teaching herself how to knit. She shuddered at the thought, the cherry red wine sweet on her lips but a bitter taste remained in her mouth.         “What if I gave you a ring?” Nikolai continued, ignoring her words, “you do like jewels.”         “Didn’t you waste the Lantsov emerald on the Sun Summoner? I doubt you have enough funds to buy a gem a fraction of its size.” 

        “Really?” Nikolai laughed, “you have that little faith in me?”         “It’s not faith Nikolai, it’s basic mathematics. If you’re unable to pay off your loans, you’re unable to buy the type of jewelry that’s worth marrying a man over.”         “So I suppose I shouldn’t be in possession of this?” Nikolai waved a small black box under her nose, eyes sparkling with delight when her eyes widened slightly at the sight of it.

        “Nikolai--” her hand shot out to cover his firmly, making sure he couldn’t open the box. “I need to go,” a terrible excuse, but it was all she could think to say. This had gone from playful banter to crossing the line into being dangerous. They could not afford this, no matter how much she wanted to know what was in the box.

        “No, you don’t. Not until you see this at least.”

        Before she could shoot to her feet however, Nikolai’s hand escaped her grasp slipping craftily over her own so now she was the one who couldn’t pry her fingers free. Nikolai gave her an expecting look, and when she didn’t move, he sighed dramatically, flipping the lid open.

        She couldn’t stop the shock from flickering onto her face. There, at the center of the black box, resting on the cushion was a… folded piece of parchment? Her eyes flicked to his and he simply nodded at it, indicating that she should take it. Tentatively she unfolded it single handedly, her other hand still enclosed in his.

        “Are you serious?”

        “Aren’t I always?”

        She slapped his shoulder as a grin bloomed over his features. “I owe you one ring? You’re ridiculous.”

        He shrugged, “you know our finances as well as I do, we can’t afford that.”

        “Exactly why you need a bride who has an excess of gold.”

        “I don’t particularly care for gold.”

        “Maybe that’s why you’re the head of a bankrupt country.” 

        He considered that for a second, “no, I think it was because of my charm.”

        “Interesting word for circumstance.”

        “Circumstance, or twenty one years of training myself to be king in the making?”

        She rolled her eyes, pulling her hand from his around the box as an exhale expelled the tension that had been coiled in her. Zoya had been right, he wasn’t serious about this. It was simply Nikolai being silly with a little too much alcohol in his system. “Goodnight, King Wretch.”

        “Goodnight, commander. Don’t think I won’t be asking again when I have a ring.”

        “Once you have money, you mean?”

        “Yes,” Nikolai laughed.

        “So in two hundred some years?”

        He winked, at her as she slipped out the door, “it may be sooner than you think.” 

        “Like I said before, I thought you couldn't get any more ridiculous, but you manage to outdo yourself every time.”

        “I am nothing if not extraordinary.” Nikolai said, shutting the door behind her, and Zoya didn’t miss the sound of his gleeful laugh as she made her way back to her own chambers.

[fancoloredglasses]

The Dark Knight Returns Part 3: “Hunt the Dark Knight” (When things start going FUBAR)

(Thanks to Amazon)

[All images are owned by DC Comics and WarnerMedia. I hope I’m too small-fry to sue...]  

PREVIOUSLY ON...

Bruce Wayne (now in his late 50s/early 60s) dons the cape and cowl 10 years after retiring, sparking a lot of controversy about Batman’s violent methods, including from psychiatrist Bartholomew Wolper.

Dr. Wolper, coincidentally, is overseeing the treatment of the Joker, who (not coincidentally) has awakened from a catatonic state following the Batman’s return.

Meanwhile, the threat of a murderous street gang known as the Mutants has been neutralized by Batman by publicly defeating and humiliating their leader. Those who were not arrested have splintered into smaller gangs (including the Sons Of the Batman, who have become vigilantes themselves...though with fewer moral codes than their inspiration)

Now, on with our story. If you would like to read the graphic novel of the series, it’s available in most comic ships and bookstores. If you would like to view the film, it’s available on Amazon Prime behind the paywall.

We pick up the story three months after the Mutants disbanded.

Yep, this again. This time the debate isn’t so much on Batman as the Sons of the Batman, who are still as murderous as the Mutants but aimed at criminals instead of innocents.

Meanwhile at Arkham Asylum Home for the Emotionally Troubled, a certain green-haired individual has completely returned to lucidity...

...and being treated by Dr. Wolper (because he did such a bang up job with Harvey Dent) The Joker manages to manipulate Dr. Wolper into getting him on a talk show to tell his side of things (oh, you KNOW that won’t end well!)

Sure enough, Dr. Wolper gets the Joker booked on the David Endocrine Show. Plenty of people who remember 10 years ago are in an uproar, though the network is chomping at the bit at the expected ratings.

Meanwhile, Batman’s renewed activities have gotten the attention of the White House, and given this is 1985, you know the President loves the sort of theatrics Batman brings to Gotham, but still...

In fact, let’s cut to the White House, where President Ronald Reagan is briefing an agent specializing on overseas dealings about Batman, saying in a different time he’d likely give Batman a medal. However, this is a different time and Batman needs to calm down.

His agent promises to see what he can do.

That night, a convenience store is being held up by a splinter gang known as the Brunos. “Bruno” is a woman with a similar haircut to Rob and Don (above) and built like a linebacker. The store owner distracts the Brunos long enough to grab the revolver under his counter and get the drop on them. However...

Yeah, that’s Bruno (who apparently is somehow hooked up with the Joker. I had no idea Arkham allowed conjugal visits) She’s tough enough to go in public wearing nothing but swastika pasties. Bruno threatens to paint her boys’ outfits with the owner’s brains when an old woman comes out from behind the stack complaining about the price of her hooch. Don decides to make an example out of her, but...

...she’s got some fight in her. Bruno and Rob start firing at her, then she disarms them with a Batarang (yeah, it’s him) Bruno flees the scene with Batman in pursuit. The owner decides to get some payback on Rob, but Batman gives a friendly warning that if he kills Rob...

[Meanwhile on the streets of Gotham...

...something moves faster than a speeding bullet.]

Robin draws Bruno into a nearby alley, where Batman corners her and demands to know Joker’s upcoming TV appearance.

[Meanwhile at a nearby subway station, three people are accidentally knocked onto the tracks as the train approaches! Suddenly...

...the train is stopped by something more powerful than a locomotive.]

As Batman gets a bit rough on Bruno, the ground trembles and a wall explodes, sending Batman flying. Bruno gets to her feet and opens fire on the man behind the wall, but I’m sure you can guess how well that goes for her.

Suddenly the man’s eyes turn red and her gun heats up. He then takes some pipes and ties her up with them, allowing Batman to deliver the knockout punch.

Batman tells him to come by in the morning and to go away until then. With that, the man leaves...

...leaping over a tall building in a single bound.

On the news...

...the island nation of Corto Maltese is the subject of increased tensions between the US and the Soviet Union (See kids, the USSR wasn’t just a place mentioned in a Beatles song!) President Reagan has a press conference about the conflict, but the questions eventually come back around to Gotham.

As far as the State level (just what state is Gotham City in, anyway?), the Governor says it’s up to the Deputy Mayor to deal with. The Mayor says they have a perfectly capable Commissioner starting her tenure shortly who can decide what the policy is on the Batman (whatever happened to “The buck stops here”?)

Speaking of the Commissioner, there is a dinner that evening commemorating James Jordon’s retirement. Gordon speaks about the trials Yindel will face, including whether to treat Batman as an ally or enemy. Yindel then takes the podium...

Whelp, so much for being an ally.

The next morning at he grounds of Wayne Manor...

(Thanks to citiprime)

With the boys done measuring the length of their capes, Superman flies off to Corto Maltese, where Americans on Soviets are fighting over who gets to install their puppet government freedom vs. tyranny when...

Well, I don’t know about Truth and Justice, but I’d say he’s still fighting for the American Way (or at least for the American government)

Back on the home front, at Arkham Joker is visited by...

one of his old henchmen (the guy who built all his gadgets...and was the one who tampered with Harvey Dent’s bombs in the comic version of Part 1), who quietly gives his support for whatever he has planned for the evening.

That evening, as David Endocrine...OK, gotta pause here as here is a major difference in the visuals between the comic and the film. in the film, this is David Endocrine...

...voiced by Conan O’Brien (with Conan’s sidekick Andy Richter voicing David’s sidekick Frank. However, in the comic it’s pretty obvious who David Endocrine is supposed to be...

(Thanks to Batman Fandom)

...and yes, there’s a Paul Shaffer stand-in (named Paul. Go fig) as well.

Anyway, as David is preparing for his guest for the evening, Commissioner Yindel has the outside of the building crawling with cops (whether to nab the Joker when the inevitable happens or to nab Batman when he tries to stop the Joker is anyone’s guess)

Meanwhile, Batman and Robin are en route, with Robin given strict orders to stay in the copter and Don’t Touch Anything! (under threat of being cut loose) With that, Batman jumps into the fray.

Batman does his best to not actually injure the cops as he neutralizes them, but he gets no closer to entering the building. And if you think Robin’s just gonna sit on her hands...

When she realizes the Batcopter won’t follow her verbal orders, she reprograms it.

Meanwhile, at the evening’s taping of the David Endocrine Show...

(Thanks to MegaPCX)

Another quick note here: in the comic, the Joker’s killing spree is started when he kisses a Dr. Ruth stand-in (for the kids out there, Dr. Ruth Westheimer was a (in the 80s) 50-something woman who made a living giving sexual advice)...

(Thanks to CBR)

...while wearing lipstick laced with his smile toxin. (Don’t worry, Dr. Wolper still gets what’s coming to him in this version as well)

Meanwhile on the roof, the numbers game is finally catching up with Batman when Robin finishes her reprogramming. She flies in close to pick up Batman before flying away.

Despite his threats before the fight...

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think Batman’s developing a soft spot for his latest sidekick.

On the news, Corto Maltese is under a media blackout.

(almost like Reagan doesn’t want anyone to know about his pet super hero)

Meanwhile stateside...

(I would say it looks like Catwoman’s left the criminal world, but I guess that depends on the type of “escorts” Selina employs)

Selina has a visitor...a rather pasty and green-haired one.

Joker kisses Selina while wearing a narcotic lipstick that renders her willing to do him a favor involving one of her employees (whose client for the evening is a Congressman...)

After loaning the employee his lipstick, she has a favor to ask of the Congressman...

...that is plastered all over the news. The Congressman is demanding a preemptive nuclear strike against Corto Maltese before the Soviets can launch their own.

Needless to say, this draws Batman’s attention. Unfortunately, the Congressman loses his balance and falls out of his flag, making a rather lewd street pizza below.

Commissioner Yindel is quickly on the scene to take charge.

She briefs one of the Detectives on the scene that Selina Kyle is a suspect, given one of her employees was seen with the Congressman. O’Halleran leaves for Kyle Escorts when...

Yindel’s keen mind realizes that one of these men is not the real Lt. O’Halleran and tells her men to stop the first, who then sprints to the waiting Batcycle. Yindel then sends everything she has to Kyle Escorts.

Fortunately, Batman arrives first.

OK, I know the Joker’s supposed to be insane, but this is just twisted! Robin finds a cone of cotton candy on the floor, to which Batman guesses the Joker’s hitting the fairgrounds next.

OK, this just got personal!

Then Yindel and the SWAT team show up, so Batman has Robin bring in the Batwing and the pair jump out the window. However, as they strap themselves in...

Robin’s harness snaps and she falls!

Fortunately, Batman has a very grabbable cape. Batman carefully pulls her up and holds on to her.

Upon seeing that Batman has a Robin, Yindel adds child endangerment to the growing list of charges against Batman.

At the fairgrounds...

Oh, this will not end well! It’s not shown in the film, but I’m sure you can guess what happens to those cub scouts in the comic when they eat that cotton candy.

Then the Batwing shows up. Joker sends his henchman to deal with Robin while he takes care of Batman.

Joker takes a hostage, however...

...Batman’s not playing around tonight! Joker runs into the Hall of Mirrors and grabs another hostage as Batman stalks after him. Batman manages to separate the Joker from his hostage, but...

Tag! You’re it, Batman!

Meanwhile on the roller coaster...

...Robin has her hands full. She manages to kick her assailant off and he lands on the chain that drags the coasters uphill. It catches on his sweater and does its job, dragging him away from Robin. Unfortunately, the top of the chain has a bunch of gears that...

Well, that’s one down.

As for the other...

(Thanks to Bruce Huang)

Oh, you know Yindel’s gonna add this to the list! Thus ends Part 3.

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Skyline Manor by GleefullyCaptainSwan Chapter 10/13

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @deckerstarblanche

Chapter 10: Attention Please

The Captain watched the woman in the red cloak sniffing the air as she moved through the forest. He knew of her kind, had heard of their abilities, but had avoided interaction with her species. His First Mate warily followed behind him, refusing to allow him to continue his quest unless she accompanied him after finding out about the inclusion of the aid of the Huntress.

“Are we sure she isn’t leading us into a trap, waiting until we are all separated before turning and hunting us all?”

Killian turned toward her, “Such positive affirmations, French.”

“Besides the ability to track, I also have excellent hearing.” The woman in the cloak remarked loudly from the front of the group.

“Great job, now you’ve offended her.” He chuckled, continuing his path.

Suddenly the woman stopped, holding her hand in the air. She whispered to the Princess, “I caught the scent of Master Henry. That way.”

Killian rushed to the Princess, grabbing her by the arm. “Stay here. I’ll go ahead.”

“I’m going with you.” She said defiantly.

“I believe the King, and might I say the Duke, were told that you would not venture into danger on this quest. So, I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist that you stay here with the woman.”

“If you think I give a damn about what you told my brother, much less the Duke, you are very mistaken.” She held her chin high, yanking her arm away from the Captain and marching in the direction that Ruby had pointed.

Killian grumbled and followed the woman down the path. “One of these days, I’m going to stop chasing this woman.”

~*~

“So, she’s just dating Will now?” Ruby asked after Emma explained what had happened with Killian, Belle, and William.

“I guess. Apparently they’ve been chatting for two weeks.” Emma held her hand in air quotes because she wasn’t exactly sure what chatting meant. “But Will just asked her out the other day. Apparently that was their first real date when I caught them sucking face outside his door.”

“How’s Killian holding up?”

“How should I know?” Emma deflected.

“The two of you seem pretty close lately, I saw you both at the diner the other day eating lunch together. Just saying, you seemed pretty cozy.” Ruby teased.

“There’s nothing going on, if that is what you are implying Rubes.”

“So, then you wouldn’t mind if I asked him out? You know now that he’s single and all.”

“I uh…” Emma frowned, trying to calm her sudden anxiety. “I don’t know if he’s going to want to date right after getting dumped by Belle and all.” Emma took a drink of her water. “But sure, I mean if you want to ask him out.”

“What better way to get over a broken heart than by getting back up on the horse.” Ruby grinned. “I’d ride that stallion bareback.”

Emma choked on her water. “Um, yeah I guess.”

“Oh relax, I’m not going to ask him out. I don’t date men who aren’t emotionally available anyway.”

“Well, you do whatever you want. I’m not his keeper.” Emma said dryly.

“Are you sure about that?” She smirked, but Emma only nodded quietly, her mind swirling around thoughts of her neighbor.

Later that evening, she sat on the roof, surrounded by her family and friends at an impromptu get together, she couldn’t keep her eyes off the man sitting with her son, drinking his beer, telling stories that made her son laugh until he was doubled over, a smile across his entire face.

Besides David and Will, Henry had never taken an interest in a man the way he had with Killian. Emma had to admit there was something about him that had captivated her as well. He looked up and her eyes locked with his. She smiled softly, the corner of his lips turning upward in return.

A noise knocked her from her trance as she looked up to see her brother clanging his glass with a fork. “Excuse me, if I could have your attention please.” He jumped up on one of the tables and pointed toward her as Graham stood up next to her. “My best friend, Graham has a few words he would like to say.”

Emma looked up, watching with apprehension as Graham turned toward her. For some reason it made her stomach wretch with anxious energy. “Emma…” He started to speak, and Emma felt her entire body tense. “I know we haven’t dated a full year yet, but these have been the best nine months of my life.”

No, no, no, no, no, this can’t be happening.

Emma could barely see Graham’s face with the way her vision was starting to blur, not from tears of joy but from panic.

“And there is nothing I want more than for you and Henry to be a part of my life permanently.” He bent down on his knee and Emma felt like vomiting. She looked around the room at the happy faces staring at her, and she turned desperately trying to find her son. Henry was standing alone at the table he was previously enjoying time with Killian at.

His face was solemn, ghastly almost as he watched the scene in front of him in solitude. Killian was nowhere to be seen.

“Will you do me the honor of being my wife?” Her attention turned back to Graham, kneeling in front of her, holding out a shimmering ring toward her.

She didn’t know how to speak. Her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth, but Emma knew that the sick feeling in the bottom of her stomach should not be there in the middle of something that was supposed to be a happy moment.

“Emma?” Her eyes jerked up to meet Grahams.

She wanted to say yes and embrace him with joy. She wanted to let him know that she would be happy and taken care of for the rest of her life with Graham by her side. She wished more than anything that his question made her the happiest woman on the planet. Graham was good to her. He would be a good husband; he would love Henry as his own. He was a good man.

Emma knew the words she needed to say, she rehearsed them in her head. She was lucky, she was blessed to have someone like Graham want to marry her and take care of her son, yet when she opened her mouth, the words would not come out.

“Graham…” She said softly. “I…” She reached out and cupped her hands around his outstretched palm, closing his fingers around the ring. “I can’t.”

~*~

Killian stopped in the stairwell, leaning against the wall to calm his breathing. He knew he shouldn’t be so affected by the proposal taking place on the rooftop. Emma had been with Graham since he met her, it was the natural order of things for normal people. People unlike himself. People who deserved to find everlasting love.

Emma deserved to be happy. Yet he couldn’t stop the aching pain in his chest the moment he watched the man drop down to one knee in front of her.

It was bad enough that the evening began with Will and Belle attending the festivities together. He was happy for Belle, and Will honestly, but it stung a bit to see her laughing and enjoying her time with the man. Had it not been for Henry, Killian would have felt completely alone tonight. Instead, Henry stayed by his side, asking him questions about his day, telling him stories about the latest movie he had watched.

But as soon as Graham dropped to his knee, Killian slipped into the shadows, retreating to the stairwell to make his exit. He didn’t belong up there, with her friends and family, celebrating the good news. He would allow her the moment in private.

As soon as he reached his apartment, he crossed the kitchen, opening his cupboard to pull the bottle of rum from its place. Instead of pouring the liquid into the glass, he titled the bottle into his mouth, the warm liquid burning its way to his stomach.

He dropped down onto his couch, the bottle tucked into his side, another night alone. He drank until sleep took him, golden blonde hair blowing on the bow of his ship, shimmering flecks of green dancing in the sunlight. She turned toward him, his name falling off her lips like a secret blowing in the wind.

Killian.

He sat up, a knock on his door pulling him from his dream. The empty bottle fell from his side, hitting the ground and rolling under the couch. He groaned, pulling himself up from his prone position and stumbling toward the door. Turning the handle, he cracked the door open, peering into the hall. His vision dropped down to see Henry staring up at him.

“Hey Killian, can we take Smee to the park?”

“Morning, lad, you’re up early!” He moaned, grabbing his head.

“It’s after one.” He laughed. “Did you just wake up?”

“A bit too much partying last night.” He opened the door, letting the boy in as he fished the dog’s leash from its spot on the counter. “A bit of sunshine might do me good.”

“Did you hear that Smee, we’re going to the park.” The dog jumped excitedly around the boy and Killian felt another ache in his chest. Surely the boy would still want to spend time with him after his mother married. He didn’t realize how much he enjoyed the boy’s presence until the thought of losing it presented itself.

“Are you ready?” Killian smiled and opened the door, letting the boy take the leash and following him out the door.

They walked to the park, Henry talking rapidly about a game he wanted to play later, as Killian realized he had just placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder as they walked. It was a gesture so simple and pure, yet he had never had such a kinship with a young kid before.

“So maybe we could play on Wednesday night now. You know because mom won’t be doing that anymore.”

Killian realized he hadn’t heard a word the boy had said. “Sorry lad, what is it your mom won’t be doing on Wednesday?”

“Date night with Graham.”

“Henry, just because your mom is getting married, doesn’t mean that date night stops, it just means they happen more frequently, at home.” He chuckled.

“But my mom isn’t getting married.” He stopped walking and looked up at him.

“What are you talking about, Henry. I was there for the news last night.”

“You mean when she broke it off with Graham?”

“She did what?”

Henry shrugged, “Yeah after she turned down his proposal, they had a long talk and mom came to my room and told me that she and Graham had decided to stop seeing each other. She was afraid I was going to be upset about it, but honestly, she made the right choice. Graham isn’t her true love anyway.”

Killian just stared at the boy; Emma turned down Graham’s proposal. He shouldn’t care, it shouldn’t make him as happy as he’s feeling right now, yet it was the only thing he could say for certain. Nothing made him happier than knowing that Emma had rejected Graham’s proposal.

It was ridiculous, it meant that Emma was alone, just as he was. Technically he was free to pursue her, free to finish what had been started twice before with their kiss. There was nothing standing in the way of him having her, tasting her, taking her the way he had dreamed so many nights before.

But Emma was different than other women he had bedded. She wasn’t a one-time thing. And just as with Belle, Emma deserved better than one night in bed with him. She deserved love, a home, a relationship. Things he couldn’t offer her.

“Do you like my mom?”

Killian’s eyes grew wide. “Of course, I like your mom, she’s my friend.”

He laughed. “That’s not what I meant. I mean, do you like her, like her. You know, as a girl.”

“I think your mom is a lovely woman, lad.”

The boy smiled up at him, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “So, you like her.”

Killian chuckled, “Alright lad, let’s get you home before your mom starts wondering where you are.”

“I’m going to take your answer as a yes, because you didn’t actually say no.”

“Let’s go.” Killian turned the boy back toward the apartment, unable to keep the smile off his face.

~*~

The path led to a small cottage, smoke billowing from the fireplace. Killian grabbed the Princess by the hand, pulling her back and pointing to the back of the home. “Shh, let’s go to the back.” He whispered into her ear.

They snuck around the back, peering into the small window. The Princess put her hand to her mouth as she saw her son sitting on a small bed in the middle of the room. She felt the Captain put an arm around her shoulder. “Stay here.” He whispered, his breath hot against her ear. She silently protested, grabbing his arm as he turned to leave, breathless groaning as he turned back to her. “What?” He almost pouted.

She grabbed him by the arm, yanking him down under the window as Baelfire walked toward the glass pane. His body pressed into her, her face in his chest as she cowered to the ground. She could feel the heat radiating from his body as he looked down into her eyes. A slight nod to address her quick action that had saved them from being spotted.

“Go around front, I’ll stay back here in case they try and leave through the back.” She whispered.

“Take this.” He handed her a small dagger, pressing it into her hand. “Be careful, love. I do not wish to see you harmed.”

He crawled to the side of the wall, standing, and making his way to the front of the cottage. She peered through the window just in time to see the wooden boards burst to pieces and Captain Jones appear in the wake of their destruction.

“I have come to take you in, by order of the King.” She heard him announce, she stood, making her way to the back door.

“You will not take my son from me; his mother will pay for keeping him from me.”

She pushed through the door, startling everyone in the cottage. Baelfire turned quickly, grabbing Henry, and pressing his dagger to his throat. “Was expecting you, Princess.”

“Let him go, he’s innocent.”

“Did he know about me?”

“No, I told him you were dead. It was the same as being abandoned, thrown away.”

“You had no right. He’s mine, together he and I can make twice as much as I do now.”

“Unhand the lad.” The Captain’s voice boomed over the Princess and the Swan Thief’s argument.

“Moved on, did you?” Baelfire taunted. “You can’t replace me, Princess.”

The Princess watched as Captain Jones crept closer to her son. The dagger was piercing his skin and Emma felt desperate to get to him. Just as Emma was about to press her blade to Baelfire’s back, Captain Jones nodded to her boy, lunging forward as Henry ducked and knocking the man onto his back.

“I had it under control.” Emma complained.

“I told you to wait outside.” The Captain argued.

Henry watched in amusement as his mother stood arguing with the man who had just saved his life. His father knocked out cold at their feet.

Henry bounded into his apartment to find his mother sitting on the couch, staring at the television which was currently turned off.

“Hey mom.”

She jumped from her spot and turned toward him. “Henry, did you enjoy your walk?”

“Yup, we took Smee to the park.”

“That’s great.” She said turning back toward the television with a frown on her face.

“Are you ok mom?” He sat down next to her on the couch.

“I’m fine, it’s just been a long week.”

“Are you sad about Graham?”

“I’m sad that I don’t feel sad about Graham. Does that make sense?” She said with a laugh.

“Yeah. I mean, I liked Graham, but he wasn’t right for you. He’s not your true love.” He said wistfully.

“Oh Henry, real life isn’t like your fairytales.” She ran a hand through his hair.

“Not if you don’t believe.” He replied.

Henry paced in his room that evening, everything seemed to be working out perfectly. Belle was with Will now; Graham and his mother were finished. Killian and Emma were free to be together. He knew they liked each other, it wasn’t hard to see the way they looked at each other or how calm and free his mother was when he was around.

But now they were both free to admit their feelings, and yet neither of them seemed prepared to do so. If only he could get them to be honest with each other. If they just had a moment alone where neither one of them could deny how they felt.

Henry paused in his pacing, a smile coming to his face. Slipping from his room he snuck into the hallway, he could hear the shower water in the bathroom, his mother singing quietly in the shower. Pushing his mother’s door open, he crept into her room, her cellphone charging on her nightstand. He picked it up and quickly searched her contacts until he found what he needed.

E: I need to talk to you. Please meet me on the roof at 7pm tomorrow night.

After the message sent, he clicked the delete button, removing it from her phone and setting it back on her table.

Moving quickly, he slipped out of the apartment and knocked on Killian’s door. It opened and Killian stood in front of him in his bathrobe. “Lad, is everything alright?”

“Yeah I think I left my phone over here earlier. Can you help me look for it?”

“Aye, do you remember where you might have left it?”

“Maybe the bathroom, or the kitchen.” Henry looked around the room, scanning it for the phone when he saw it on the kitchen counter. “Yeah maybe you can check the bathroom and I’ll look around here.”

“Alright lad, be right back.”

Henry ran to the counter, picking up the phone and seeing the message from his mom. Typing quickly, he sent a reply.

K: I need to talk to you. 7pm, rooftop tomorrow. Please come.

He deleted the message and marked the one from his mother as unread. Putting the phone back on the counter, he yelled to the back of the apartment. “Found it.” He yelled down the hallway, holding up the phone he pulled from his pocket. “Sorry to bother you, it was on the counter.”

“Alright, well, glad you found it.”

“Thanks again.” He ran out the door and quickly snuck back into his apartment. Pausing in front of the bathroom to listen to the shower still running. He smiled as his mother sang.

Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars?

I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now.

A smile formed on his face. “Don’t worry mom, I’m going to make sure all your wishes come true.”

[themrsdeanwinchester]

Two Souls - Part 1

Welcome to my first mini series! I had originally planned on this being a one shot but I got attached while writing it and it’s a story that is very close to my heart. I decided why not turn it into my very first mini series! I say mini because I don’t plan on it being longer than four, five parts tops. But that could change. We will see how it goes. :) In this series, Dean has retired from hunting but still lives in the bunker with Sam.

I’m the only one who has read this, so if there are mistakes, I apologize. I read it and did my best to find all my errors. You can find more of my work here.

Pairing: Dean x female reader

Warnings: Fluff, Dean being adorable. Possible trigger warnings in future parts of the story.

Word Count: 3,866

Series Summary: Dean starts a job working as a mechanic as a locally owned auto shop. The owner’s daughter, who works at the shop, makes Dean’s heart ache from the moment he sets eyes on her. But, does she feel the same way? What will her dad think? When her life starts crumbling, is it Dean who will be there for her and help her pick up the pieces?

I would love feedback, please :) Also, please send me a message/ask if you'd like to be added to my tag list.

Dean pulled his Impala into a spot at David’s Auto Shop for his interview with the owner and office manager. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he looked at the shop bays, all seven of them full of cars. The shop was a busy one because it was popular with the locals. The owner, David, was well respected and had been in business for over twenty years. Dean was nervous that his resume wouldn’t impress the veteran mechanic since he had never worked for an auto shop before. 

He got out of the Impala and ran his hands down the front of his shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles. He had chosen his nicest plaid shirt, buttoned all the way up to the collar and tucked into his jeans. He had done his best to clean up his boots but they were still stained. 

Dean approached the shop, resume in hand. He grabbed the door, took another deep breath and stepped inside the shop. The phones were ringing off the hook, mechanics were running in and out of the door from the shop to grab keys, put paperwork on the counter and answer the phones.

A husky, tall man with broad shoulders walked through the door and set his gaze on Dean.

“How can I help you?” He asked.

“I’m here for an interview,” Dean said. He glanced at the man’s name patch. He was the owner.

“You must be Dean. I’m David.” He extended his left hand to Dean. Out of instinct, Dean reached out his right hand to shake David’s. Only to fumble and change to his left. David laughed. “I’m left handed. My handshake always throws everyone off. Go through that doorway,” David pointed to Dean’s right, “and the first door on your right is the office manager’s office. I’ll meet you in there. She’s expecting you.” 

Dean crossed the lobby and into the hallway. To his left was a hallway that lead to the shop and  a few feet ahead he could see the office manager’s door. As he approached it, he could hear music. To his delight, it was Led Zeppelin. When he entered the room, the woman looked up at him from the desk and his jaw slightly dropped. He hadn’t been expecting a woman as beautiful as she was. He stood there staring for a moment until she broke the silence.

“Hi. You must be Dean.” She stood up and walked around the desk. Dean couldn’t help but let his eyes travel up and down her body. She was wearing jeans that fit just right, hugging her curves in all of the right places and that flared slightly around her boots. She was wearing a plain black V-neck shirt with a mechanics shirt that matched David’s “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.” She extend her hand to Dean with a blinding smile on her face.

When Dean took her hand, he was surprised at how soft her skin was despite her very firm handshake. “Y-Yeah. Dean. Nice to meet you, too,” he stuttered.

David saved him by walking in the door. “I see you’ve met my daughter,” he said. “Turn the radio down.” He gestured to Y/N who turned the nob down to a whisper.

“Oh, I didn’t know she was your daughter,” Dean said. He looked back at Y/N who just smiled again.

“Shall we get started?” She suggested, taking a seat behind her desk again. 

Dean sat in a chair across from her and David sat next to Y/N. 

“So, Dean. It doesn’t look like you have ever worked as a mechanic before,” Y/N said, looking over his short resume. “But you say you’ve got a few decades of experience.” She looked up at Dean.

“No, I mean yes. Well, no I haven’t ever worked as a mechanic for a shop before but I do have a lot of experience. My dad taught me a lot and then I also learned as I went. I have rebuilt my car a few times. I do all of my own work on her. My other dad, well, my adopted dad, kind of, he owned a junk yard. I worked on a lot of cars at his place as well,” Dean explained. He took another deep breath and cursed himself for fumbling so much. 

Y/N and her dad nodded, exchanged a glance and Y/N smiled a little.

“I am mostly self taught as well,” David said to Dean. “Just classes in high school and college, mostly because it’s the only subjects I liked,” he chuckled. 

“It says you have been self employed all your life. Winchester Brothers. What did you do?” Y/N asked.

“My brother and I were in the business of... pest control.” Dean widened his eyes a little, realizing he didn’t actually know anything about exterminating bugs. He prayed they didn’t ask him details.

Again, the daughter and father duo nodded. Dean used the back of his hand to wipe the perspiration from his forehead. He hadn’t been this nervous about anything in awhile. It didn’t help that every time he looked at Y/N, his heart lurched as if it were reaching out to her.

“Dean,” David’s voice brought Dean back down to earth. “I like you. And I’m always right about people. You’ve got yourself a job. Y/N will get your shirt size and have a few made for you. I’ve got to get back out there. I’ve got an engine I need to finish a rebuild on by the end of the day.” David stood up, stumbled a little and groaned.

Y/N jumped jump. “Dad, why don’t you take it easy. I can finish the rebuild for you.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. She listened to Led Zeppelin, was beautiful, and could work on cars? He was impressed.

“I’m fine,” David snapped, causing Y/N to recoil and plop back down behind her desk. “Can you start tomorrow?” David directed at Dean.

“Yeah, definitely.”

“Great, see you at 7:30AM. We might have some old shop shirts you can wear until Y/N gets yours in. Have a good one.” With that, David lumbered out the door and disappeared.

Dean looked back at Y/N. Her eyes were glistening with tears but he could tell she was holding them back. “Are you okay?”

Y/N looked up, blinking back the tears. “Yes. I’m fine.” She cleared her throat. “What size are you, Dean?”

He loved the way she said his name. It was heavenly. “Large.”

“Okay. I’ll order you five shirts. Do you have a nickname you’d like on the name patch or is Dean ok?”

“Dean is fine. I don’t have a nickname.” Dean was now able to see the name patch on her shirt. It said Bud. “Is Bud your boyfriend?” He asked before his brain could tell his mouth stop.

Y/N looked down at her name patch. “Oh, no. My dad calls me Bud. Has ever since I was a kid. I have one or two with my actual name on it but the ones that say Bud are my favorite,” she explained as she stood up. “Come with me. I’ll get you a few shirts for the rest of the week. Your shirts should be in by next Monday.”

Dean followed Y/N out of her office and down the hallway. Next to a door labeled Parts there was a coat closest. Y/N rummaged through it looking for shirts. She handed him four.

“That’ll get through until Friday and Monday morning I should have yours in. Oh, what kind of car do you have?”

“67 Impala.”

Y/N eyes widened a little. “Can I see it?” Her voice was bubbling over with excitement. 

“Absolutely.”

Y/N followed Dean outside. “Wow,” she breathed. “She’s gorgeous. How long have you had her?”

“A couple decades,” Dean answered. He watched as her hand hovered over the hood. He could tell she wanted to touch it, run her hands along the shiny and warm metal. She curled her fingers and retracted her hand. “You can touch her,” Dean said through a small laugh.

Y/N turned to him, a smile on her face. She gently placed her hand on the hood, soaking up the beauty of the Impala. “I might have to talk to you into letting me drive her someday.”

Dean laughed. “Maybe. I barely let my brother drive her.”

“Fair enough. I won’t let anyone drive my truck.”

“What do you have?”

“66 Ford F100. Caribbean Turquoise. It was my dad’s first truck. I helped him rebuild it a few years ago.” She turned to face Dean. “Want to see it?” Her smile was so big, there was no way Dean could say no.

He followed Y/N around back and as soon as he turned the corner, he saw her truck. It stood out, the Caribbean Turquoise bright and shiny compared to the darker and more neutral toned cars around it.

“Oh, wow. It’s nice. How long did it take you guys to rebuild?” Dean peeked through the window. The interior was the same color, even the seat. The inside was immaculate.

“A few months. We had an advantage, owning a shop and all,” Y/N said, gesturing up at the building. She looked at the shop for a long time. Dean watched as she admired it and her eyes started to glisten again. “Well,” she broke the silence. She curled her index fingers under her eyes, pushing her eyes closed to soak up the tears. “We will see you in the morning, Dean. Have a good rest of your day.”

“Yeah, you too. See you tomorrow,” Dean said with a wave. He watched Y/N disappear around the building before making his way back to his Impala and driving away.

Three months into working for David’s shop, Dean had managed to learn a few things about Y/N. She loved classic rock, the Doors, 13th Floor Elevators and Zeppelin being her favorites. One of those three was always playing in her office. She was just as good as any one else in the shop at working on cars. She filled in when other mechanics called out or were on vacation. She also had a few of her own regulars who only would let her work on their cars. Her favorite color was Y/F/C and she loved rainy days. He also never once saw her wear a shirt with her actual name on it, only ones with Bud. 

Christmas time had rolled around and the company holiday party was on a Saturday night at a local pizza parlor. Everyone was allowed to bring their families or partner with them and Dean was anxiously waiting to see it Y/N would bring anyone with her. He’d never heard her talk about anyone at work. Never even saw her take a phone call to anyone but customers or vendors. No one stopped by to see her either. Just customers.

In the back seat of the Impala Dean had a gift for Y/N. It was a scarf in her favorite color. He had picked a scarf because sometimes, when he’d stop by her office to say good morning, she had the collar of her shirt pulled up. He asked her why and she said it was always cold in her office in the winter time. It was practical but also thoughtful. 

Dean walked into the pizza parlor. It was nice and warm inside so he shrugged off his jacket and straightened out his plaid shirt. He surveyed the room until he saw some of his co-workers, including David, in the very back. They all threw their heads back in laughter. Beer pitchers were empty on the table but not for long. Soon he saw Y/N walking over, gripping the handles of four beer pitchers, two in each hand. She spread them out across the table before turning towards the door. Her eyes landed on Dean and she smiled. She waved enthusiastically at him and made her way through the crowd.

“Dean!” She said, throwing her arms around him for a hug. Dean smiled, the smell of her shampoo tickling his nose. “Pizza and beer at the table already. I’ll grab you a cold glass.”

“Oh, no. It’s alright, I’ll go get it,” Dean protested.

“I’m going back up there to grab my dad another soda, I’ll grab it. Join everyone else.” She smiled and walked away towards the counter. He watched her go, her steps a little jagged from the beer she’d been drinking. He smiled to himself and approached the table.

Everyone greeted Dean cheerfully. He was introduced to everyone’s guests they had brought with them and he did his best to keep up with everyone’s names and which kids belonged with which couple. A beer was set down in front of him. He looked up to find Y/N standing above him. He smiled and thanked her. She sat down in the empty seat next to him with her own beer.

“I got us special ones. It’s actually my favorite from a local brewery. I hope you like IPAs.” She put the glass to her lips, taking a generous drink. “Try it!” She smiled at Dean, making his heart flutter. 

He complied, his eyes growing large. “This is really good!”

“Told ya,” she smirked. “Pizza?” Y/N put two big slices of pizza on a plate and sat it down in front of Dean before he could answer. She then helped herself to some as well. Dean couldn’t help but smile. A girl who liked pizza and beer. There she goes, he thought, checking more things off my list. A list he didn’t even realize he had until he’d met her.

As the night wore on, people started leaving. A few of the kids had crawled into the laps of their parents and fallen asleep. Their group got thinner and thinner until it was just Dean, Y/N and her dad.

“I’m heading home, Bud.” He hugged her and kissed her cheek. “Dean, thanks for coming.” He reached out to shake Dean’s hand.

“Thank you for having me.”

“Can you make sure, Y/N gets home okay? She walked here and it’s kind of late.” David eyed his daughter who was sipping on another beer.

“Definitely, sir.” 

As everyone left, Dean turned to Y/N. “Are you ready to head home?”

“I guess…” Y/N trailed off. She was lost in thought for a second. She downed the rest of her beer. “Alright, let’s go.” She stood up and lurched towards Dean, putting her hands onto his chest to catch herself. Dean instinctively wrapped his hands around her biceps.

“Whoa there,” he chuckled.

“Sorry. I am definitely a little bit buzzed.” Y/N laughed, her cheeks growing red.

“Don’t be sorry,” Dean assured her.

Dean lead Y/N out to his Impala and opened the door for her. He let her get in on her own, his hand close by just in case she needed it. 

“Oh! I’m honored to get a ride in Dean Winchester’s Impala,” she remarked. She looked up at him from the passenger seat, an enormous grin on her face. Dean couldn’t help but think she looked perfect in the passenger seat, as if she was always meant to be its passenger.

A few minutes later, Dean pulled up in front of Y/N’s house. It was a modest home in a nice neighborhood. All of the homes were older, built in the 50’s. Y/N’s was light green with a white porch and steps. Her F100 was parked in the drive way. It was the only car there, Dean observed.

“Do you want to come inside?” Y/N’s invitation caught Dean off guard.

“We won’t wake anyone up?” Dean posed the question carefully. He was prying for an answer, but didn’t want to be too obvious that he was trying to figure out if she was taken or not.

“Nope. This is my place. Just me. Party of one.” She smiled, her eyes slightly glassy.

Dean hesitated a moment. He got his answer but since Y/N had been drinking, he didn’t want her or her dad to get the wrong idea about him taking her home and ending up inside her house. He did want to give her the gift he’d gotten her though. “Okay. I have a gift for you.”

Y/N’s eyes lit up. “Really? I actually have something for you, too,” she said quietly.

Dean smiled and his heart, again, leaped forward, always in the direction of Y/N. “Let’s get inside, it’s getting cold.” Dean got out of his Impala, grabbed the gift box from behind his seat, and then walked around to open Y/N’s door. He held out his hand to assist her. She took it, squeezing his slightly as she hoisted herself out of the car. 

He followed her up to the door, she fumbled with her keys, first using the wrong one. “Oops, that’s my dad’s. They look the same as mine. Here it is!” The door creaked as she opened it. She stepped in side. “Welcome to my humble little home.” She gestured for Dean to come inside.

Y/N’s house had all hardwood flooring and was accented with Y/F/C, her favorite, and smelled like cinnamon. She walked over to the small Christmas tree she had in the corner and turned its lights on. The lights were white and the ornaments were all different kinds. There was no theme to her tree, just random ornaments she liked, ones that reminded her of people, places, and things. She grabbed one of the presents from under the tree. 

“Let’s sit on the couch and open them together.” She made her way to her couch and plopped down. She patted the cushion beside her, beckoning Dean to sit with her.

As soon as he sat down, Y/N shoved his gift from her into his lap. “Open it! I’m terrible at keeping secrets when it comes to gifts.” The grin on her face was bigger than he’d ever seen it before. 

He chuckled as he unwrapped the box and pulled the lid off. Inside was a few things. First was a nice, heavy duty travel coffee mug with his name on it. “So the guys at the shop know it’s yours” Y/N said through a laugh. One time, Dean and another mechanic had gotten their coffees mixed up. The other mechanic liked his coffee extremely creamy and sweet, Dean liked his black. Y/N had witness them both spit out each others coffee all over the shop floor. Next was a picture of Dean’s Impala in front of David’s shop. It was from a low angle, the car taking up the foreground with the shop’s sign hovering over it. There were raindrops on the Impala and the sky above was dark and angry. He looked at it in awe. It was a beautifully crafted shot.

“I thought it was a neat picture,” Y/N said quietly with a shrug.

“Did you take this?” Dean turned to her, awestruck. She nodded her head, a small, closed mouth smile on her face. “I love it. It’s… it’s a really beautiful shot. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Y/N smiled. “There’s one more thing in there.”

At the bottom of the box was a black mechanics jacket with Dean’s name on it. He pulled it out and turned it around to reveal the shop’s name on the back.

“That one is from my dad and me. Only he and I have one. And now you,” Y/N half whispered.

Dean turned to her, overwhelmed by the kindness and generosity she, and her dad, had shown him. They took a chance hiring him and now, they were giving him a jacket, something that clearly held a special meaning for the two of them. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. We’re so happy to have you be part of the shop family.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Dean taking in his gifts and Y/N watching him. He gently placed his gifts back into his box before handing Y/N hers.

“Now I feel like I should have gotten you a little more…” Dean trailed off.

“No,” Y/N said, dragging out the O’s, and waving Dean’s remark off with her hand. She pulled the bow off of the decorative box and popped the lid off. She pulled out the Y/F/C scarf Dean had picked out. She ran her hands over it, taking in how soft the fabric was. She wrapped it around her neck and looked up at Dean. “You remembered my favorite color.”

“Of course,” Dean said through a grin, his voice hushed. “Now you won’t be so cold in your office in the mornings.”

“Thank you, Dean. I love it.” Y/N pulled the ends of the scarf forward, taking in the details and feeling the warmth around her neck.

She looked up at him, and held his gaze for a moment. Then, she closed the gap between them to place a soft kiss on his lips. As she pulled away, Dean took a deep breath. He’d been wanting to kiss her for months and he didn’t want to stop now.

“It’s late. I should get going.” Dean stood up, gathering up his gift box.

Y/N followed suit, still wearing her scarf as she walked Dean to her door. He stepped out onto the porch and spun around to face her. She was holding onto the door, letting it support her. But not because she had been drinking, no. It was for a different reason. It was because kissing Dean had taken her breath away and made her knees weak. Her hands were trembling and she needed to steady herself, not wanting him to notice what he’d done to her, what he’d been doing to her since they had met in her office months prior. She had been pining for Dean, but she was so sure he had a significant other. There was no way a man as handsome, kind, funny, caring, and… her list went on. But there as no way, so she thought, that a man like Dean was single. 

“Do you want to go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?” Dean’s question pulled Y/N from her thoughts.

“I’d love that.” Her answer was quick, zero hesitation, and Dean noticed.

“Pick you up at 6?”

“I’ll be ready. Casual or fancy?” Y/N questioned.

“Which one would you like?” 

“Casual.”

“Casual it is, sweetheart.” Dean smiled, wished her good night and almost skipped back to his Impala.

Y/N waved to Dean in his car and closed the door, locking it tight behind her. She leaned back against it, letting out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She had a date, for the first time years. And, it was with the man of her dreams.

Tags: @akshi8278​, @notan-applepielife​

There is a pinned post with my Masterlist on my blog. Thank you for reading! 

[cadomoisspokenfor]

Ya know thinking about it, maybe there’s nothing more to Syds weird amount of trust for Farouk than gullibleness and pride.

There seemed to be a pattern of her not really internalizing the severity of Farouks crimes, she mostly just thought of him as an “asshole” throughout all the seasons and not someone doing deep long lasting damage to the people around her.

In chap 11 when they find the music box David ask what it is she says, “Nothing just your asshole parasite messing with my head.”

As if its Davids fault Farouks evil, or as if Farouks only a David problem, and not ya know, an extremely powerful supervillain bent on world domination.

I’m trying to figure out what Syds perception of Farouk was, so lets look at their major interactions.

1. Discovers his existence, chap 5. She was wondering what the problem in her and Davids relationship was and now she has someone to blame. I’ll point out, it’s likely she was only thinking of Farouk as an obstacle in the way of her and Davids relationship, and not as a horrifying abuser who’s had a chokehold on David for his entire life. Now the “mission” is clear, snip Farouk outta Davids head, everything’ll be perfect.

2. David and Amys childhood home, also chap 5. Farouk jump-scares them a few times. And I think as far as Syds concerned, that’s a cheap trick. She sheds a tear but then puts on a brave face and keeps moving. Just a horror show after all. None of it “real”. But then Lenny actually jumps out and attacks her, telepathically ties her up then starts grotesquely kissing David while he’s unconscious. And the way she talks, I think Syd internalizes Lenny as being like... a jealous ex. The kissing, the “you stole my man” type language. Man, this relationship obstacle just won’t get out the way. And then...

3. Mental Clockworks, chap 5-7. In the white room Farouk reveals his true form and chases Syd down which scares the shit outta her. But, important note, he doesn’t actually touch her before the delusion is put in place. It’s still very much not real.

Anyways, what’s a horrifying display of control and power for everyone else worked a bit differently for Syd. She was the only one who noticed anything was off. And she couldn’t place it for a while, which worried her, and she eventually gets incapacitated by Lenny. But then, she’s woken up by Cary who takes her into a phone booth and tries to update her on what’s happening, only she’s already figured it out. I’ll point this out as a moment of overconfidence, she’s visibly proud that she was able to see through the illusion. She’s not like the others, she’s a hero archetype. And being that means when Cary hands her the glasses and tells her to go save the others she’s super confident in her ability to do so. She’s the hero after all. And when she does put on the glasses she remarks, “She thought it’d be more interesting.” She’s actively downplaying this nightmare. I don’t hold it against her but my point in saying all this is that it comes back later. This is another instance of her thinking Farouk’s “Not that big a deal.” Underestimating his abilities. I mean, she saw through it after all, she could probably do it again if she needed too... right?

To summarize 3, Syd sees herself as the hero who saw through Farouks cheap illusion. She feels stronger than Farouk here, like he couldn’t hurt her (really hurt her I mean) even if he tried. And in that, she can’t relate to the others who treat it like a big deal or like a traumatizing moment in their adventure. It was just a standard hero vs villain fight to her. Really hope the points getting across cause this’ll come up later.

4. White room, chap 8. Another interaction with Lenny only this time she’s on the ropes, looking a lot worse for ware. Syds not scared of her anymore, or so she tells herself at least. She saw through Farouks tricks. She can do it again if she has too. Nothings gonna get in the way of her and Davids happily ever after. Except Lenny has a good point... she’s still inside David. Still attached to his mind. She could explode his brain if they try to rip her out forcefully. And David can’t handle himself against Farouk, Syd knows this. Cause Davids never won against Farouk up to this point. Getting out of Mental Clockworks was a team effort from her, Melanie, Cary, and Oliver. If it hadn’t been for the crown they wouldn’t’ve gotten out of their. Syds role in this was to keep Kerry and Rudy safe until Cary could complete his end of the plan. And she did. But David was helpless in that, as far she knows. So she, the hero, needs to do something. Just sitting around isn’t good enough. So... she switches with David again. Using a true loves kiss too, a truly fairy tale worthy action, one for the books.

She’s fully possessed now, completely outta control of her own body, but Farouk only used her to get Kerry. It’s a very short moment for Syd, she might not even remember it. When she wakes up she says, “Did we win?” She honestly might’ve just blacked out after the kiss. Because they’re not telepaths their minds are probably much easier to push to the side than Davids. She might not’ve really... experienced the possession is what I’m getting at. And she’s once again most concerned with David.

D: “You should not have done that, as much as I like kissing you.”

S: “It would’ve killed you.” She says that last line not in a concerned way, but in a playful-ish way. As if to say “Obviously I saved you. I’d destroy the world myself if it meant saving you.”

Ya know what, I’ll point out here also that David once again failed to beat Farouk. Syd managed to get Farouk out of his mind but David still couldn’t stop him in the real world.

5. Plaque, chap 9. As explained in show, Syds been part of the team hunting down Farouk and trying to stop him from finding his body. Before chap 12 she and everyone else is under the impression that Farouk is the source of the “maze virus”. A psychological plaque that freezes everyone in their tracks and causes them to chatter their teeth. Disturbing, but... just based on other stuff we know about the character... she probably doesn’t care that much. Her main focus is probably still David. And when David comes back, she immediately blames him for disappearing. Her context here being that he was found in the club they followed Farouk to, next to a bunch of teeth chatterers mumbling, “Help them. Their in the maze.” Clearly, he’s been somewhat involved with the events of the past year, so why hasn’t he contacted her? Why hasn’t he included her in it? Why’d he abandon her? He says he doesn’t remember anything? Ptonomy says otherwise. Clearly he remembers something. He’s keeping secrets. She gets why from the others, but why from her? They’re supposed to be a team. And he abandoned her, to go clubbing with Farouk or whatever it is that he was doing their.

6. Music box, chap 10. Davids back. Maybe she can just pretend things are normal. He leads them to the middle of nowhere and they find her old music box. Farouk. That asshole. His little jump scares and memory tricks won’t get to her. He can’t hurt her, remember? This is all he can do. Illusions, trick. And she’ll see right through them every time. Besides, was reminding her of her childhood really the best he can do? Yeah she’s got a childhood, so does everyone. She’s over it already. (I’m starting to type more and more in Syds perspective.)

6.5 Syd the illusion breaker gets caught in the maze, chap 12. Only... she’s out of it before David even enters her mind to save her. She sees that he’s there, doesn’t know why, but decides to use this as an opportunity to teach him a lesson. We all know the lesson though. The headline in this particular case is, “David never saved Syd from her maze.” He never even saw it. She doesn’t know what he’s talking about when she mentions it. He entered her mind but she’s the one in full control. Scary good control even, props to her. The lesson she’s trying to teach him is sort of... her own thought process on heroism. “Love can’t save us, it’s what we have to save.” Up to this point “love” is all Syds been fighting for. It’s been the driving force behind her heroism. She’s done some messed up things in her past, sure, but all her problems only made her stronger. They made her the “truth seer” she is today. They led her to David, the best thing that’s ever happened to her. No villain can hurt her more than she’s hurt herself. This all... obviously doesn’t translate perfectly to David. That’s just... not been his experience.

(Skippable David Tangent) Farouk hurt David the most that any one person could. And David couldn’t hurt himself more even if he tried. And all Davids pain hasn’t made him mentally stronger, less gullible, or less sensitive. The opposite in fact. Davids minds been split, unbeknownst to Syd. He’s in a constant state of confusion. He keeps getting tugged around by friends and enemies and doesn’t know what to do about it. Davids pain hasn’t shielded him at all, just caused him more strife. He’s even still being manipulated by his abuser. The survivor story just doesn’t work on him, at the moment at least. As far as Davids concerned his “strength” comes from his powers, and he didn’t get a choice in those either. Syd doesn’t see any of this, she’s not a telepath. She hopes her story will help him but... it really only applies to her. Back into her perspective though,

7. Lenny’s back, chap 15. I know this isn’t a Farouk interaction but it is sorta important. Davids not listening to her. She’s trying to remind him of the mission, trying to keep him focused, but clearly it’s not working. Losing his sister really affected him. She understands sure, but he won’t even talk to her about it. Love is what’s supposed to be used to help each other through these dark times, to make sure people don’t feel alone. But he’s isolating himself from her. He isn’t “saving love” he’s pushing it away. That’s not what heroes are supposed to do. Farouk is once again in the way of their love. She can’t blame David, and she knows it’s not her fault, so Farouk.

But the headline there is she’s downplaying his sisters death. As if it’s just another trick to mess with him, an obstacle to be hurdled over. Like the music box thing. But... his sister died. In fact... Lenny was more immediately comforting to him about it than either of the Syds were.

Syd still isn’t internalizing the pain Farouks causing to others. All she’s internalized is her own wins against him and the fact that he’s never permanently damaged her specifically. Or so she says. He’s still just a ghost in a haunted house.

8. Lenny talk, chap 16. Syd comes over to gloat. She sees through Farouks trick. Lenny’s not gonna frazzle her, or David. She’s just another obstacle to their happiness. Only Lenny drops a hard truth on her. And Syd doesn’t seem to want to hear it. She’s stunned at. Tbh... I think she walks away deciding not to believe her. It must be another trick. She just said that to mess with her (again, Syds thoughts). She really really wants to continue thinking of Farouk as “just some asshole” who they need to work with and/or defeat so her and David can finally have their happy ever after. At this point, if she actually started thinking of Farouk as dangerous to her, as a major threat, it’d feel like giving him power. The power of fear, over her. She refuses to be afraid of Farouk, cause she knows that’s how he tricks people. That’s how he controls them. So she doesn’t listen to Lenny. She resolves to continue downplaying Farouks crimes. A dog barking in peoples ears.

9. The cave, chap 18. In between this and the last one David left her again. He really doesn’t get what “saving love” means. But she dedicates herself to him again. If he won’t save love, she will. She’s a hero after all. She’s beaten Farouk in the past and she’ll beat him again if she has too. And then... the cave. Incorporating what another fan has said, even if Syd does pic up on Melanie being Farouk, she knows her future self wanted to work with him for some reason. He was the key to saving the world. He may be a house haunting asshole, but if he saves the world, then there’s gotta be something more to him... right? Melanie complains about Oliver some more, she’s over it. But then Melanie starts showing Syd images. Syd doesn’t know how she’s doing that, but some of the images are from very private personal moments. And they’re all centered on David. These must be memories. Both her and Davids. How Melanie is doing this can go on the back-burner for now, what is she trying to tell her with these? That Davids crazy? No, Farouk’s the one who was behind all these things. Davids “her man.” Her one true love. The problem in their relationship has always been Farouk.

But then... there are all those moments after she got Farouk out of his head. Him keeping secrets. Him not confiding in her, or being there for her. Him constantly leaving her behind. That’s not how love’s supposed to work. A psychopath? Well, when you say that... and you show these images on the screen... and you show him torturing Oliver ( a victim) to get to Syd. And enjoying it, almost like he just wanted the excuse to go all out. Like it’s not really about saving Syd. Or love for that matter. Syd maybe admits to herself at this point that Davids fairly unhinged. He’s had a rough childhood though, there were bound to be some sharp edges here and there. He tortures Oliver for a long time though. And it really starts to feel like he just likes doing it, not that he’s doing it cause it’s “necessary”. It doesn’t even work.

And then... Melanie shows her Future Syd. She matches the description David gave her. And there’s David, in those same pajamas he wears. And... he’s kissing FS. He didn’t tell her about that. It’s not cheating cause it’s her future self. But... they talked about this. David was the one to say it might feel weird. Why not tell her? Why keep that a secret. Even if it’s not cheating, it certainly feels like it. It’s a huge betrayal. And he doesn’t have Farouk as an excuse. Davids just... a bad person. She’s starting to piece together the point of all this. “Legion, The World Killer” yada yada.

David hasn’t been loyal to her. He hasn’t saved loved, he’s not going to save love. The path he’s on is dark and selfish. Could he destroy the world? They’ve known he could since season 1. They never thought he’d actually do it. But wait no, you can’t give up on love that easily. He’s a good person. And then Melanie shows it all again. And she shows him kissing Lenny. And she shows FS telling Farouk about David. And Syd can’t help but concede. Davids too far gone. Farouk may be an asshole, but David lied about everything. He lied to Syd. Again, Davids not going to save love, he missed the mark on that. Davids going to end the world.

Very important to point out here, as I’ve tried to build it up, Syds internalized herself as a hero who doesn’t let anything get to her. Farouk can’t hurt her with his illusions and tricks. She’s seen through them before and she’ll do it again. But David betraying her? Keeping secrets? Playing with her heart? That hurts more than anything Farouks done to her. She invested in David. She was on his side no matter what, but he wasn’t on her side. So if FS says Davids evil and has gotta go, than she’ll believe her. He’s gotta go.

All of this hopefully explains my theory on Syds specific moment-to-moment reasoning thoroughly

I also wanna say though, if I’m right this makes Syds moment on the mountain make more sense. All the specific unexplained discrepancies.

She says she knows it was Farouk who showed her all that. Because she doesn’t perceive Farouk as that big of a threat and again, as mostly a house haunter. Those were clearly memories, she doesn’t care that the infos coming from him, and she believes she can tell the difference between an illusion and something real. so Davids gotta answer for that.

She gets a detail wrong, she says “He went to see her, after you quit.” But we all know he saw her before David quit and specifically set him up. Syd doesn’t know David specifically broke their rules after they set them. She thinks he kissed her beforehand and didn’t tell her for whatever reason.

And again, she doesn’t fully understand what everyone around hers been through. Hence, “The son of sam” thing. To her, Farouk maybe evil, but you can see through his tricks if you just try hard enough. Even though he possessed her she didn’t really register it happening. At a certain point the things you do when he’s in your head are on you (says Syd).

Oh, and also majorly, the “Farouk, your enemy” thing. She never really care about him all that much. He was just an obstacle. David was the one who had a weird complex about him.

Tl;dr Syd doesn’t view Farouk as much of a threat. She doesn’t register or internalize the pain he’s causing to the others cause he’s not doing any of it to her. Syds main focus is David and when she realizes what Farouk’s showing her are memories, and that David’s betrayed her and isn’t planning on “saving love”, that hurts her more than anything Farouks done. Thus, she turns.

[pretend-writer]

Separate Ways (Finn Collins x reader)

Requested

Summary: [Based on season 2] Finn goes insane while looking for his friends that were taken from the Dropship while with Bellamy, Murphy and his girlfriend, Y/N. 

Pairing: Finn Collins x reader

Title Reference: Separate Ways x Craig David

Word Count: 1.4k

Warning: swearing, violence, mention of kidnapping

Note: shoutout for @letsmellowjello​ for the request! sorry it took so long, I’ve been busy. Hope you like it! Also another shoutout to @seiraswriting​ for the inspiration behind the fic ♡

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'He has to know where our friends are! He had Clarke's watch!' Finn shouted as he paced back and forth.

'I say we just keep torturing him, he'll talk eventually.' Murphy commented.

Bellamy huffed, 'He's not talking now. What makes you think he'll fess up later?'

After the bloody war with the grounders by the Dropship, our friends were gone. A lot of us were convinced that the grounders may have possibly taken them. Jasper, Monty, Clarke and some of the others disappeared without a trace, or so we thought.

While spying on the grounders at their camp, we saw one of them wearing Clarke's watch around his neck. Knowing that she would never give it up willingly, we were pretty much convinced that the grounders have done something to our friends.

Watching Finn nervously walking around like a lost puppy made me upset, especially because there was nothing I could do to help him ease the pain.

Ever since we've found actual evidence, he's been obsessed with finding them. It was starting to get bad and I was afraid it would get worse.

I walked up to my boyfriend and reached for his hand, trying to calm him down but I could see it was no help. He was still breathing heavily and his eyes were wandering. It scared me to see him like this, I've never seen him act like this before.

'Just take a deep breath, okay? We will figure something out.' I murmured, hoping he'd at least listen to me.

Murphy rolled his eyes, 'Come on. We don't have time for all of that.'

'Shut up, Murphy. I'm worried about our friends but I'm worried about Finn too.'

Finn sighed, 'I'll be fine once we find our friends. And Murphy's right, if we want something out of him we need to try harder.'

'What do you mean harder?' I asked nervously.

'Doing whatever it takes, of course.' He replied without hesitation.

My eyes widened and my heart dropped as I heard those words come out of his mouth. 'Finn, there are other ways we can approach this.'

'How!?' He quickly turned around and yelled as he was in my face. I froze, staring into his eyes and noticing the look in his eyes.

Finn was different; it was different from when he was defending camp or when he was angry when Bellamy bossed him around. The anger in him was deeper than I thought and quite frankly, it started to scare me.

He ignored my stare and approached the grounder that we took hostage. Pulling out his gun, he reloaded it and aimed it at the man.

'Woah, woah. This is crazy Finn. Let's think this through.' Bellamy exclaimed.

'We want to save our friends right? That means we have to do whatever it takes.'

Murphy shrugged. 'It's not like if we do get the answers from him, we're gonna let him flee. He can bring his friends and hunt us down next.'

I turned to Murphy with my brows furrowed, 'Are you kidding me? We're just going to murder him when we don't even have the answer? For all we know, they just looted the Dripship and didn't take our friends.'

Finn chuckled devilishly, 'You really think they just took our things? They've threatened us over and over in the past except now, they've finally got what they wanted; Revenge. Beaides, Murphy is right. We can't let him go.'

'We don't have to do this. There are other ways to solve the issue. We can just trap him here too, you know?' Bellamy said, I've never seen him so serious and less of a dick. For the first time, I actually agreed with him.

'Bellamy's right, Finn. Let me help, maybe we can do something else.' I approached him and grabbed onto his jacket, not knowing that that was a total mistake.

Finn shrugged me off, perhaps a little to hard as the butt of the gun hit me on my forehead. Not expecting such force or even expecting for him to react the way he did, I fell right on my back.

In shock, I was on the floor for a while trying to process what had happened. Finn rushed next to me, kneeling as he reached out for me with tears in his eyes. 'Y/N! I-I'm s-'

'Finn what the fuck! She's bleeding.' Bellamy approached me as well, checking on my wound on my head.

Tears streamed down my face from shock but mostly from disappointment. I lightly mumbled, 'What's wrong with you.'

'I didn't mean this, I'm sorry!' Before Finn tried to grip my hand, I immediately pulled it away.

Was he obsessed and getting high off of torturing this grounder that could possibly be innocent? Or was he genuinely caring for our friends that were gone?

Either way, my boyfriend scared me and I couldn't believe that he went far to where he hurt his own people. His own girlfriend.

With my sleeve, I wiped the blood off of my head. I bit my lip, trying to stop myself from crying as I looked into Finn's eyes. 'I can't believe you.'

While I heard bickering between Murphy, Finn and Bellamy from behind, I left the bunker alone. The person I loved so dearly wasn't the same person I knew from before.

Finn -

As I screamed Y/N's name, I saw her walking away from me and exiting the bunker. I never meant to hurt her, I would never do that to her. The fact I did hurt my heart more than ever.

Bellamy held his hand towards my chest as I tried to chase her outside. 'Let her be for a while, she probably needs space.'

'What do you know about her, huh?' I knew Bellamy meant well but all the rage in me made me yell at him. 'She's my girlfriend and I need to check on her.'

'We're just going to leave good ole dude here?' Murphy pointed at the grounder we were investigating.

'None of that is important right now-' I stopped my thought process, 'I mean it is but Y/N... Y/N.'

Panic rushed all over me, thinking of how her head started bleeding. I did that to my own girlfriend, I mean who does that? I preoccupied myself with finding our friends that I totally forgot the other things in my life that was important.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. 'Can I just- I need to talk to her.'

Murphy and Bellamy looked at each other and back to me. Shrugging, Murphy added. 'I don't see why you shouldn't but if he's dead when you come back it's not my fault.'

Bellamy hit him on his shoulder, 'We're not killing him, at least not yet.'

'So can I go?'

There was silence in the bunker, while Bellamy was in his thoughts. After a while, he sighed. 'Go do what you have to do.'

After getting Bellamy's okay, I quickly left the bunker hoping Y/N was right by but she wasn't. Now more than ever, I feared that something happened to her and it was all my fault.

'Y/N!' I yelled looking everywhere around the forest but there were no signs of her. My eyes started to tear up as I imagined the worst possible things in my head. The guilt grew in me more and more as I searched for her.

'What do you want?' I heard mumbling from under the tree, as she was curled up.

'I wanted to come and tell you that I'm sorry.'

Seeing her like this pained me, mostly because I was the cause of all of this. It should have never been like this, I was supposed to be the one protecting her and not hurting her.

'Please know I never meant to hurt you and I won't do it again.'

She nodded, 'I know.'

I kneeled by her, softly laying my finger on her cut that was still bleeding. 'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.'

'It's okay, I know you are.'

'Not it's not okay.' I grabbed onto her hands tightly, looking into her wet eyes. She'd been crying and it was my fault. 'I was trying so hard to look for my friends and I never was a good boyfriend to you in the process.'

'You're doing the right thing, you know? This is really important.'

'But Y/N, you're important to me too. I've been so wrapped up in all of this and forgot to appreciate that you're still with me. I'm truly sorry for that.'

Y/N nodded, wrapping her arms around me for a hug. 'I know it was a mistake. It just... just scared me a little that's all.'

'I'll be careful, okay? I promise, I promise.' I sniffled, wiping my tears away as I gave her a hug back. 'I love you, Y/N.'

[ohmightydevviepuu]

our little life (rounded with a sleep) / chapter 3

our little life (rounded with a sleep) chapter three

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful detective. She had blonde hair, green eyes, no family, and she was good at finding people; in fact, she proclaimed this on her office door. “Swan and Humbert,” it said. “Private investigations, missing persons, and bail bonds.”

Only lately, she's been thinking that maybe it should say "Emma Swan: Loner, Loser, Complicated wreck."

Her partner's been killed on a case after she made a deal with her landlord to find what had been taken from him. But when she tracks a possible perp to a bar on the outskirts of town, Emma will find out exactly how deep the rabbit hole goes.

--

always, always, always because of @thisonesatellite​​ and @profdanglaisstuff​ thank you AGAIN to the amazing team at @captainswanbigbang​

cw: canonical character death rating: T/M (implied violence, language) AO3 chapter one | chapter two | chapter three

chapter summary:   Emma’s tracked down her suspect but then he looks into her eyes like he can see her, like he recognizes her--

And it’s a big fucking problem. She doesn’t trust him.  They are not a team.  No matter what he says or how blue his eyes are when he reads her like an open book.

--

“I’m sorry if I’ve kept you waiting,” James Hook said. “A woman such as yourself deserves my full and prompt attention.”

His voice was familiar; exactly as she had heard it in her dream down to the cadence of his accent.

“Does that line ever work?” Emma asked.

His eyes twinkled with appreciation. “I,” he said seriously, “will let you know, yeah?”

He was wearing eyeliner, kohl smudged around his eyes. Blue button-up shirt--partially undone, matched his eyes, would look even better on the floor--buttoned waistcoat, jeans that showed off his--

Fuck.

Emma needed a drink before she ended up like one of the co-eds.

“MacCutcheon,” she said simply.

“How do you like it?”

“In a glass,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Tough lass,” he said with a laugh, pouring her a shot.

“Yeah, well,” she said, picking up the shot glass and downing it in one. The condensation left a ring on the cocktail napkin. “It’s been a long day, and I’m thirsty.” She looked around, taking in more of the place--anything to look at instead of staring at Hook and his partially-unbuttoned shirt. “What’s with all of the swords?” Emma asked, gesturing at a wall covered in weapons.

The Rabbit Hole fell on the upside of ‘dive’, but only just barely. Maybe it was the Edison bulbs. The soft yellow glow gave everything a patina of ‘vintage’ instead of ‘grimey’. 

“And what are those, boat hooks?”

“Aye,” he said.

“What are you, some kind of sailor?”

“In another life,” he said, the fake grin stretching across his face, “I served in the Royal Navy.”

“You’ve practically got an armory in here,” she said.

“That’s the idea,” he agreed.

“You don’t seem like the type of guy to collect old-fashioned weapons.”

“Aye,” he said again, the eyes twinkling--again. “I collect blondes from bottles, too.”

Emma was a natural blonde--probably another legacy from one of her parents. She returned his gaze and said only, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

There it was: the real smile. “Perhaps,” he said. “Perhaps I would. James Hook.” He held out his right hand to her, and Emma shook it, which was when she noticed that he only had the one.

“I know who you are,” she said.

“Ah,” he said. “So you’ve heard of me? Well, it’s always nice to leave an impression.”

“Oh,” Emma said. “You have. You’re handsome, and charming--”

“Do go on,” Hook said, shifting his weight against the back counter.

“The kind of guy who--now, stop me if I’ve got this wrong--steals a man’s wife and leaves a boy motherless, then keeps up the grudge by breaking into his home and stealing from him again.” Emma watched him during her recitation. This was her favorite part: skips always broke down when the hot piece of ass they’d been planning on nailing turned the tables and cuffed them.

Not in the fun way, either.

But Hook just looked at her, stepping forward again and bracing his elbow against the bar, his chin in his hand. His fingers curled against his upper lip, his eyes were wide and innocent, and the fake grin had returned; the change was so smoothly done it was--almost--imperceptible.

“Sounds like a lovely tale,” he said. “But I’m going to wager the truth is rather more gruesome.”

Emma was calm. She was focused. And he was not lying.

“Besides,” Hook said evenly, “I’m going to need you to be a mite more specific in your accusations; you see, I’ve had many a man’s wife.”

“And I need you,” Emma said, matching his tone, “to return what you’ve stolen.”

His smile--the fake smile--faltered. Just for a second. “Tell me something, love,” Hook said, leaning into her personal space, his eyes never leaving hers, “If a woman comes to you and begs you to take her away, is that theft?” He ran his tongue over his lower lip and winked at her.

“But--why would she leave him?” Emma asked before she could stop herself. The son, they had a son--

What were they even talking about?

“Because he was a coward,” Hook said easily. “Because she loved me.”

Emma pulled herself away from his gaze. Whatever was going on here--he wasn’t lying.

“So, lass,” he said, “you know who I am, but you won’t even tell me your name?”

“What fun would that be?” Emma said.

“If you’re helping Rump--Gold,” Hook said, with particular emphasis on the name, “I’m afraid you’re fighting for a lost cause.”

“I’m not fighting for anything,” Emma said, “except for my fee. Tell me what you know about Graham Humbert’s death.” She grabbed his wrist. “And I’m gonna let you in on a little secret--I’m pretty good at knowing when someone is lying to me.”

“He came in here the other evening, on the hunt,” Hook said, biting down hard on the ‘t’. “He often did. It’s rather a target-rich environment, as you can see.” He gestured at the crowded room and leered. “That’s the last time I saw him.”

Emma smiled, the kind that showed no teeth, that was small and controlled, and tightened her grip on his wrist. With her other hand, she pulled her phone out of her pocket, unlocked it and scrolled to David Nolan’s entry. “He came here looking for you the night he died,” she said. “A fact I think the sheriff--” Emma held up the phone to show him “--will find fascinating, don’t you?”

He started to pull away, but Emma twisted his wrist just enough to put pressure on it--enough that pulling away would make a scene and potentially force someone to call the sheriff anyway. The singer finished a song to a scattering of applause, and Emma kept her grip and her gaze on Hook.

“Well done, lass,” he said. Emma let go of him and his hand reached up to rub the back of his neck. He had rings on two of his fingers and his thumb, and a freaking earring, a black stud. “You’ll be Emma Swan, then.”

“There goes my air of mystery,” she deadpanned.

“On the contrary, love,” Hook said, licking his lips again. “You’ve bested me. I can count on one hand the number of times someone has done that.”

“Is that a joke?” Emma said drily. “Because you’re a terrible liar.”

“Ask me what you’ve really come here to ask, Swan,” he said, and something in his face had shifted, like he had dropped the act of whatever part he was trying to play. His eyes were serious and the tone of his voice had lowered.

“Did you kill him?”

“I did not,” Hook said.

Emma believed him. Shit.

--

“Now then,” Hook said. “Emma Swan. Bail bonds, private investigations. Twenty-eight years old?”

They weren’t in the bar anymore.

According to the paperwork Graham had pulled, Hook had owned The Rabbit Hole for more than twenty years--clearly a typo as the man appeared exactly as Gold had described him: mid-thirties, no more, no less. It was difficult to picture him running off with a woman Gold’s age.

He’s older than he looks, Gold smirked, and had looked at Emma in a way that made her want to shower. And rather partial, I’m afraid, to brunettes.

Emma had confirmation of this, at least, when Hook had called out to a beautiful brunette in a micromini, tights and an artfully ripped t-shirt. Lacey, my darling, cover for me here, will you?

She’d laughed and given him--and Emma--a wink, and it was obvious what she thought Hook and Emma were doing, and why they needed cover. I’ve got this, Jamie, she’d said.

And he’d taken Emma to a small but immaculate office, dimly lit, rimmed with books, and offered her a chair with a bow before taking a seat behind the desk. She’s new, Hook had said of Lacey, but she does the job like she’s been here for decades. Something about that had amused him; Hook seemed consistently to be amusing himself with jokes only he understood. Any man who kept a skull-and-crossbones on the wall was definitely a man with an unusual sense of humor--in fact, this room had a distinct nautical theme, with a red flag draped above the black one and an honest-to-goodness ship in a bottle on his desk, and it was all a far cry from the badly-curated murder-tinged whimsy that made up the decor of the main bar.

“That’s oddly specific,” Emma countered. “Do I, like, get a prize if you’re right?”

“An educated guess,” Hook answered, and said nothing else as his eyes settled over her. Emma felt like she was being evaluated; not the first time that had happened, and she had no idea what he thought he was looking for.

“So, then,” he said. “Your Graham Humbert came looking for me.”

“He wasn’t my anything,” Emma said quickly. Maybe too quickly.

“Aye,” Hook said. “Of that I’m well aware.” He twisted his thumb against the metal of one of his rings and broke eye contact, looking down and away from her. “We weren’t friends, you know. Barely even acquainted. But you might say that we had certain connections in common.” Hook looked at her quickly and looked away again. “I hadn’t seen him in as long as I can remember.”

There was something strange underlying the words. Not a lie, but not the truth. And something about the phrase tickled Emma’s memory, like she had heard it somewhere before.

“He was involved with Regina Mills,” Emma said, realizing it at the same moment she said it.

“Indeed he was.” Hook made a sound, almost like a bark, and it took Emma a moment to realize it was a laugh. There was no amusement in it. “You wouldn’t know it to look at him, but she rather held his heart in her hands.”

Emma winced.

“Apologies, love,” Hook said quickly, and with apparent sincerity. “That was in rather poor taste, I admit.”

“You were too, weren’t you?” Emma asked instead of acknowledging his half-assed apology. “Involved with her?”

Another harsh laugh escaped him. “Indeed I was,” he said, “though not in the way you’d think. I did some work for the family. A long time ago.”

Emma smirked. “A man who used to be a sailor and now owns a bar?”

“‘Used to be’ is right, Swan,” he said, “but one might consider the bar payment.” He did that thing again, where he over-emphasized the harsh consonants. “For services rendered.”

“You realize you are the only one in this entire neighborhood who owns their property outright instead of paying rent to Robert Gold?”

“Am I?” He examined his fingernails. “That’s fortuitous.” It was obscene, the way Hook made words sound, but Emma knew a distraction when she saw one. This man used words as deflections, armor not unlike her collection of leather jackets.

“She came to see me,” Emma said.

“Did she?” That got Hook’s attention. “And what did you think of Her Majesty the Queen?”

“Her what now?”

“Regina, love. Latin.”

“You speak Latin?” Emma’s eyebrows definitely went up.

“And Greek,” he pointed out, smirking.

“They teach you that in the Royal Navy?”

“Something like that,” he agreed.

Emma’s head was beginning to hurt. This was shaping up to be the world’s worst first draft of “Who’s on first”--she wasn’t getting anywhere, and she needed another drink.

“What did she want?” Hook asked, and for the first time, there was genuine curiosity in his tone. He twisted behind him, pulling out a bottle, then repeated the process and came up with two glasses pinched between his thumb and forefinger, placing one in front of her. He pulled the cork with his teeth, poured himself a shot, and then gestured at her with the bottle.

Emma gave him a look.

“You’re something of an open book, Swan,” Hook said, the picture of innocent hospitality, “or did you not want another drink?”

“Regina wanted to know,” Emma said, ignoring his outstretched hand, “what I was doing about Graham’s death.”

“Don’t make a man drink alone, love.”

“I don’t want a drink,” she lied. “Or a man.”

Hook pouted. “Now who’s not telling the truth?”

Emma took the bottle from his hand and poured herself three fingers’ worth.

“I do find that spirits can be an excellent solution to so many of life’s problems,” Hook said with false cheerfulness, “so I am glad to see that you are making progress.”

Emma left the glass on the desk and leveled a glare at him.

“Are you?” he said, raising his eyebrows, “making progress?”

There was a knock on the door at the same time as it opened, and a young man stepped in. Nearly as tall as Hook, he had long, dark blonde hair that he’d slicked back, leaving some fringe to fall messily at his temples.

“Alright, Liam?” Hook said.

The young man--Liam--coughed and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, only Lacey said you were back here--”

“And you wanted to interrupt?” Hook asked, a mix of exasperation, fondness and something sharper in his voice.

Liam shrugged.

“Swan,” Hook said, “allow me to present my lit--younger brother, Liam, who was just leaving.”

Emma nodded at him, with his slightly-less-blue eyes and the curious way they watched her.

There was a look in Hook’s eyes as his brother walked out that Emma was not prepared to acknowledge. She pushed her untouched tumbler of rum back toward him and snapped, “Enough. Why did Graham come here to see you?” Emma demanded.

Hook shrugged.

“He tracked you down through property records,” Emma said. “Because the Mills Organization paid you in real estate for work you did for them a long time ago?”

“So it would seem,” he said.

“You know it says on the deed that you’ve been the owner here for as long as I’ve been alive?”

“Does it?” he smirked. “And yet I’ve retained my youthful glow.”

There it was again--not a lie, but not the truth.

He’s older than he looks.

Emma sat, toying with the tumbler she had pulled back toward her seat, running her forefinger around the ring of the glass and saying nothing.

“What can I say, Swan,” he said. “‘I contain multitudes.’ Not unlike your Graham Humbert.” He looked at her as though he was expecting a reaction; Emma stared at him.

“Is that supposed to mean something?”

“Ah,” he said, as though to himself. “Not a believer, then--well, surely that will stop you getting killed.”

Hook considered her for a moment before tossing back his shot, then said: “Walt Whitman, lass. American poet.”

“Didn’t study poetry at any of the high schools I got kicked out of,” Emma said. “What does my listening to you recite poetry and mutter to yourself have to do with Graham?”

Hook shook his head. “Absolutely nothing, love,” he said. “Merely pointing out that you might be surprised by what they teach you in the Royal Navy.”

“You don’t know anything about what I believe,” Emma said sharply.

His blue eyes blazed. “I know that everything you think you believe is wrong,” he said.

“A man is dead, Hook,” Emma said. “I need you to stop fucking around and give me back whatever it is you’ve taken.”

“She’s dead, Swan,” he said sadly, the fire gone just as quickly as it had come, “and whatever that bloody crocodile has you looking for, I don’t have it.”

He had that look again.

Crocodile.

“Just like Milah, when the crocodile took her from me.”

“His wife?” Emma said. “Look, I’m sorry she died, but Graham--Graham was murdered.”

“Died,” Hook snorted. “Like it was some kind of accident--”

“That’s not what I said,” Emma protested, feeling suddenly on the defensive.

“--lass, it was no more of an accident than Humbert laid out in the alley.” Hook poured himself another shot and held it. “And you, Swan, helping him? I fear we’re working at cross purposes.”

“I’m just here to retrieve something on behalf of my client,” Emma said, exasperated and confused, “and to get paid Same as Graham, only he ended up dead and I would prefer to avoid that.”

“It’s a shame, really, Emma,” he said, apparently not listening. “I think we could make quite the team.”

“And what,” Emma wanted to know, “would our objective be?”

Hook paused and looked at her before he drank the second shot, and Emma still had no idea what he was looking for. He took a breath and said: “To avenge your partner,” he said, as if it would be that simple. “To exact revenge on the man who took my hand, Rumplestiltskin.”

--

“Swan!” Hook called, rushing after her. “Swan, wait up!”

Emma was ten or fifteen feet out the door of The Rabbit Hole when she doubled back quickly and pushed herself against him. “Whoa!” she cried. “Whoa, whoa, whoa.”

Hook smiled at her and pulled them closer together. “It’s about bloody time.”

Emma hit him. “I seem to have a shadow,” she said, gesturing at the figure running into the darkness--the one that had lunged itself at her and forced her up against Hook.

“I suppose,” Hook said, pretending to consider it, “that’s a plausible excuse for grabbing me, but next time don’t stand on ceremony.”

Was the man insane? “Do you have any idea what you sound like right now? Who the fuck is Rumplestiltskin?”

Hook’s face fell. “I sound like a crazy person,” he said. “Apologies, love, I realize Humbert didn’t--” He paused, took a breath. “Would you settle for ‘dashing rapscallion’?”

“Excuse me?” Emma stuttered.

“As opposed to ‘crazy person’, Swan,” Hook pushed, and then leaned in closer at her continued silence, angling his head so their eyes were level. “Scoundrel, perhaps?”

He was close enough to--

He was very close.

“I think, Swan,” he said, very softly, his eyes boring into hers, “that you are not the only one with a shadow. Don’t turn,” he warned, “just look at me.”

The full focus of this man’s attention was nearly unbearable. Emma desperately needed to break eye contact and maintain her wits, which was how she noticed the red streak on his shoulder.

Where she’d grabbed him.

Unfortunately, that drew his eyes to the spot as well, and he knew immediately what it was.

“Swan,” he said, and he sounded disappointed. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s nothing,” Emma insisted. “Just, the jerk who came after me must have had a knife or something.”

“Give me your hand,” Hook said.

“What?” Emma said, trying to pull away.

He wouldn’t let her. “It’s cut,” he said, getting impatient. “Let me help you.”

“No,” Emma said, taking a definitive step back. Hook countered by stepping forward, back into her personal space. “It’s fine.”

“Swan,” he sighed. “It’s not.”

And he ran his hand down her arm, curling his fingers around her wrist and lifting it for closer inspection, balancing her hand on his left wrist against his prosthetic.

“I’m not taking medical advice from a man who has named himself after a character in a fairy tale and who thinks my client can spin straw into gold,” Emma muttered. “Not even when he suddenly decides to be a gentleman.”

Hook’s face twisted, that already-familiar smirk pulling at his mouth as he took something out of his pocket. “I,” he said, and his tone was serious in spite of his expression, “am always a gentleman.” He looked at Emma through eyelashes that were thicker than hers were after several rounds of lash primer as he repeated his bit with the cork and moved to pour the contents over the small slash in her palm.

“What is that?” Emma asked suspiciously, then swore as the liquid hit her skin.

“It’s rum,” Hook said. “And a bloody waste of it.” He handed the flask to her before she could refuse and pulled out a handkerchief from his coat pocket, pressing it into her hand before Emma could try to pull away again and tying it off with his teeth.

Just--his teeth . Why?

His eyes never left hers, not even as he stepped away from her.

“He’s gone,” Hook whispered.

Emma sighed and took a swig of the rum in resignation. “Scoundrel it is, then,” she said, taking a definitive step backward and crossing her arms across her body in the universal signal for back off. Because she knew what he was doing, she had seen this movie before, and it hadn’t ended well.

They were not a team.

They could not be a team.

“Why were you following me?”

“I wanted to continue our conversation,” he said. “Is that so hard to believe?”

Emma shook her head slowly.

He grinned, shrugged. “And," he said, "I would like to see Regina Mills. I was hoping you would be so kind as to facilitate transportation.”

“You don’t drive?”

“I don’t drive a car,” Hook said. “It’s not by choice that I live here in the city, love, it’s by necessity.”

Emma felt her resistance wavering. “What makes you think I’d be willing to help you?”

“You seem,” Hook paused, as if searching for the correct word, “motivated.”

“What happened to cross purposes?”

“I look at this very simply,” Hook said. “I help you get what you want, and it gets me what I want. No more, no less. Besides, I find that I quite fancy you--when you’re not yelling at me, that is.”

“I don’t understand you,” Emma said.

“The mystique is part of my charm, I assure you,” Hook said, raising his eyebrows.

But she had already given in to whatever scheme this was, had given in the minute she pushed herself against him.

The minute he had held her arm and pushed into her space.

Emma gestured for him to go ahead, and they started walking to her car. Hook took in the careworn yellow Beetle with a grin on his face. “Quite a vessel you captain here, Swan,” he said, pulling the door open on the passenger side.

“It seemed like the best choice at the time,” Emma said softly, meaning it, momentarily hating herself for how wrong she had been--and how much this felt like the same beginning all over again. She ran a quick address search on her phone and came up with nothing; it was odd, given the extent of the Mills Organization’s influence.

“I know where she lives, lass,” Hook said. “I’ll navigate.”

Emma pulled out of her spot, the silence growing between them, interspersed at odd intervals with his muttered directions until he spoke. “You know, Swan, most people would find your silence off-putting, but I should warn you that I love a challenge.”

“No challenge,” Emma said. “I’m not looking for someone who’s gonna give his heart to the world, or some true love riding to my rescue.”

“But?” Hook prompted.

“I mean,” Emma said, dripping with sarcasm, “somewhere in the universe, there's gotta be a guy who'll keep me warm when I'm cold, feed me when I'm hungry and maybe, on occasion, take me dancing.”

“No,” he said. “That’s not it. You’re afraid--to talk, to reveal yourself.”

“Am I?” Emma said flatly. “What are we doing now? What happened to ‘a bit of an open book’?” She finished with a horrible imitation of his accent.

“You’re afraid to trust me.”

“Afraid to trust the guy who believes in fairy tales, Captain Hook?” Emma snorted. “However did you guess?”

“Bartender’s a sympathetic ear, love,” Hook said, “but I don’t need you to share. You have that look in your eyes.”

Emma’s entire body went still.

“The one,” Hook said, as if she didn’t already know--didn’t own a freaking mirror--hadn’t seen the look on his face that very night, “you get when you’ve been left alone.”

“Now I’m some kind of lost girl?” Emma forced herself to laugh. “Nice try, Hook, but my world ain’t Neverland.”

He made a noise, halfway between the unamused bark-laugh and a sigh, and said: “My point, Swan, is that an orphan’s an orphan.”

Emma said nothing, but Hook pressed on. “And True Love--well, that’s the rarest magic of all, or so they say. Have you ever even been in love?”

Emma narrowed her eyes at him, took a deep breath, and lied. “No,” she said simply. “I have never been in love.” She pulled the car against the curb and turned off the ignition. “We’re here,” she said.

“Who’s the guy, Swan?” he said, and his voice was almost free of affect. She could--almost--believe he meant it.

“What guy?” Emma said, because fuck him and his open-book bullshit.

“The one,” Hook said as if it was obvious, “who left you with such a high opinion of me.”

Emma got out of the car and slammed the door shut behind her.

--

@kmomof4​ @shireness-says​ @spartanguard​ @optomisticgirl​ @eirabach​ @winterbaby89​ @stahlop​ @teamhook @iamlaxdris71 @snowbellewells​ @carpedzem​ @scientificapricot​ @ultraluckycatnd @therealstartraveller776 @wyntereyez @nikkiemms @searchingwardrobes​ @courtorderedcake​

[swanqueeneverafter]

Sins of the Past Pt.16

Camelot. Dungeons. (Lancelot, Merida, Belle, Xena and Gabrielle continue to fight Morgana's guards alongside the now-freed knights of Camelot. While Xena kills the last guard, Guinevere arrives.) Lancelot: "Guinevere. What are you doing here?" Guinevere: "Morgana sent me… to talk to you, to make you see sense." Merida: "They've bewitched her!" Guinevere: "No, listen to me. I’m going to help you escape." Gabrielle: "I'd say you're a little late for that." Guinevere: "You may have escaped your cells, but only I know all of Camelot's secret passageways. Come on, it's this way." (Watching discreetly from the top of the winding staircase, Morgana and Morgause see and hear everything.) Morgana: "It is as we suspected. She’s betrayed me." Morgause: "I'm afraid so, my sister. But wait, this is still a good thing. Let her lead the rebels from the castle, it will give us just cause to execute them all."

Wonderland. (Will and Ella walk back towards the Underland, Will carrying the Forget-Me-Knot over his shoulder.) Ella: “The way you talked to that poor man, you were really getting through to him.” Will: “I'm a thief. Playing parts is what I do.” Ella: “I don't think you were playing a part. You were identifying with him.” Will: “Ah, bollocks.” Ella: “Is it? He was heartbroken, and you saw that.” Will: “Yeah, well I know what we won’t see, and that’s your mother through this thing. I’m sorry, Ella, but you’ve seen how this thing works now. We can’t just hold this thing up and walk over ever last millimeter of Wonderland in the hopes of seeing her.” Ella: (Nods:) “I know, you’re right. But what it can do is settle your debts with the Caterpillar, and that will mean that you can focus on helping me without looking over your shoulder all the time.” Will: (Looking at the sun setting on the horizon:) “Looks like we'll just make it.” Ella: “What are you waiting for? Time to clear your name.” Will: “I've been thinking.” Ella: “Oh, no.” Will: “And maybe you were right. Handing this thing back to the Caterpillar might be a truly horrible idea.” Ella: “What do you mean?” Will: “Well, he's not exactly Wonderland's chief humanitarian now, is he?” Ella: “No.” Will: “Chances are he'll use it for the same way he uses everything - to hurt people.” Ella: “But if you don't hand it over to him, you'll spend your remaining days as a desk ornament.” Will: (Shrugs this off:) “Pah.” Ella: “That thing is your key to freedom, for you to no longer be a hunted thief.” Will: “Actually, being a thief ain't up to anyone but me. If I give this to him, then I went to steal this thing for me, that makes me a thief. But if I don't give it to him, well, then I got it for you.” Ella: “And what does that make you then?” Will: “Hopefully someone with a shred of humanity left.” Ella: (Smiles:) “No ‘hopefully’ about it.” (Will holds up the knot, strikes a match from his pocket and sets light to the rope. The resulting smoke rises into the air and vanishes.) Camelot. Forest. (Pursued by Morgause and her men, the escapees run through the forest.) Belle: "They’re almost upon us!" Merida: "We need to get out of this valley!" Lancelot: "I can buy you all some time. You need to go. Run!" Guinevere: (Grabbing his arm:) "I won't leave you!" Lancelot: "Camelot needs you." Xena: "Camelot needs both of you. Gabrielle and I have got this. Go! We'll be right behind you." (Gabrielle and Xena stand back to back, taking on several soldiers before Xena is able to release her chakram.)

(The weapon arcs upward and across the valley, dislodging some large boulders to cause a rockfall, creating an impasse for the soldiers. Before Xena can catch the chakram however, she is knocked backwards by the force of Morgause’s magic. Inches from disaster, Gabrielle jumps and flips, catching the weapon in mid-air. Snarling up at the sorceress, Xena is ready for round two when Gabrielle grabs her.) Gabrielle: “Not now, let’s go!” (As they retreat, Morgause chants and blasts the rocks away, clearing the path for her soldiers. Arriving at the end of the valley, the escapees find Regina, Emma, Hook and Rumplestiltskin waiting for them beside the Sorcerer’s door. One by one, the knights, Lancelot and Guinevere and Merida run through the door to safety, Belle running into her husband’s arms.) Rumplestiltskin: “Oh, Belle, I’m so glad you’re safe.” Regina: (Seeing the soldiers running towards them:) “Not yet she isn’t. Go through the door. Now!” (Standing aside to let Xena and Gabrielle run through the door, Regina steps forward, sending fireballs at the soldiers, scattering them. Before Emma is able to use her own magic, she is knocked backwards by Morgause. Conjuring a fireball in each hand, Regina shoots them at Morgause who deflects them effortlessly.) Morgause: “Well if it isn’t the Evil Queen. Let’s see if you can live up to your reputation.” Regina: “Bring it, bitch.” (Both women send sparks of magic towards each other, neither managing to gain ground on the other. Finally getting to her feet, Emma joins the magical battle. The combined magic of the married couple blasts Morgause backwards. Taking their chance, Regina and Emma escape through the Sorcerer’s door. Helped to her feet by two soldiers, Morgause watches the door disappear, silently impressed by the combined force of the Savior and the Queen’s magic.)

Somewhere In Some Other Woods. (Walking through the forest together, Henry and Richard really are quite lost.) Henry: “Please stop talking.” Richard: “Well, no need to get snippy with me, you’re the one who didn’t think to bring a map. Wonderland can’t be too far away now. Do... oh, no.” Henry: “What ‘oh, no’?” Richard: (Looks around, turning in a circle:) “Oh...No.” Henry: “‘Oh, no,’ what?” Richard: “I think I may have led us into the Enchanted Forest, and that is not good. My father warned me to stay away from here at all costs. There's a queen... An evil queen... In fact, once my father and his best friend/camping buddy, Keith, who... I called him Uncle Keith 'cause he was always around...” Henry: “Spit it out!” Richard: “They wandered in here, and Uncle Keith was never heard from again.” Henry: “Oh, great. Oh, yeah. Mm-hmm, typical. God, can't anything go right?!” Richard: “You’re just gonna keep walking?” (They walk a short distance and come to a stop outside a moss covered building.) Henry: “Oh. (Reads the notice:) ‘Happy Hour’? (Sees the sign:) The Enchanted Forest is a pub. (Exhales sharply:) God, you actually had me scared for a minute there.” (Together, they enter the establishment.) Storybrooke. Mayor's Office. (Snow White, David, Grumpy and Happy stand opposite two of the knights who accosted the dwarves earlier.) Knight 1: "By order of her Majesty, Queen Morgana, I am here to arrest Emma Swan." Snow White: "Well, first of all, it's Swan-Mills. Secondly, she's not here, and third-" David: (Rolling up his sleeves:) "She's our daughter and you're going to have to go through me." Snow White: (Calmly:) "David, please, let's hear what they have to say. What is your name, Sir..." Knight 1: "My name is Sir Mordred. Your daughter is charged with the murder of Camelot's King. Be assured that even though Arthur was her brother, Morgana has insisted that there be a fair trial." David: "Oh yes, because Camelot has a history of fair and just rulers." Mordred: (Ignoring this, to Snow:) "Where is your daughter now?" Snow White: "On vacation, with her wife and daughter. We're not exactly sure where they went. (Looking to her husband:) David, did they mention where... (David innocently shakes his head. Shrugs, to Mordred:) Daughters. You know how secretive they can be." Mordred: (With a curt smile:) "Indeed." Robin Hood: (Entering:) "I may be able to shed some light on their whereabouts. (Nods to Snow and David. To Mordred:) They're currently outside laying waste to your two colleagues. Lancelot and Guinevere are with them, so if you're feeling lucky, you and your little friend here, (Looks the other knight up and down:) could nab yourself all of Camelot's enemies in one fell swoop."

Mordred: (With another insincere smile:) "Make no mistake, we shall be back with reinforcements and next time, I will have your daughter." David: "Over my dead body." Snow White: "And mine." Regina: (Entering, her eyes full of rage:) "And mine! You tell your Queen and her lapdog that there's no way in hell I am letting either of them anywhere near my wife!" Mordred: (Infuriatingly calm:) "We shall see." (Conjuring a fireball into her hand, Regina is about to hurl it at Mordred when he vanishes. Realising that he is now along amongst very unfriendly faces, the remaining knight runs quickly towards the door and out of sight.) David: (Grabbing his jacket:) "I'll get him. Robin, let's go." Outside Town Hall. (While Lancelot and his men restrain the other two knights, Emma turns at the sound of running footsteps. After almost getting knocked down by the remaining knight, Emma is spun around again, this time by her father.) Emma: "Dad, what the hell?" David: "No time to talk now, (Tossing the keys of his truck to Robin:) we've got this!" (Before she can say anything, Emma watches as David and Robin Hood pile into David's truck and speed away in pursuit of the last knight.) Camelot. Chapel. (Morgause meets with Morgana to relay the news.) Morgause: “They were lucky to escape. I’m sorry, Sister.” Morgana: “What can they do? Guinevere and Lancelot have but a handful of men. We have Bayard’s soldiers and Camelot’s army at our disposal.” Morgause: “Yes, but whist Guinevere lives, the people will not yield.” Morgana: “Then we will make them. Let it be known that Guinevere freed Camelot’s enemies and betrayed m- (Corrects herself:) us all. Tonight we will have a gallows built, and tomorrow, one by one, we will put an end to the knights of Camelot.”

Storybrooke. Mayor's Office. (Regina and Emma sit alone with Maria sleeping beside them.) Emma: "You know, they're not wrong. I did kill Arthur." Regina: "You were protecting yourself from a madman who had threatened your family if you didn't surrender to his will." Emma: "I still had a choice. I chose to kill him. You saw what happened when I did, I was fully embraced by the Darkness after that." Regina: "Which means you've already been punished. And redeemed for that matter. If it wasn't for you, there would still be a Dark One. Never mind the fact that the Darkness was created in Camelot in the first place. Not that you'll ever hear them admit that of course." Emma: "I don't think it was technically created there, but you can work out the finer details and be ready to defend me by the time my trial starts." (Realising Emma is trying to lighten the mood, Regina takes a deep, calming breath.) Regina: "Morgana doesn't care about Arthur's death. How could she when it was her brother who poisoned her all those years ago? Morgana just ousted a beloved Queen and needs to change the conversation. The people of Camelot don't know her, so Morgana has to show that she can be a tough but fair ruler. This whole idea of a trial is nothing but political theatre." Emma: "Kind of like when you had Leopold killed and blamed Snow for his murder?" Regina: "Exactly. (Thinks a moment:) God knows why your mother still speaks to me after all I've done to her. (Tilts her head:) But then again, after five minutes of talking with her, I'm not so sure the silent treatment would be such a bad thing." Emma: (Smiling:) "Please try not to turn our daughter against her grandmother. We’re going to need as many babysitters as we can get." (They both stop and take a moment to look at the slumbering child between them.) Regina: "All I'm saying, is that you can't let this bother you. We both know how you can get when you're feeling angry or persecuted." Emma: "Oh that is not fair. That hasn't happened since... well it's been a long time." Storybrooke. Past. Main Street. (Walking together after a rough magic lesson, Regina and Emma talk over Emma's issues.) Emma: "It's like I just can't seem to control it." Regina: "That's because your magic isn't born from anger or hatred. Your magic comes from love, from the desire to protect those around you. When the Snow Queen pushed your buttons and made you angry, your powers surged out of you in a way that you'd never experienced before." Emma: "Gold always said magic is about emotion." Regina: "And he's right. Emma, before I met you, I thought that any magic or power that I had came from darkness. You showed me that there was another way." Emma: (Nods:) "When you defeated Zelena. Hasn't your magic ever faltered?" Regina: (Shrugs:) "When Gold first brought it to Storybrooke, it took a little while for my magic to come back. But I have both light and dark magic, so if one fails-" Emma: "The other takes over. So shouldn't I try and... I don't know, tap into my dark magic. As a backup?" (They walk in silence for a few paces as Regina considers her answer.) Regina: "The thing is, Emma, the strength of your Savior magic is so powerful that it dwarfs my dark magic. If we were to attempt to access your darker side, I'd be concerned about possibly diluting the purity of your light magic." Emma: (Smiles at this:) "Oh I think we both know I'm not that pure." Regina: (Chuckles:) "Well, this is true. In certain instances you've proven to be downright devillish." Emma: "I've obviously had the perfect teacher." Regina: (Smiles:) "You've plenty more to learn and I'm more than eager to teach you." Emma: "Sounds intense." Regina: "It can be." Emma: "Promise?" (With a wave of Regina's hand, both women disappear in a cloud of smoke.)

Mayor’s Mansion. (Re-appearing outside the front door to the mansion, Emma's lips are upon Regina's before the brunette can even find her keys. Noticing Regina's struggle, Emma waves her own hand and they re-appear at the top of the stairs, each woman now pulling at the other's clothes. As the intensity of their kissing increases, Regina finds herself being guided towards the window seat. Letting out a moan when Emma straddles her lap, Regina grips the blonde woman's hips, grinding her down against her thigh. Letting out her own moan, Emma latches onto Regina's neck, breathing heavily into her ear.) Emma: "Enough foreplay." Regina: "I couldn't agree more." (With a final wave of her hand, Regina transports them to the bedroom, her bra somehow landing on the door handle in mid-flight. As Emma shimmies out of her jeans, Regina puts a knee up on the chest at the bottom of the bed and, growling, begins to crawl on all fours before lowering herself into the arms of her favourite student.) Storybrooke. Present. (On the run, the remaining knight, Grif, rides off on his horse, with David driving his truck in pursuit. Robin Hood rides shotgun.) David: "Hold on!" Grif: (In the distance:) "Hyah! Hyah!" David: (To Robin:) "Take over! Speed is feet, direction is hand. (David climbs into the back of the truck while Robin Hood takes the wheel. Grif pulls his horse off-road. Banging the truck’s roof:) Circle around!” (David picks up a wooden plank from the truck bed and uses it as a joust to knock Grif off the horse.) Wonderland. The Underland. (The Caterpillar stares closely at the hourglass on his desk.) Caterpillar: “Mmm. Not much time left, Knave. (Suddenly the music stops playing and everyone turns towards the entrance:) Well, speak of the devil.” (The crowds part, revealing...) Morgause: “Expecting someone else?” Caterpillar: “Yes.” Morgause: “Pity. Now, I want you to tell me everything you know about Emma and Regina. Everything.”

[leolupus]

The Last of Us Au (3/4)

Fall

Winter

You were able to find refuge in one of the stores in an abandoned mall. As soon as you were able to help Ellie inside and on to a mattress while Yukio lead Callus the Horse in, you started searching for anything to stop the bleeding for Ellie’s wound. You were able to find duct tape in one of the drawers and used one of your clean shirts to cover Ellie’s wound while using the duct tape to hold it, buying you some time to search for a medical kit.

You told Yukio to stay and watch over Ellie and told Callus to watch over the two while you’re gone. You closed the garage gate to the store and locked it before you started your search for supplies in the mall.

Just when you started to lose hope, you spotted a military helicopter that crashed as you entered the center of the mall. As you made a cautious effort to get into the helicopter, you came out victorious with medical supplies needed to save Ellie.

On your way back to the store Ellie, Yukio, and Callus resides in, you run into some more survivors from the college that attacked you. Using your wits, you lured some infected towards the group to take each other out before taking care of the ones who survive.

When you got to the store, you notice how there’s more survivors, on of them trying to break open the lock you put on the garage gate. You took care of them, but before you could open the garage, more survivors came.

Being pissed off about this, you initiate a shoot out with them. The gunshots attracted some infected, so not only do you have to deal with the survivors, but with the infected as well.

While all this was happening, Yukio became concerned for your well being. Out of instinct to help, she tried to open the garage door with her good arm, but couldn’t for it was locked by you on the other side. So, here she was pacing back and forth wondering if you survived or not as the gunshots slowly ceased.

There were only silent as she waited to hear anything from the other side. Just when she’s about to assumed the worst, she faintly hear you threatening out loud to not surprise you or else you’ll kill them just like you did with their friends.

The moment you unlock and open the garage door, Yukio immediately hugs you. You’re shocked at first before you quickly return the hug before making your way towards Ellie. You’ve stitched a wound before, not as bad as Ellie’s, but you sure know what you are doing.

As you finished stitching up Ellie, you told Yukio what happened and that the three (four if you like to add Callus the Horse) need to move as soon a possible.

Once done, you made a makeshift sled for Ellie to lay on, help Yukio get on Callus before joining her, then made your way to find a hideout to survive winter.

You were able to find a neighborhood in a Lakeside Resort and seek refugee in one of the houses. You started a routine for yourself: go out, search for supplies or hunt for food, return with said supplies/food, redress Yukio’s and Ellie’s bandages, sleep, and wake up to start said routine over again.

It’s a routine you stuck with for weeks; and throughout the time Ellie remains unconscious, you and Yukio snuggle against her to keep her and each other warm throughout the cold night.

For weeks, all you focused on was keeping the four of you alive. You rarely talked to Yukio, the only time you do is during the nights before you fall asleep. To say the least, Yukio feels like you’re drifting away again, just like before.

One day, you were able to catch a rabbit and a deer... well, you injured a deer before you tracked it down as it was slowly dying. You found the deer collapsed near a barn next to an old coal mine.

As you approach the deer, you heard footsteps that weren’t your own and immediately draw your bow and arrow towards the sound. You order those who were hiding to come out.

Two men come out, both showing their hands to show they are unarmed and said they just want to talk. You cut to the chase and asked what they want. One of them introduced himself as David and his friend, James.

He mentions how they’re with a large group with women and children who needs food. You told them how you’re also have a group who needs to be fed as well.

David offers to trade any supplies in exchanges for some of the meat. You asked if they have any medicine and will give the whole deer if they bring antibiotics. David said that they do and offered you to follow them.

You shot that offer down, saying that he stays and that James go get the medicine. He must return with the medicine alone or else you’ll kill him.

With that decided, James left to get the medicine while you and David wait for him to return. Being the paranoid person you are, you ordered David to give you his rifle, which he complied. He suggests you wait in shelter away from the cold. You agreed and told him to bring the deer.

David tried to get to know you, but you refused to give him any information about you. Before long, the two of you were ambushed by infected and David revealed he has another gun on him to kill the clicker that was about to attack you. He apologize for that before the two of you fought off the infected.

The two of you were able to fend off the infected, David making a comment about how the two of you made a great team while you told him it was just luck; but he says that there’s no such thing as luck and that he believes everything happens for a reason.

He then tells you about how a few weeks back he sent a group of men to search for food in a nearby town... only a few of them came back saying how the men were slaughtered by a trio of teenagers; but the craziest thing is that only one of the teenagers took on the ones that went after them.

You noticed how this story is similar to what happened to you a few weeks back. You immediately aim the rifle at David, who remains calm and told you it’s not your fault, that you’re just kids. He then order James to lower his gun, which caused you to point the rifle at James.

James did not want to let you go considering how you kill (in self defense!) his people. David again ordered him to lower the gun and give you the medicine. James mentions how the others won’t be happy and David said he’ll worried about it. You picked up the antibiotic and before you left, David says you won’t survive that long, but that he can protect you. You disagreed and quickly made your way to Callus.

You made it back to the house you reside in, and brought Callus inside the the garage before making your way to the basement. Yukio’s glad to see that you made it back safely and gave you the news that Ellie’s still alive. You gave her the news that your were able to get little food, but was able to get some antibiotics for her and Ellie.

Yukio was glad to hear that, but wonders where you got them from. You told her it doesn’t matter right now as you prepare a dose for her before injecting it to her shoulder. To say the least, Yukio’s shoulder was able to heal to the point to where she’s able to move it with slight pain.

You then did the same for Ellie. You gently moved her hand from her stomach and moved her shirt up just enough to reveal the stitches on her stomach. Ellie flinched as you inject the antibiotics to the wound, which you apologize and said it over as you lowered her shirt and cover her with a comforter.

Both you and Yukio snuggle against Ellie, and as much as Yukio wants to question where you got the medicine, you were tired from today’s event.

The following morning, you and Yukio woke up to voice outside. You immediately got up and check outside to see a few of David’s men out in the street. You cursed, saying that you’ve been tracked before telling Yukio that you’re going to lead them away.

Yukio wanted to argue with you, but you said that’s there’s not much time. You told her to stay with Ellie to protect her and that you promise to come back.

You took Callus and rode into the neighborhood hoping to get their attention. However, you were taken by surprise when one of the men snuck and grabbed a hold of you. You were able to kick him off before making your escape, catching the men attention and leading them away from the house Yukio and Ellie were in.

Yukio could hear the sounds of gunfire and you shouting at them to come after you. She so badly wanted to go out there and start shooting back, but can’t for it will draw attention towards her and Ellie, something that you are trying to get away from them.

You weren’t able to get that far as they shot Callus, killing him as you to fell down the hill. There’s no time to mourn for him as you quickly made your way towards the cabin.

While taking out men along the way, you heard how David wanted you alive, but the others want revenge for what you did back at the university and mall. You made it to an inn and just as you were about to leave, David showed up behind you and start choking you, forcing you to fall unconscious.

You woke up sometime later, locked up in a cell. You then heard the sound of chopping and looked outside your cell to see James butchering something. You then noticed him slide off a severed arm off the table and onto the floor next to other arms.

You’re shocked, almost disgusted about the fact that this man is cutting up another human being. He turned around when he noticed a sound from you before scoffing at you as he leaves the room. You then tried to forcefully open the gate despite it be chained and locked.

David then showed up into the room, causing you to back away from the gate. He gave you some food, promised that it was just deer meat when you asked if there was human meat along side.

You ate it as David talked, mentioning about the number of men you and your friends killed. You told him that they didn’t give you much of a choice while he respond if you think they have a choice.

He then started comparing his group with yours: how both of you kill to survive, how the both of you have to take care of your own by any means necessary.

You don’t like how he’s comparing your group with his, so you change the subject by asking if he’s going to cut you into little pieces. He told you that he rather not and ask for your name once more, which you refused to give.

He then told you how he’s been honest with you all this time, and how it’s your turn to be honest as well if he’s going to convince the others that you can turn around. He goes on about how you were someone with a heart, that you’re loyal, that you were... special.

You broke his finger the moment he put his hand on the bar before trying to grab his keys. You failed and only gotten yourself hurt as David rants about you being stupid, that you’re making it difficult to keep you alive, and how is he going to explain to the others about his broken finger.

You then told him your your name, so that he can tell the others how (Y/N) is the one who broken his finger. Having enough with you, he then asked how you referred to them about cutting you into little pieces and that he’ll see you in the morning.

It was difficult to get any sleep that night. You can’t believe that you’re going to be killed and eaten by a bunch of cannibals, or the fact that you broke your promise to Yukio about returning later that day.

Yukio was pacing, worried about how you have yet to return before being surprised by Ellie suddenly woke up. Ellie tried to get up, calling for both you and Yukio, who is trying to calm her down. Yukio tells her to take it easy as she told her what is going on, how you’ve been leading the survivors that followed you away from them; but you have yet to come back.

Despite telling her not to, Ellie went outside, followed by Yukio, in search for you. Both were worried for your safety as Ellie calls out for you before Yukio could stop her. The two ran into some of David’s men that were about to leave before they made their escape as they fire at the two.

Ellie and Yukio killed most of them out of anger before capturing two of them to interrogate to know where you’re at. To say the least, it wasn’t pretty as the two (Ellie and Yukio) took their anger out on them to ‘soften’ them up before asking for a location. Once they got the location of where you are taken, both Ellie and Yukio killed the two men before heading out on foot to get you.

You were forceful woken up by David and grabbed you to set you on a table. You bit David’s hand in retaliation before they do so. While they both hold you down, you yelled out that you were infected before David could chop your arm off and told him that he’s now infected.

They didn’t believe you at first when you encourage them to look at your arm. David decided to play along as he strikes his machete inches from your head before rolling up you sleeve. When he did, both him and James were shocked at your bite mark as you mock David that “Everything happens for a reason”. While they were distracted, you grabbed the machete and slash at James before ducking behind table when David tried to shoot you.

You made your escape as James bled to death while David shoots at you. You found and grabbed your switchblade, a gift from your once alive friend gave you, along the way.

There was a blizzard once you got outside, perfect to use as an advantage as you make your way through the town. You heard from the men you avoided that not only were they out to kill you, but they have to evacuate women and children as well.

The town you were in was like walking through a maze without getting yourself killed by David’s men. You were able to enter an abandoned restaurant, but before you could leave through the front door, David found you and locked the exit before setting it on fire. The two of you fought, trying to kill each other before eventually knocking each other out.

Meanwhile, no blizzard is stopping Ellie and Yukio from getting to you. Both made it to the town you were in and fought their way though as they search for you. Along the way, they found your backpack with your belongings in one of the building amongst other clothes on shelves. They grew more determined to find you when they enter the next room to see human bodies hung up like pigs in a slaughter house.

You woke up to a building on fire. You were weak from all the beating and near slashes from David. You spotted his discarded machete under a booth not far from you. You slowly crawl your way to it before being kicked in the stomach by David before mocking to you that there’s no shame of giving up.

You still ignore him as you continue your way to the machete, who comments that it’s must not be your style to give up before kicking you in the stomach again onto you back. He then gets on top of you and starts chocking you. As he does, he tells you that you don’t know anything about him, how you don’t know what’s he capable of.

You started to panic, afraid of what he’s going to do to you, afraid to die. You reached for the machete, able to grab it before slicing David off of you. You then got on top of him and started hacking at his face.

You did this multiple times, not caring that you’re in a burning building. You just kept hacking again and again with righteous fury. You thought you hear your name before you were pulled away from David, voices telling you to stop.

You tried to struggle your way out of their grasp, telling who ever is holding you to “Let go” and not to touch you.

When Yukio and Ellie exited the building and saw another building on fire, they both assume that you were in it; and they were right as the two see you chopping a man’s face off the moment they entered the building. Ellie immediately ran to you and grabbed you from behind to pull you away before forcing you to look at her to know that you’re safe as Yukio kneel next to the two of you.

And that’s where the three of you reunited with each other: in a burning building, the two hugging you in order to comfort you. It was short since the three of you need to leave the burning building, to leave the town;and the three of you did.

You were never the same after that. You noticed, Ellie noticed, Yukio noticed, but you refused to acknowledge it at all.

You were no longer the person they met at the beginning of this journey: the cheerful, comic-loving person they know and love. Now you were someone who rarely speak, an empty shell of your former self, and it’s eating Yukio and Ellie apart.

Once Ellie was well enough to travel, they tried everything to not only cheer you up, but to get you to at least talk. Making jokes, telling you that they found another one of those comics, they were even able to find some batteries for your cassette player; but none of them got a reaction out of you.

The only time Ellie and Yukio hear your voice is when you wake up screaming from a nightmare at night, and it’s hurts them as they tried to calm you down. You don’t even cuddle up with the two for warmth anymore, preferring to sleep alone away from physical contact, not caring if you freeze to death.

Ellie learned the hard way that you no longer want physical contact anymore when she places a hand on your shoulder. This causes you to flinch as a quick flashback of David appears. You quickly shrugged her hand off of your shoulder as your breathing quickens. She is shocked at your reaction as you tried to calm yourself down; but before anything could be said, you immediately grabbed your bow & arrow and left saying that you’re going out to hunt.

You just can’t get the memories you have from the cannibals incident out of your head, the idea of what David could’ve done to you before you hacked his face with his own machete. You became more reckless, not caring what happens to you when you were endangered, and that scares the two girls you travel with.

*Unfortunately for you, Yukio didn’t learn the same lesson Ellie did. Yukio notices that you’re waking up colder and colder every day. She can see it in the way your hands shake.

*So, one night, after you fall asleep, she bundles you up in her arms. She’s missed holding you like this, to the point where tears well up in her eyes. She’s missed you.

*But, all good things must come to an end. The instant you wake up, you wrestle her away, and she’s just awake enough to see the look of utter betrayal in your eyes before they lose all emotion.

*You don’t move after that. At least before you were going out to hunt and gather, but now you’re frozen. It seems Yukio’s plan to warm you up had the opposite effect.

*“C’mon, don’t you have to pee or something?” Even Ellie tried to lighten the mood, but it’s no use. You’ve been through something worse than what life is already throwing at the three of you. You wouldn’t explain what happened before. You definitely won’t, now.

*Yukio breaks first. If you were even a smidgen less dissociated, you probably would’ve started crying, too, and comforting her.

*But you’re gone. Neither of the girls have seen anything like this. If you weren’t breathing, or blinking, they’d think you were dead.

*“I- I gotta go out for a little while,” Yukio announced one day. The food supply had been running low, but she’d stayed in hopes of you returning to yourself.

*Ellie sits with you.

*“You know she didn’t mean to hurt you, right?”

“...”

“I’m taking your silence as a yes.”

*“Do you plan to ever talk again? Or move? We’ll have to find a new safehouse eventually, y’know.”

*Being ignored by you hurts. Ellie hopes she’s never made you feel this way. She shut you out when you first met, she’d been instantly enchanted by you and that scared her to death.

*Now, you’re scaring her for different reasons. Very different reasons.

She still had emotions when she shut you out. They were rarely positive ones, but emotions none the less. You don’t show any emotions, just an blank state.

And for the first time in a long time, she cried. She cried as she apologized to you, for failing to protect you:

“I told you this would happen if you stayed with me! I told you I couldn’t protect you! I’M SORRY!”

Ellie dropped her tough persona and cried. She didn’t care she was showing weakness, she lost one of the people she fell in love with; and she didn’t ceased crying, at least until she felt arms wrapped around her

* “Ellie.”

* It was a soft, dry whisper, but there was no one else who could’ve said it.

* She sobbed harder, now with relief. She missed you so fucking much.

* “I- I love you,” Ellie finally admitted, stumbling over her tears. “I need you.”

* You just rubbed her back, and she eventually felt you begin to shake with tears, too.

* “I love you, too,” you told her.

* That’s when Yukio finally made her return.

Yukio stared as she sees you hugging Ellie as she cried. The first movement she sees from you in a long time is you hugging Ellie.

You looked over Ellie’s shoulder to see Yukio standing at the doorway.

“Yukio.” You called to her as you reach out one of your arms to her, silently asking her to join.

And she does, she holds both you and Ellie close to her as the three of you cried.

“I love you, Yukio. Both you and Ellie.”

“I love you too, (Y/N).”

* The three of you just held each other and cried for an unknown amount of time. It felt infinite and yet so short at the same time.

* After that, slowly but surely, things returned to normal. Well, normal under the circumstances.

* You haven’t told them about everything that happened yet, but you work with them to avoid triggers, and you’ve opened up about it bit by bit.

* It encouraged them to open up about their pasts, too, and the whole ordeal brought you all closer.

To be continued...

Author’s Note: Shout out to @negasonicteenageimagines for helping me out with the last two seasons as well as the previous two seasons! I’m not great when it comes to romance side of things, so I truly appreciate you helping me out with that.

[johnny-and-dora]

how sweet the taste of certainty

Finally, she doesn’t have to wonder if their love is doomed to be some quiet, fragile thing. It’s not some fickle flickering candle at all, but rather something as bright and as certain and as inevitable as the sunrise. Something beautiful and familiar that, in earnest, is only just beginning.

or, amy tells her parents the shining, golden reason why she can't marry teddy. (a missing scene of my royalty au)

read on ao3 / read the original  -

The morning after she asks Jake to marry her, Amy stops a couple steps short of the heavy dining room doors, heart in her mouth, feet suddenly and brutally rooted to the ground. The eloquent and respectful speech she spent all night planning has seemingly evaporated, leaving her less of a person and more a pile of nervous mush.

“Are you ready?” Rosa meets her gaze, her armour glinting in the summer morning sunshine.

“No.” Amy admits, smiling nervously, calculating the nearest escape route and how long she could survive in the forest based on her existing hunting and foraging skills. “Do you think this is a bad idea?”

Rosa considers it for a beat. “No. I think it’s crazy, and it might blow up in your face, but I think it’s a good thing. For everyone.”

She can’t help but feel reassured by her best friend’s trademark bluntness, smoothing down her dress and fixing her hair again almost compulsively. It’s just breakfast. A breakfast that may as well be taking place in the middle of a minefield, but still just breakfast. She can handle breakfast.

Amy takes a deep breath, nods at Rosa, and pushes the doors open.

She’s greeted by the tail-end of an idyllic Santiago family meal; her parents sit at the head of the table, looking stoic and serious as usual. Three of her brothers are also dotted around, Julian in the middle of shoving an entire croissant in his mouth as he waves at her. David is mercifully absent. Silver linings. She definitely doesn’t need the golden child around today.

“Amelia – good, we were starting to worry…” Her mom trails off, a weight behind her words that instantly sends an unpleasant lick of irritation down her spine. She clenches her fists, resisting the urge to tell her just how much she really needs to be worried about. Just how close she was to smuggling herself and Jake over the border last night and never looking back.

Amy knows this won’t work unless she’s calm, firm and collected – she needs this to go perfectly, the stakes for this particular conversation so far past the roof they’re practically up in the stratosphere (Jake’s words, not hers). So, instead of letting out all the latent anger kicking around in her chest, she takes a deep breath and smiles politely, the one usually reserved for dukes that condescendingly call her “sweetheart” and then drop their jaws when she can recite state law from memory.

“You guys said you wanted to see me?”

“Prince Theodore has been asking after you. He’s waiting at the West Wing gate.”

“Good. I need to talk to him.” Amy says, forcefully enough that her mother sharply raises an eyebrow, sucking all the air out of the room in the process. “I need to talk to you, too.”

Her mom and dad share a quick, loaded glance. Everyone falls quiet, Tony and Simon no longer squabbling over who gets the last bread roll, Julian letting a blob of jam fall on his shirt without noticing. All eyes are on her as Victor gestures for her to continue – ideally, she’d do this with as little of an audience as possible, but she confesses to Jake later that she couldn’t help but revel slightly in the drama of it all.

She’s Amy Santiago – she’s fluent in five languages, director of the royal art collection, ambassador for human rights and one of the best trade negotiators in the seven kingdoms. She is capable of anything. She can do this. She’d barely last a week in the forest anyway.

“I’m not going to marry him.”

“Amelia…” Her mother sighs disapprovingly – it drills into Amy’s soul, but she stands her ground, making peace with her portrait being one step further away from the mantel. Her father eyes her warily as if he was expecting this.

“No, I know. I know you think it’s what’s best for me. I know a marriage like that worked for you two, and I know that it would benefit the kingdom and that’s great. But I can’t marry someone I don’t love, and you can’t force me to.”

“Accepting his proposal may seem like a risk, but a one worth taking.” Her father says. “He’s good for you, Amy – his reputation, his influence, it could really help you build something. You two are perfectly matched.”

Amy chews her bottom lip, a nervous tic she just can’t shake, gathering her courage. “Maybe in a different situation, Teddy and I would have worked. I see what you see in him. But it’s more than just on principle. I physically can’t marry him.”

“Why not?”

“Because - “Amy says, voice shaking a little, but eyes alight, “-I’m engaged to someone else.”

And, well, there it is. Her whole life changed by a single sentence.

It has the intended effect, increased tenfold thanks to a truly magnificent spit take from Julian as he chokes on his orange juice. Her parents stare at her in stunned disbelief – a wide-eyed Tony pats Julian on the back as his coughing dissolves into laughter. Best of all though, Amy can see Rosa smiling wide and proud in the corner of her eye, and it’s all she needs to feel newly emboldened, heart thumping in a way that makes her feel powerful instead of helpless.

“My God, Amy. I thought I had it with the whole one-night-stand with the Prince of Arabia thing, but you officially just won most dramatic family announcement. Well played.” Julian laughs, uproarious and bright. She’s glad he’s here.

“I…don’t understand. You are…already engaged?” Her mother asks weakly.

“As of last night, yes.” Amy tries to remain as neutral and matter-of-fact as possible, but she can’t help softening at the fresh memory of Jake saying yes over and over again, punctuating each affirmation with a kiss as she laughed, buoyant and alive with unadulterated joy. It’s all still very surreal, especially considering she hasn’t slept since; but if it is all a dream, it’s one she never intends to wake up from.

“I don’t see a ring,” Julian says, a bright grin plastered on his face that Amy ever so slightly mirrors, unable to completely tamp down her happiness any longer. “Isn’t there supposed to be a ring?”

“There is, but he has it. I proposed to him.”

“Oh, of course you did.” Julian shakes his head in a perfect marriage of awe and amusement.

“How…what…who…” Tony stammers – having graciously passed the point of no return, Amy decides to throw all her caution and concern to the wind and dive headfirst into the unknown.

“His name is Jake Peralta and he is the absolute love of my life. I have never been surer about anything than I am about that fact.” She consciously pours every ounce of conviction she has into her words, and it tastes like honey on her tongue, fresh air in her lungs. “He’s a baker and he helps out in the kitchen with Charles and he is the kindest, most loyal, most wonderful person I have ever met.”

There are so many ways to describe him – completely unexpected, completely full of warmth and laughter and more love than she thought any human being was capable of containing. Loving Jake is endlessly surprising, but it’s also the easiest thing she’s ever done.

“I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d never approve of me being with someone who didn’t have ‘reputation’, but the truth is that Jake is good for me in a way that Teddy could never be. He is unconditionally supportive and thoughtful, and he sees me for me, not just as a status symbol or some idealised fairy-tale. I love him and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with him.”

She says her piece, affection flowing from her almost of its own accord. As she does, she’s flooded with memories – throwing grapes at each other at the picnic they shared in the wildflower meadows beyond the gates. Jake smuggling cupcakes to her to cheer her up on bad days. Him clumsily risking his life climbing through her bedroom window just to help her rehearse her big address at a formal dinner, planting a kiss on her forehead every time she got through a cue card.

Their walks around the castle grounds, laughing at stupid inside jokes. Playing cards in the kitchens with Charles, Terry and Rosa. Teaching him how to paint and sketching him in increasingly ridiculous poses. Having dinner with his mom. Stealing away moments behind the stables and on staircases. Most vividly, their countless private rendezvous in the forest, free of all façades and responsibilities and reputations to uphold.

Amy refuses to hide any of it anymore – he is, openly and unashamedly, the man she loves.

No-one speaks, for a little while; she lets her honesty sink in. Her mother is wearing a look of abject horror – her dad’s expression is stony and unreadable, and it startles her when he is the first one to break the silence, directly addressing Rosa standing guard by the door.

“Diaz. Is all of this true?” Rosa glances at Amy, who gives her an encouraging nod. She knows her father has always valued Rosa’s directness as much as Amy does.

“Yes, sir.” She pauses. “And for the record, I’ve known both of these people a long time, and this is the happiest I’ve seen either of them. It’s kind of sickening, actually.”

Her parents exchange glances, a silent conversation Amy isn’t privy too – she’s too busy feeling her heart swell with further affection, this time for her best friend. She and Jake owe so much to Rosa helping them out, relaying messages back and forth and covering for them. When this is all over, Amy’s definitely embroidering a thank you pillow for her to punch.

“I see. Will you please bring this Jake Peralta here for me?” His tone is even and calm, almost unnervingly so. Rosa nods, quickly disappearing. She knows exactly where Jake will be; in the kitchens, probably stress eating day-old pastry and getting a last-minute pep talk from Charles (which is guaranteed to be largely unhelpful and delivered through hysterical tears).

She’d warned him that they’d probably want to meet him; he’d expressed anxiety about it last night, but Amy had quickly reassured him that no-one else’s opinion mattered to her about this. They’re getting married, whether her parents approve or not.

Obviously, she wants them to like him. She’s dedicated a lot of time to making sure he knows he is loved and accepted, and she’s willing to work even harder to wax lyrical about how wonderful he is for the rest of their lives if she has to. For now, though, she just has to focus on not getting them both exiled.

Her dad calmly asks her brothers to leave the table – Julian mutters in protest as he exits, only stopping to brightly clap Amy on the shoulder and earnestly congratulate her with an enthusiastic high five.

“He sounds great, mimi. I can’t wait to meet him.” For once, her older brother is completely sincere, save perhaps for the suggestive wink he gives her, and it’s a touching gesture that eases some of the relentless anxiety building in her gut. Amy dreads to think how insufferable the pair will be when they do finally meet. She can’t wait either.

Part of her is absolutely fucking terrified to be left alone with her parents with her open defiance and violation of their wishes hanging so ominously in the air – Amy Santiago has never been a rule breaker. She’s always worn the stupid fancy dresses even when she’s dying for something more practical and let Gina give her more and more complicated and ridiculous hairstyles and politely mingled with the endless line of boring high-status bachelors as her parents watched on hopefully. She’s always played the role of the only princess to perfection.

But then she thinks of little six-year-old Amy demanding that she be taught the same combat training as her brothers and twelve-year-old Amy petitioning to allow female members into the Royal Guard and, well. They really should have seen this coming from a mile away.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long before Rosa strides back in, a clearly nervous Jake hurrying forward in her wake. For a moment, her original plan of whisking him away to start a simple life together swims into her head, a powerful urge to protect him surging over her.

But then their eyes meet, and he waves, a small nervous smile on his face. And then she notices, as it catches the sunlight streaming in through the window and glitters as if enchanted, the engagement ring hung proudly around his neck. And she just knows, as sure as the sun will rise, that they can handle anything.

“I understand that you are engaged to my Amy.”

“Yes, sir.” Jake rocks on his heels slightly, nervously fidgeting the way he always does when he’s anxious. “I’m very lucky to know her and I love her very much.” It’s not the most eloquent speech ever performed in this great hall, but it’s by far her favourite.

“How do I know you are good enough for my only daughter?”

“Oh, there’s no way I’m good enough for Amy. She’s the most incredible person I’ve ever met and the best thing that’s happened to me.” He steps closer to her, silently taking and squeezing her hand as he speaks. “But she still chose me, and I promise you that I will spend every moment of the rest of my life trying to be someone worthy of being loved by her.”

She wants to scream from the top of her lungs that he is completely and utterly good enough, and she wants to hurt anyone who has ever made him feel otherwise. Instead, she squeezes back, and mouths I love you while her parents exchange another hushed conversation.

“Well then - it appears there’s nothing we can do to stop you. Nor do I think we should try.” It could be a trick of the light, but she swears that she sees a glimmer of pride in her father’s eye. Her mom clears her throat, clearly still struggling to comprehend the situation.

“Mija, what we want most for you is for you to be happy. Does he make you happy?” She asks – Amy glances at the man beside her and finds her best friend, her fiancé, her favourite person. Easiest solve in the world.

“More than anything.”

“Then that settles that. You two have our blessing.” Her father says, as simply as if he was commenting on the weather. Amy blinks once, then again, her grip on Jake’s hand getting tighter.

“We…we do?”

“Yes, you do. We clearly have much to discuss, but I must first inform Prince Theodore that other arrangements need to be made.”

“I…wow. Thank you. Thank you, so much, I…” Her brain appears to be malfunctioning, so she does the only thing that feels right; she hugs her parents, whispering another strangled thank you, and then hastily pulls a stunned Jake out of the room, now squeezing his hand so tightly it’s probably cutting off all the circulation. If it does hurt, he doesn’t say anything – then again, in the moment neither of them seems able to speak.

She drags him into the nearest room; Holt’s classroom which, blessedly, is currently empty. Heart pounding, she finally meets Jakes gaze. He looks like he’s just found the end of a rainbow.

“Did they just…”

“Yeah. Yes. I think they did.”

“So, we’re…”

“Getting married. Yep. That is a thing that is officially happening.”

There’s a single moment before they’re both collapsing into shocked, near-hysterical laughter, an amalgamation of relief, disbelief, exhaustion and above all else, joy. Amy practically throws herself around him, performing some kind of strangled hybrid of laughing and crying as she buries herself into his shirt.

They stay like that for a while, completely wrapped up in each other. It could be seconds or minutes or maybe even hours – she doesn’t care. Time has ruled their life together for so long; now, it’s an insignificant enemy, no longer precious, unpredictable or finite. It’s bliss.

“Hey, listen. Rosa told me, uh, what you said. To your parents. About me being the love of your life and all that.” Jake says, suddenly adorably shy.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. She said it with a disgusted look on her face, but I think she’s secretly rooting for us.”

Amy hums in contentment, making a note to call her a secret sap and then hug her the next time she sees her. Jake clears his throat nervously, calling her attention back to him, all soft and warm honey gaze.

“You’re mine too, by the way.” He says sheepishly. “Just in case…I mean I hope you that know by now, but-“ She smothers his nervous ramblings with a firm kiss, finally. Finally, the abstract brush-strokes and subtle hues of the future they could have together come into sharp focus, vivid and prismatic.

Finally, she doesn’t have to wonder if their love is doomed to be some quiet, fragile thing. It’s not some fickle flickering candle at all, but rather something as bright and as certain and as inevitable as the sunrise. Something beautiful and familiar that, in earnest, is only just beginning.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, future wife.” He grins, kissing her again. She’s sure, now, as her lips meld to his that he is the person she was always meant to come home to, to find a home in.

Amy feels a wave of exhaustion overwhelm her; now that the adrenaline is wearing off, the unfortunate side-effects of not sleeping for almost twenty-four hours rapidly take hold. She barely suppresses a yawn, scrunching up her nose as Jake looks at her fondly.

“You wanna go back to bed? I happen to know an excellent nap partner.”

“Oh, great, me too. I’ll see if Hitchcock’s available.” She says, laughing when Jake pouts in offence, draping her arms around him, leaning up so that their noses are almost touching.

“It’s our first day together as an engaged couple. I want to do something special.”

“Ames, we have the rest of our lives to do something special.” He says, gazing down at her with so much undiluted affection that her resolve completely melts away. The rest of their lives. She really likes the sound of that.

“Okay, napping sounds pretty good right now too.”

“Good, because we have about five minutes until I collapse from twelve hours straight of nervous hysteria. Would you mind carrying me to your bedroom?”

She rolls her eyes and shoves him, but also offers him her hand. They soon collapse into Amy’s four-poster bed, quickly pulling the covers over their heads, wriggling around and fighting for space while they giggle like little kids. Amy sleepily leans into him when they’re all settled in, and she’s never felt safer than she does now, being lulled to sleep by the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“We’re getting married.” She whispers reverently, eyelids heavy – she feels his lips gently ghost against the top of her head in response, perhaps subconsciously as if he were made to do it. They drift off, and the last of her anxiety ebbs and flows away as if merely a bad memory.

It’s the best sleep either of them has had for months.

[hms-chill]

The Two Princes

Summary: An AU based on the podcast The Two Princes. When Prince Henry sets out to break the mysterious curse that's destroying his kingdom, he's ready to face whatever dastardly villain or vile monster stands in his way. What he isn't prepared for are the bewildering new emotions he feels when he meets the handsome Alex, a rival prince on a quest to save his own realm. Forced to team up, the two princes soon discover that the only thing more difficult than saving their kingdoms is following their hearts.

--

Chapter 1: Once Upon a Time

It's late at night in the Kingdom of the West when a shadow slips quietly down the castle's east corridor. It moves away from the royal vault with the silent confidence of someone prepared for just such a heist as this one, a parcel clutched under one arm. As it disappears around a corner, a dog starts to bark. Guards clamor. The shadow grips his prize closer and runs. His heart pounds, his breath comes in gasps, his chest heaving against the heavy book clutched to it. He's almost out, almost to the village that surrounds the castle. Once there, he can find an alleyway and find out what's really going on in the kingdom. Just a sprint through the courtyard and he's there.

He rounds the corner to the courtyard and is met with a host of guards, swords drawn. Behind them, the gate he'd opened earlier is slowly closing. He could still try to escape, but he knows it won't go well.

The book is ripped from his hands, a guard already taking it back to the locked vault where it belongs, keeping both it and the knowledge it contains safe from anyone who would misuse it. Or really, anyone who would dare glance at its pages. The thief is tied up and dragged to the throne room, shoved to his knees before the queen. His head hangs, and his shoulders slump forward in defeat.

"Well, villain, you led our knights on quite a chase," Queen Mary says. "Now, take off that cloak and uncover your face. A guard pulls off the hood, and the room gasps as Prince Henry blinks in the sudden light.

"Henry?"

"Hi, Gran." With that, Mary stands, grabs her grandson by the ear, and pulls him toward their personal chambers. She ignores his complaints until they’re alone, then slams the door and turns on him.

"Oh, you are in big trouble this time. How dare you embarrass me like that?”

“I’m sorry! I know the forbidden book is, well, forbidden, but I have so many questions about the forest, and no one will talk to me, but that book—“

“Maybe no one will talk to you because there’s nothing worth talking about, Henry.”

“It’s taking over our kingdom!”

“It’s not taking over anything.”

“There are trees and vines everywhere. You can’t cross the street without tripping over them! They’re killing our crops, and the animals we hunt for food have all left, and livestock don’t have anything to eat. Our kingdom is being squeezed to death, and no one is doing anything about it. From what I've been able to put together, this all started in the heart of the forest; if we go there—“

“No one is setting foot in that forest! Besides, even if this were a problem, it wouldn’t be your responsibility. You’re a child!”

"Stop that! Stop dismissing me; I'm almost eighteen." He's snapping at her now, and he knows that's not a good idea, but he can't help it.

"Henry! Such an ungrateful child. We have a wonderful life, with a beautiful castle and marvelous parties. Until recently, our people have been moderately happy with us. We have no reason to go looking for trouble.”

"Our kingdom is on the verge of collapse! We don't need to go looking for trouble; it's found us."

“Oh, Henry." She's got a hand on his shoulder, and for a second, Henry's reminded of his Mum. But Mum hasn't talked to him like this in years; not since they got word of his dad's death. "You have so much to learn about how to rule," his gran continues, "but the first rule is simple: ‘life can be perfect, as long as you don’t look too close.’”

“Gran, that sounds... criminally incompetent."

"Well, if you don't like that lesson, How's this one? You're grounded." She's taken her hand off his shoulder, and any memory of his Mum is gone. She turns on her heel and storms out of his room, pulling the door shut behind her, and Henry hears the lock click.

"Hey! You can't lock me in my room forever!"

"You're welcome to try to climb out your window and scale down the tower again, but I warn you, there are fresh crocodiles in the moat, and I've been much too busy to feed them. Kisses!" With that, Henry knows she's gone. He sinks to the floor with a sigh, his back pressed against the door as he buries his face in his arms. There's a wet nose pressed against his cheek, and he reaches over to rub David's ears.

"Hey, bud. Looks like we're grounded. Again." David whines, climbing into Henry's lap as Henry sighs, leaning his head back against the door. He is so, so tired of being treated like a child. He's tired of being talked down to and underestimated and ignored. And all of a sudden, he misses his dad. If his dad were here, then he and Henry's mum would do something. Even better, they would have stopped the forest before it ever became a problem. They would have fought it back together years ago, and they wouldn't have to worry about anything. Gran wouldn't be driving him and everyone else up the wall, and the kingdom wouldn't be on the verge of collapse, and Henry wouldn't be alone.

Eventually, at David's gentle urging, Henry gets up from the floor and calls into bed. David hops in to join him, his head resting on Henry's side and rising and falling with Henry's breaths. Henry falls asleep eventually, but the forrest invades his dreams, twisting vines twirling through his subconscious as a rumbling invades his room. He wakes up with a start, but the rumbling continues, swirling around him until it coalesces into a whispering voice: “Come to me. Henry, come to me. Come… to the forest.”

The voice disappears in a clap of thunder, and the next thing Henry knows, he’s waking up on the floor, his gran and her entourage sweeping into the room.

"Rise and shine!" she announces, pulling him off the floor and scolding David as he barks. Henry groans.

"I had the weirdest dream last night. There was this voice—"

"That's nice, now stop talking," Gran interrupts. She throws open the curtains, and light streams into the room. Henry rubs at his eyes as she announces, "I have the most wonderful surprise for you. I was thinking about what you said, and you’re right, it is time I stopped treating you like a child and started treating you like the great prince I know you can be.”

Henry scrambles to his feet, barely able to believe his ears. “Wait, for real? You mean that? So you’re going to let me go to the forest?”

“What? Of course not; I should have been more clear. You’re not stepping foot in that forest. No, I was thinking, since you’re turning eighteen, wouldn’t it be something if I threw you a great big, once-in-a-lifetime—“

"Party." All the excitement is gone in a heartbeat.

"—Wedding!"

"What?"

"I know! Genius. People love a royal wedding. They laugh, they cry, they eat too much cake..."

"I know what you're doing. I am not getting married just because you want a distraction."

"Well obviously, silly. You're getting married for love." She tries to rest a hand on his shoulder, but Henry shrugs it off the second it lands.

"But I'm not in love."

"Oh, dear, is that what you're worried about? Don’t you give it a second thought. I’ve taken care of everything.”

“Wait, what does that mean?” It sounds almost reasonable, and coming from his gran, he doesn’t trust it for a moment. There’s a knock on the door, and despite Henry’s protestations that he’s in his pajamas and in no way ready to face anyone, his Gran throws it wide, shushing him. Shaan, her chamberlain, comes in, and Henry relaxes a bit. Shaan has always been the most understanding of his grandmother’s staffers, so maybe he’ll be able to talk some sense into her.

“Have you finished the proclamation?” she asks, looking smug.

“Yes, your majesty. Would you like to hear it?”

“If you would be so good.”

He clears his throat, unrolling a scroll in front of his face. “To all the eligible young ladies of the kingdom, are you tired of being unmarried and unloved? Do you crave meaning in your otherwise meaningless existence? Then bring your dancing shoes, an itemized dowry, and a list of family connections to her majesty’s royal ball, where you can win the opportunity to marry His Royal Highness Prince Henry George Edward James Fox Moutchristen-Windsor—“

“What?!” Henry interrupts, and Shaan spares him an apologetic glance before going back to reading.

“--That’s right, at the conclusion of tonight’s ball, the prince will pluck one lucky lady from a life of obscurity and mediocrity by joining with her in holy matrimony. Draw bridge opens promptly at eight PM.”

Henry gawks at his grandmother and Shaan, but his grandmother just smiles. “Perfection. Send it out immediately.”

“Yes, your majesty.” Shaan turns to the door, sparing a last apologetic look toward Henry.

“Wait, no, you can’t—“ the door shuts, and Henry turns to his gran. “Call him back. Gran, call him back right now.”

“Don’t be silly. Shaan is a very busy man, and between you and me, I do not pay him enough for what I put him through. Now. Let’s figure out what you’re going to wear to the ball. I know this is a rather bold suggestion, but I’m thinking: ruffles.”

She holds up a disgustingly ruffled shirt, and Henry swats it away. “Gran, enough! No! I don’t care what scheme you’ve concocted or what kind of distraction you need, but I’m not tying the knot with a complete stranger just so you don’t have to face the reality of what’s happening to our kingdom! I refuse to be a part of this insanity any longer. Do you understand? This is me, putting my foot down. I’m not getting married, and I will go to the forest and break the curse, and there is nothing you or anyone else can do to stop me.”

She sighs, coming closer to rest a hand on his shoulder again. “Oh, Henry. I’m so sorry. I know how ridiculous I must seem to you, but you must believe me, I only want what’s best for you.”

With that, Henry feels all the fight drain out of him. His shoulders slump, and when he speaks, his voice is quieter than it has been all morning. “I know.”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect you, nothing. You have to believe that.” Her hand moves to cup his face, and Henry closes his eyes and lets himself believe she actually means it.

“I do. Of course I do.”

“Good. I knew you’d understand.” Her tone is suddenly cold again, and Henry has only a split second to process the shift before she calls, “guards!”

“Wait, what? What are you doing?” He demands, moving away and watching as armored guards fill his room.

“Escort Prince Henry to the royal ballroom and tie him to his throne.”

"What?"

“Come this way, your highness,” a guard tells him, grabbing his arm. Henry struggles, but just like last night, he’s no match for the guard.

“No! Hey! Get your hands off of me!”

“I’ll see you at the ball, sweetie,” his gran says, waving as he’s dragged out the door. David’s barking furiously, but another guard has him held back, so he’s powerless to help Henry.

“You can’t tie me up for the rest of the day! What if I have to go to the bathroom?”

“Just hold it, dear. Hold it. For love,” she coos, and the door shuts behind them. Henry gives up fighting, his mind going into overdrive. Maybe he can convince one of the guards to let him go. Philip, the captain of the guard, used to play with him when they were kids. But he sees Philip in the throne room and knows it’s useless. Philip won’t see anything wrong with of all of this. Maybe he can wriggle out of his ropes, or David will come chew him free. Maybe… but he already knows escape from here is hopeless. Once the ball starts, the room will be full enough that there’s a chance he can make his escape. And his gran can’t marry him off if he refuses to go through with the ceremony. He’ll have a chance then, but for now, he’s resigned to waiting.

He watches the clock tick, and at eight PM, the ballroom starts to fill with ladies from around the kingdom. Shaan, stationed behind him, announces them as they come in.

“The lady Verbena. The lady Beatrice. The lady Dorcus.”

From his other side, Henry’s Gran leans forward and says “do try to smile, love. No girl wants a sour puss for a husband.”

“Maybe I’d feel like smiling if these ropes weren’t cutting off my circulation,” he growls at her. She’d come in and secured them herself just before the party, and she’s stronger than she looks.

“The lady June,” Shaan announces, and Henry turns to look at her. He can see her take in the situation for a moment, then that calculating look drops away in favor of a big smile and wide eyes.

“OMG, your highness! It is so great to finally meet you. I am fangirling so hard right now! I am like…obsessed with you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Henry deadpans. She gives him what might be a sympathetic look before it disappears again behind a bubbly mask.

“Can I just say, I love your outfit? The whole pajamas-and-bondage thing is like…so brave.”

“Um, Lady June, why don’t you tell the prince all about that extremely interesting book you were reading yesterday?” His gran asks, her tone belying just a bit of annoyance. June looks at her with wide eyes.

“Book? What book?”

“The book, dear. The one we discussed,” his gran says, and based on her tone, Henry knows her eyes must be boring holes into June right now. June steadfastly maintains her facade of innocence.

“Oh, right! The book, wink wink. So the other day, I was totally reading this amazing book all about wagons—“

“Dragons.” At this point, Gran just sounds defeated.

“Right, dragons! I’m just like…so obsessed with dragons. I looove reading about them, and talking about them, and spending my life with a certain prince who also has a fondness for smelly, disgusting, fire breathing monsters.” She’s leaned in close to the throne now, and only Henry can hear when she murmurs an apology. Maybe, if he has to pick someone at the end of the night, he’ll pick her, and she’ll help him find a way to escape the wedding. He murmurs a thanks as his gran claps her hands.

“Well, you hear that, Henry? Lady June likes books and dragons! Two of your favorite things!” Gran exclaims, though she and Henry can both tell that the character June’s playing is anything but interested in either of those topics.

“Uh huh. What was the name of the book?”

“Oh, Henry, don’t badger the poor girl—“ his gran starts, but June is having none of it.

She pulls back, the fake smiley persona reinstated. “Trick question! Books don’t have titles.”

“Alright, Lady June, thanks for stopping by. Be sure to enjoy the rest of the party.”

“You didn’t really think that was going to work, did you?”

“Honestly, I thought the odds were 50/50. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Lady Marjorie just arrived, and I have to go say something devastating about her outfit. Don’t fall in love without me!” With that, she sails off into the crowd, leaving Henry to tug at the ropes still tying him to the throne.

“Ugh, this night is never going to end,” he groans aloud.

“Unfortunately not, your highness.” Shaan’s voice from behind him makes him jump, then blush.

“Sorry, Shaan. I didn’t realize you were still here.”

“It’s quite alright. I often forget I’m here myself. You know, you may find this hard to believe, but I was in a…similar situation when I was your age.”

“Oh, really? Did your grandmother tie you to a throne in your pajamas and parade you in front of every girl in the kingdom like a prize pig at a county fair?” He doesn’t mean to snap at Shaan, and he doesn’t deserve it, but Henry can’t fight it. It’s just all getting to be too much, and he’s not sure how long he can sit here before he starts screaming.

“I meant, I too was once expected to marry. And it brought great shame on my family when I refused.”

“You don’t need to lay on the guilt about me doing my duty; Gran’s got that covered, thanks.”

“On the contrary, your highness. While the decision not to marry was a difficult one, I have always stood by my choice, despite what it may have cost me over the years.”

Henry softens. When he looks over at Shaan, the older man is looking out over the crowd, but his usually stoic face is a bit sadder than usual. “Oh. Really? So, you never fell in love? With anyone?”

That gets a bit of a chuckle out of Shaan, though it’s still tinged with sadness. “Oh, goodness, yes. I fell in love many times.”

“Then why didn’t you get married?”

“Because the kingdom was not quite ready for such a marriage.”

“I… I don’t understand.”

“I think your royal highness does.”

“Uh, no, actually, I…I don’t. I mean, I don’t want to get married because I’m seventeen. I mean, whatever you want to get up to in your personal life is up to you; I’m not judging. I—you shouldn’t assume?”

“No, of course not, your highness. Forgive me, if I misspoke.” Any hint of emotion has been wiped off Shaan’s face, but Henry only gets a moment to miss it before Shaan asks, “shall I fetch your grandmother? We still have quite the assortment of eligible ladies waiting to—“

He’s interrupted by a commotion at the front of the room, and Henry strains to see over the mass of people.

“What was that?” The room shakes, and somewhere, he hears June scream as a thick green vine shoves its way through the main door. It bursts into smaller ones, growing more and more quickly as it encompasses the room. Henry can hear swords being drawn amidst the chaos, but he already knows deep down that they won’t do any good.

“The forest is invading! Everyone, take cover. The castle is under attack!” It’s Philip’s voice, and for all the ways he’s hurt him recently, Henry hopes he’s alright. The vines break through the floor, carrying broken pieces of mosaic tile to the ceiling as they curl round pillars and people alike. The guards rush forward to attack, screaming and hacking, but the vines grow to encompass their swords. Then something starts snaking up his leg, and Henry looks down in horror to see the bottom of the throne covered in twisting, snaking vines. He struggles against his restraints, but there’s nothing he can do but groan and tug.

“Somebody, help me!”

No one can hear him, not over the chaos. He pulls and pulls, but suddenly, there’s a sawing noise beside him. He turns to see Shaan carefully cutting at the ropes tying him to the chair, working with the same mechanical precision he applies to everything.

“Thank you,” Henry says, breathless. Shaan nods as Henry pulls himself free, massaging the sore places on his wrists where he’s been tugging against the ropes all night.

“Of course. Now here, take this.”

“What is this?”

“A map. It will take you straight to the Hollow in the heart of the forest, but you must leave immediately. Here. Take my sword—“

“No! I can’t just leave you all in the middle of a battle—“

“You must. The real battle, the battle that will decide the fate of everyone in this kingdom, can only be fought in the Hollow, and only you can fight it.”

“What do you mean?” Henry’s trying to stay calm, but he can hear the fear in his voice.

“There is a prophecy that your grandmother has kept hidden from you. If you want to break the curse, you must get to the Hollow, and once you are there, you must—“

“Look out for the chandelier!” Henry’s not sure who shouts, but suddenly Shaan is rushing forward, shoving Henry out of the way as a chandelier crashes down onto him.

“Shaan!” Henry screams, running to where his head and shoulders are just visible beneath the broken chandelier. “Shaan, can you hear me? Are you okay?”

Shaan’s eyes are unfocused, and he’s clearly struggling to hold his head up. Then his eyes lock onto Henry’s, and he gasps, “go. To the Hollow.”

He slumps down, his eyes closing, and Henry allows himself a single sob before he’s taking Shaan’s sword and running. He goes to his room, changing pajamas for a light armor and finding a sheath for the sword. David whines at his feet, and Henry rubs his ears for a moment before sprinting to the kitchen, where he fills a saddlebag with whatever food he can grab. Then he’s on horseback, galloping away from his home as vines continue to snake around it, though as he looks back over his shoulder, he sees them slowly retreating. He just spurs the horse on, riding as hard as he can for the darkness of the forest.

He urges his horse on, over a last hill and to the pathway through the forest. They’re almost inside when the horse rears on his hind legs, dumping Henry flat on his ass in front of the forest and galloping away with most of the food and supplies. Henry closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, clutching the strap of a satchel that holds the map and a day’s worth of food.

“Okay. So it’ll just take me a little longer to get to the Hollow. I’ve got two legs and a sword and this map; I can do this.” He’s just going to march into a cursed forest to do battle with an unknown evil that’s been terrorizing his kingdom for as long as anyone can remember. What could possibly go wrong?

He could swear he hears the forest whisper his name, the same voice that had invaded his dream the night before. He swallows down the fear before it overtakes him and draws Shaan’s sword.

“Alright, forest. You want me? Here I come."

On AO3

Notes:

When I was thinking about writing in June, I was like "what's the gayest thing I can think of?" and it was this. The whole thing was supposed to be out this month, but then I was protesting and busy, but here we are. -- Also, sometimes you text the group chat "Bi Shaan: thoughts?" and get a bunch of support, so there's my justification for queer Shaan who looks after Henry. The group chat said I could.

--

Want to support the Hannah-Makes-Art fund? You can tip me in ko-fi here!

[weepylucifer]

Let’s Go in the Garden - Ch. 11

David makes a mistake. Thomas makes an entrance. Peter deescalates.

The theatre was dark. The sun was fairly well set by now, and the streetlamps were flickering to life. The heat was easing up by increments, the air already less sweltering and humid than it had been all day. David popped round to the back entrance, as agreed upon, where Cora Watley let him in.

She looked wary. Also tired. She’d borne this secret all week... she’d borne her other secret inconceivably longer. David imagined it had exhausted her.

He nodded at her. “Ma’am.”

“You’re really... police?” she asked with no further preamble.

“I’m...” Well, this required some mental acrobatics, but technically David had never stopped working for the Folly, had he? “I’m a specialist with the...” What had Peter called it? “The Special Assessment Unit.”

Ms. Watley raised an eyebrow. “That’s... special.”

“That’s what Mamá used to say about me.” The joke... well, it didn’t quite fall flat, but she sort of winced. Perhaps in solidarity.

She gestured for him to head inside, so he did. The back door was a heavy steel monstrosity, and David almost got his fingers crushed as he pulled it shut. “Where is the object?”

“I’ve hid it in my dressing room,” Ms. Watley confessed. “Are you... sure you can handle this thing? Because someone’s been murdered over it and I don’t want to really... leave it with a normal person.”

“I’ve been handling objects like this one before your mother’s mother left the hill.” Well, perhaps that was a slight exaggeration. Fae have long lives. “What do you mean you left it in your dressing room?”

“It’s not been searched.” Cora gave him a pale smile. “Nobody bothers me overmuch.”

Glamour. David nodded. “Still, why did you not call anyone? I’m told the Folly’s relations to the demi-monde are rocky as ever, but surely not so rocky as to half-inch a murder weapon before even considering going to the police.”

Cora shook her head. “You lost me. The relations of what to what?”

They had reached the backstage and were proceeding to the actress’s dressing room. “The... demi-monde, people like you.” Was that not the term anymore?

The actress turned around to face David. “People like me?” In the dim light of the hallway, she suddenly looked very young. “There’s never been people like me. I never knew any... there’s always just been me.”

How lonely, David thought. How very lonely.

Cora’s hands shook as she pulled a ring of keys out of her pocket and unlocked her dressing room. “I’m the only weird thing I ever saw. Until that goddamned crystal ball that Deirdre brought.”

She let herself and David in, and dropped to her knees to rummage in the bottom drawer of her vanity. “She bought this thing at a flea market or garage sale or something...” Goblin market, David mentally inserted, “...but she said she felt weird about having it at home. Like... it was showing her weird things she didn’t want to see. So she brought it here, thinking maybe we could use it as a prop or something... but I started noticing how other people got... weird around it. Never me, though. So I talked to Deirdre, thought maybe I could get her to throw it out or give it away or we could smash it maybe, but she kept it in the props department... and then I found it next to her dead body.”

David couldn’t help his eyebrows shooting up. “You found the body?” He began patting down his pockets. Perhaps he’d thought to bring a notebook? He should probably write this down, like a proper policeman. Oh, or didn’t his new-fangled telephone have a recording device? He pulled it out.

“Yeah, I found it,” Cora said, still bent over her cluttered vanity. “Look, I knew someone was going to call the police. But the damned thing’s cursed or whatever. Was I gonna give it to just any police guy? They’d get got by the curse just like people here did.”

“There‘s special police for special cases,” David said.

“Well, how was I supposed to know?” Cora got up, in her hands a round object, wrapped in a silk shawl. “And heeeere we go.”

“Very good,” said a voice in David’s back, accompanied by a sound that rang awfully familiar from the war: the telltale click of a gun being cocked. “Hand it over, Cora, nice and careful.”

----

I was in the tech cave just finished feeding the interviews we had conducted during the afternoon into HOLMES when Nightingale swept in. It wasn’t quite a burst in, but not a normal entrance either: yes, a sweeping.

I was actually about to go home, but I clocked that something was off. Far as I knew he’d headed to the basement once we’d got back, and now he was here, and notably by himself. “Everything okay, sir?”

Nightingale clicked his tongue. “It’s David. He went out and left this... cryptic message and now he won’t answer his phone.”

He handed me a post-it with a scrawled-upon note. I read the cryptic message. “’Actress is a demi-fae’? Does he mean Ms. Watley?”

“I assume so.”

“He’s not... he didn’t go meet up with her or something, did he?” But a sinking feeling in my gut said he’d done precisely that.

Nightingale frowned down at his phone. “I’d know that if he’d answer any of my messages.”

And that... was worrisome. David had had a mobile phone for less than a week, but he was already startlingly adept with it, and he delighted in carrying it with him wherever he went. “Hey, maybe he’s just... out for a walk. Maybe he needs... time to himself.”

Nightingale now glared witheringly at his phone, probably so as not to glare witheringly at me. “Or maybe he put himself in danger.”

Just then, his phone beeped, alerting us to...

“What is that thing?” Nightingale asked.

I stepped up next to him and peered at his screen. “Oh, he sent you a voice recording. The app has a function that lets you record something and send it...”

“Oh, spare me,” Nightingale muttered, and looked at his phone in thinly-veiled disgust, so I took it from him and played the recording.

“Yeah, I found it,” we heard a female voice say. People often sounded different on the phone, but this was most definitely Ms. Watley. “Look, I knew someone was going to call the police. But the damned thing’s cursed or whatever. Was I gonna give it to just any police guy? They’d get got by the curse just like people here did.”

“Hrm,” Nightingale said.

I stood still, excitement mounting. If David had managed to get us a spoken confession...

“Would’ve thought most of the demi-monde at least knew of us by now,” I commented.

“There‘s special police for special cases,” David said.

“Well, how was I supposed to know?” Some rustling was heard. “And heeere we go.”

“Is she actually handing it over?” I asked. Nightingale shushed me.

Then we heard a clicking, and a male voice, empathically not David’s, said, “Very good. Hand it over, Cora, nice and careful.”

Here the recording ended abruptly, as if... well, as if something had prevented David from recording any further.

I looked at Nightingale. He’d gone pale, his jaw clenched, his eyes slightly widened. Other than that, he betrayed no emotion. He went... cold, rigid, all over.

“Shit,” I said.

“We must locate them.” Nightingale’s voice was calm, but only because he was expending considerable strength of will on making it so.

“Probably the theatre, right?” I suggested, but there really was no way to tell. If only I could track David’s phone. But we hadn’t exactly stuck a tracker on him, and why would we have?

“Is there a spell for tracking them?” I asked.

Nightingale shrugged. “Not that I know of.”

“Bev always knows where I’m at.” Later, I would ask myself what on earth I’d meant by saying that.

“Well, I’m not a river deity,” Nightingale snapped. “I can’t well scent my lover.”

Lover. That word, so casually, from Nightingale, somehow made me shiver. And was that what Bev was doing? Scenting me? “Technically, you’re... something, sir,” I argued.

Now Nightingale outright gave me the glare. “This is hardly the time.”

----

“Get behind me,” David murmured. He ignored how Cora hissed “What?” and cast his shield, only to remember... oh, right.

He couldn’t cast at all.

“What the fuck did you just try to do?” Cora hissed from over his left shoulder. This, David thought detachedly, was probably the first time she’d seen (an attempt at) Newtonian magic.

“I won’t repeat myself,” said the man with the hunting rifle, whom David vaguely recognized as Mr. Sheen, the theatre’s director. Behind him, a taller man - the janitor, right? - was looking on with a deeply conflicted expression. “Hand me that crystal ball, and no tricks, and we might just get out of this one with nobody getting hurt.”

“Howard, the damned thing’s cursed,” the actress said. “This isn’t hyperbole, I genuinely fucking mean this.”

Mr. Sheen waved his rifle. “Will you bloody hand it over already?”

It was good of Ms. Watley to warn her employer, David thought, but unfortunately useless. The signs were all there. Mr. Sheen was utterly enthralled by the enchantment permeating from the object. It was potent in a way that he had rarely witnessed, and only decades of experience prevented David from reaching for it himself. And it had apparently been in this building for a lengthy amount of time, several days at least. Being so exposed to the enchantment, a susceptible mind might be driven to lengths...

Ms. Watley took a deep breath in. Wisps of her glamour escaped from her, but David nudged her side. “He has a gun, do as he says.”

“But I can--”

“Your glamour doesn’t make you immune to bullets, you know.”

Slowly, extremely reluctantly, Cora handed the crystal ball over.

Mr. Sheen unwrapped it from the silk shawl that had covered it and, aglow with triumph, held it in his hands. “Finally someone sees sense here.” He turned towards David. “Now, who on earth are you?”

And David realized exactly what else it was the crystal ball did.

The enchantment enticing people to take it, to seize possession of it and own it, well, that was one thing. But it was not the object’s actual use.

He felt nothing as the director probed his thoughts (nothing but a sense of revulsion, of violation that was uniquely his own) but he certainly saw the man turn pale.

“What the hell...?” Mr. Sheen said. For a moment, he recoiled, startled, and David lunged.

It earned him the barrel of the rifle jabbed into his ribs.

“You better not try that again,” Mr. Sheen said. He gave the crystal ball an appreciative pat. “This little gizmo here alerts me to anything you’re thinking to do. Now, Derrick, if you’d please...”

The janitor stepped forward. In his hand, he was holding a roll of zip ties.

“One of you acts up, I’ll have to shoot the other,” Mr. Sheen proclaimed, and David couldn’t tell whether or not he was bluffing. Most civilians weren’t quite prepared to actually eliminate a person at close range. But on the other hand... that certain glow in Mr. Sheen’s face, the rigidity of his features, that frozen smile... he was deep in the throes of the enchantment, practically possessed. There was no telling what he would or wouldn’t do.

“Derrick, are you fucking nuts?” Cora demanded as the janitor pushed her into a chair and began tying her hands behind her back.

“I’m sorry,” Mr. Johnson whispered. “It’s just... he knows.”

Knows what? David wondered. But there would be time to find that out later. For now, he thought it best to not resist as his hands, too, were tied.

“Derrick, take their phones, will you?” Mr. Sheen commanded. David held his breath as his mobile phone was fished out of his pocket. Now they’d know he’d sent that recording off...

“Now what’s this?” Mr. Sheen asked, holding David’s phone aloft for everyone to see the screen. There were about half a dozen unanswered texts. “A gentleman caller?”

Thomas, David thought, and then tried his utmost to suppress the thought. But it was too late.

“Is this the same Thomas Nightingale who has been investigating this place? The same one I am seeing so prominently displayed in your memories?”

“I’m not saying anything,” David said.

Mr. Sheen shook his head. “An utterly futile effort.”

----

Suddenly there was a sound from Nightingale’s phone.

“Well, thank goodness,” he huffed, acting put-upon but poorly masking his actual pure relief as he took the phone back from my hand and glanced at the screen. The relief was short-lived.

“Sir?” I asked. “What’s the news?”

Wordlessly, he waved me closer so that I could read over his shoulder.

There were the unanswered texts that Nightingale had sent David’s way, in his usual flawless grammar and diction which has a way of looking weird in text message format. They ran,

David, this is extremely vexing. Where are you at?

You are utterly out of line. There is a very good reason why I prohibited you tampering with the investigation. Come home.

I am not mad at you, but we must address this along with everything else. Do not put yourself needlessly in danger. Do not take any unnecessary risks.

Answer your damned phone, Davey.

And below that, a picture that someone, empathically not David, had sent. It depicted David, back to back with Cora Watley, both zip-tied to chairs by their wrists and ankles. The background showed that this was clearly the stage that we’d only recently stood on during our encounter with the theatre ghost. While Ms. Watley looked enraged and scared in equal measure, David’s face showed, if anything, deep indignation at being so held. Someone else was barely visible in the very margin of the picture, little more than a hand and, unfortunately, the barrel of a rifle.

The text below said, “I’m sure we are all reasonable men here. The two of them will be set free upon your payment of a modest fee and a guarantee that I should be left undisturbed. Do not alert any further authorities. The consequences will be severe.”

Our mystery texter had included below the message proper the ‘modest fee’ they wished to be paid. (We would later find out that it covered the theatre’s various debts, plus a little extra.) It was a pretty high six figures.

“Shit,” I repeated. “This has become a hostage situation.”

Nightingale shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

“Sir?”

“A hostage? David “Gold Star” Mellenby, the scourge of the Wolfsstaffel, a hostage?”

“He... is wearing the cuffs still, sir.” I contained myself from asking what either of those epithets meant.

For a moment, Nightingale went very silent. Then he said, “Well, that is true,” but I got the distinct feeling that what he meant to express by that ran more towards “Fuuuuuuuck.”

“We’re heading over,” he said.

I nodded and grabbed my own phone. “I’ll call Belgravia for backup.”

Already in the process of sweeping back out, Nightingale paused. “You think we will have need of them?”

“It’s their murder case.”

“Quite frankly,” Nightingale said, “I don’t think the situation warrants extensive support. In fact, I’ll head in by myself.”

Woah, I thought, what? “Sir, there’s no way I’m not coming with you.”

This got me a steely, grey-eyed stare. “It’s one man, I’ll be quite able to handle myself.”

The expression on Nightingale’s face put fear into me. Not fear for him, or for myself, but for our very unlucky kidnapper. “Yeah?” I asked. “You will be?”

----

“This is insane,” David said. He strained against his ties a little, more for the look of it than anything else. Besides which, they felt uncomfortable around his wrists.

“Hush,” Mr. Sheen said.

They had been herded at gunpoint out onto the stage, and pushed down into two folding chairs that maybe served as props for the musical. Perhaps the actors just sat down here during reading rehearsals normally. David didn’t like it here. He felt put on the spot, and the, well, dramatics of having the hostages sit on the stage struck him as deeply overwrought and annoying.

“No, I mean it. This device you’re holding lets you sample my memories, no? So you realize this is going nowhere fast for you. You’ve seen what Thomas did in fall 1944 when we captured those two Abteilung Geheimwissenschaften officers and were civilly questioning them for intel and then one of them called me a Saujude and the other one grinned?” The memory was definitely at the forefront of David’s mind currently. “You’re seeing what Thomas did to another human being because he grinned? Mr. Sheen, you better let me out of here while you still can. I know my lover. Thomas will not pay a bloody ransom, Thomas will kill you.”

“Bluffing,” Mr. Sheen said calmly, but it was a projected calm. David could see the beads of sweat on the man’s brow. He reckoned that some part of Howard Sheen knew that he was in too deep and with no feasible way out, and that setting Thomas “The” Nightingale on his trail had been the dumbest decision he had made today or perhaps in his life, but the thrall of the object was stronger than reason. Besides which, the ‘modest fee’ (David wasn’t sure, if the idea was even being entertained, if the Folly budget would survive it) beckoned, promising an end to the theatre’s financial problems.

“I’ve also sampled your recent memories. Nobody’s coming to rescue you.”

David clenched his fists at his sides, and stayed silent. Oh, yeah... that.

“What the fuck is he doing,” Cora whispered. “Trying to blackmail a police officer?”

David nodded. “Said police officer happens also to be my boyfriend, so there is that.”

Is that the one with the walking cane? The one who made out with Roger? That’s nuts. That guy was radiating don’t fuck with me so hard I could feel it all the way across the hall.”

Briefly, David wondered who Roger was. Would’ve liked to see that. “That aptly describes Thomas.” These days, anyhow.

“What fucking is he? I tried getting him to leave this place alone and he just stared me down. I put on a show and everything. Most people just sort of do what I want them to when I do the... you know...”

“We call that a glamour,” David muttered distractedly. What was Thomas, these days? It was an interesting question. Of course, being impervious to glamour, especially a clumsily wielded one like Ms. Watley’s, could simply be chalked up to experience. Decades and decades of experience. But clearly nowadays there was more to Thomas. Why, for example, was he not aging? Did he not technically qualify as fae now, by virtue of that?

“I thought he might be... weird like me,” Cora contributed, as if on cue. “Because he resisted. No other people ever did that.”

“That’s a hypothesis we must certainly consider,” David agreed. Good gracious, if only he had his magic. He would have gotten rid of these plastic ties already. “But frankly, I don’t know. They have a medical professional trying to figure that one out.”

“You figured me out,” Cora said almost accusingly.

“It’s not so hard to unmask a demi-fae, if one knows what one’s doing.” Not just the ties, but also that rifle. And Misters Sheen and Johnson... well, suffice to say they wouldn’t be upright still. David was slow to anger. He considered himself a good-natured, mellow, even-tempered person. But he was beginning to grow peeved, and when that happened, there tended to be consequences, as evidenced by certain parts of the former Third Reich where grass would likely never grow again.

“Demi-what?”

David sighed. His mind was swirling with thoughts of Thomas, of his situation, of how on earth he was going to get out of this one. (Was there a way to get these ties gone without magic...? Unfortunately his pockets had been searched earlier, and even if he’d carried any useful little tools of escape artistry with him, which he hadn’t, those would have been gone by now.) And he wasn’t really all that confident that Thomas would come get him. Not after all that had happened between them.

But there was a man with a mind-reading device in the room with him, a man who might just shoot him if he deemed him useless, and answering Cora’s questions was at the very least a way to focus his thoughts elsewhere.

“Demi-fae,” he repeated. “That’s the scientific term for people like you. Or at the very least it was that when I was last active.”

“I didn’t know there was a scientific term,” Cora said. “Or more people like me. I’m a... changeling, that’s what I know. I’m weird and I can do some stuff. But I was always the only one I knew of. I just... kept my head down and tried to live like normal.”

David nodded. A pale, skinny young woman in drab, dark clothing who faded into the background - that was the look of a fae in hiding. Fae dress according to their chosen vocation, he remembered, and he thought of Oberon’s uniform jacket, Molly’s dress, Foxglove’s coat with its myriad paint splatters and so many pockets for pencils and paintbrushes - for a split-second, he even thought of Thomas’s suits. A theatre fae, he pondered, would likely be in costume at all times, with the most sparkling, fluctuating, dramatic personality. He looked at Cora and thought, how sad.

“Do you want to know what else there is?” he asked.

“Will you two stop whispering back there?” Mr. Sheen snapped. “I’ll have Derrick gag you, you know!”

The janitor, hanging around by the curtain, shifted uneasily.

Mr. Sheen resumed pacing, the crystal ball tucked under one arm. He had lots of room for it on the empty stage. Periodically he would pause, pull out David’s phone and glare at it.

“Thomas hen-peck-types,” David said helpfully. “Whatever reply he’s going to make, it’s going to take a while.”

He grinned, the cheekiest grin he could muster, and hoped it masked the thoughts he had. He’s not coming. No one’s coming for me. No one wants me.

----

We parked the Jag around the corner from the theatre. As we got out of the car, we were joined by what looked like half the murder team stuffed into two plain cars of about the same quality as my old Asbo. Apparently the call I’d placed well out of Nightingale’s earshot as I’d presumably gone to grab my gear warranted Stephanopoulos showing up herself.

“What are we looking at?” she asked, strolling over to us, all business.

Nightingale gave her an irritated look, like he was having to remember what on earth she was here for. “Ah, Miriam,” he said. “So you received... Peter’s call for backup.” The glare he shot me promised consequences later. I almost imperceptibly lifted my shoulders. I’d take the stern talking-to over whatever would have occurred otherwise.

Stephanopoulos scrutinized the dark building. “Looks calm for now.”

Nightingale nodded. “We’re dealing with one man, armed, two hostages, the suspect in possession of one, well...”

With respect to Stephanopoulos’ sensibilities, it seemed he didn’t want to say ‘magical object’ quite yet. “Of Falcon-contaminated hazardous material,” I improvised.

Stephanopoulos’ eyebrows rose. “Like a biohazard?”

“Something like that, I suppose,” Nightingale said.

“How come this is the first time I’m hearing of anything like this existing?” Stephanopoulos asked. Behind her, I could see Guleed peeking out of the car in curiosity, craning her head out of the window to hear.

Nightingale went as far as to click his tongue in impatience. “Perhaps something to be considered at a later date,” he said, neatly smothering that burgeoning argument. “For now, while the threat is imminent to non-Falcon personnel, I consider it low enough at present to handle it myself. I suggest your team guard the entrances while I head inside.”

“You want to head in by yourself,” Stephanopoulos said. “And do what? Do you intend to play for an exchange?”

“I do not intend to humour that man for anything.” Eyes narrowing, Nightingale also scrutinized the building. “I’m of a mind to go in there and set him ablaze, to be frank. Hell, if I had a clear line of sight at him, perhaps from a window, I could blow up his head from here.”

Stephanopoulos took a sudden, sharp breath. “What the hell, Thomas?”

I was very glad I’d decided to call her in.

Nightingale didn’t look at any of us. He gripped his staff so hard his knuckles were starkly white. “My... David’s in there.”

“And who’s David?” Stephanopoulos asked. Apparently she’d been left out of the loop regarding the last week. Her eyes strayed quickly to the car where Carey, the David she was probably thinking of, sat safe and sound next to Guleed. “Anyhow, I’m not having you go in there and irreparably harm our suspect.”

“I am not,” Nightingale said through clenched teeth, “going to stand here and do things by the book while someone’s got David at gunpoint.” He whirled around suddenly, face to face with Stephanopoulos. “God dammit, Miriam, what would you do if it was your wife in there?”

“I still wouldn’t blow heads up.” Now Stephanopoulos, too, was exposing teeth. “Also, what the fuck, Thomas?”

“Look, I am getting him out. I’m prepared to face whatever consequences later.”

Stephanopoulos grabbed him by the arm. “Even if your consequences turn out two dead hostages? Our kidnapper has murdered someone once before, and there is clearly a hunting rifle in that picture.”

Hunting rifle, hunting club, I pieced together. The director, then. At least one accomplice, seeing as pointing a rifle and taking a picture required more than two hands.

“And listen, if it were Pam in there? I wouldn’t rush into things and endanger her life.”

----

Most likely, David reflected, he was going to get shot here today.

He was going to get shot here today, and he didn’t feel the least bit... excited about it. What would he leave behind? A miserable little pile of notebooks, and no one who would mourn him, because no one wanted him in the first place. Thomas would go on with life as he had before David had woken from his long sleep. Peter would certainly not care overly much; they had barely gotten to know each other, and any sense of kinship between them had surely been a figment of David’s imagination. This was fine; this should have happened over seventy years ago.

But there was an innocent young lady here, a person whose life had only just begun, and she was also going to get shot here today unless someone did something. And that wasn’t right, and if David could prevent that somehow, he would.

But what were his options, really? He tried to fumble for the ties around his wrists, perhaps he could manage to loosen or undo them somehow. The unyielding plastic chafed at his skin, but he continued, hoping his efforts wouldn’t be noticed.

Magic was right out, unless he found a way to get the inhibitor cuffs off. The cuffs required Thomas’s word to open. They encircled his whole wrists. Having been forged by Thomas personally and imbued with Thomas’s magic, they would hold. Having also been forged in a hurry, they weren’t perfectly smooth. What with all his fidgeting at them for the past days, David was well familiar with every notch and ridge in the metal.

Perhaps, if he bent his wrist just right, he could get an edge of the metal to catch on the plastic of the zip-ties...

“What are you doing?” Cora hissed irritably. “Why are you squirming like that, do you need the bathroom?”

“No,” David whispered at her. “I’m trying something. Distract them, will you?”

He still wouldn’t have his magic. But he’d have both his hands free. There was a lot a man could do with both of his hands free, especially if said man had had experience on battlefields.

Cora glared at him. “Distract them how?”

“Well, you’re an actress, aren’t you? Make something up.”

“Make something...?” It must have been a wrong thing to say, judging by how mad she sounded. But she rolled her eyes and slumped in momentary defeat. “Ugh, I guess.”

“Howard?” Cora asked, leaning forward as far as her ties would allow, getting Mr. Sheen’s attention. “I know you’re not going through with this. You’re not killing your female lead a week before opening night. The understudy is a catastrophe and we both know it.”

This of all things got Mr. Sheen to pause. David shook his head to himself.

“Lindsay is a fine understudy. She knows her stuff.”

“She still keeps forgetting her lines.”

“Frankly, she brings a passion to the role that I often felt you... lacking, in rehearsal.”

“Passion?” Cora snarled and wrenched at the ties that bound her wrists to her own chair, back to back with David’s. “Bullshit! You really think you can kill me off and replace me with Lindsay Reilly because she has bigger tits than me?!”

As the theatre people argued, David stealthily flexed his fingers...

“Now, this simply won’t do,” Mr. Sheen said. “We’ve all wasted enough time here. Derrick, take another picture...”

----

Nightingale was still arguing with Stephanopoulos when his phone buzzed again.

It was a new picture, this time of the barrel of the rifle being pressed directly into the curls at David’s temple. If it weren’t so dramatic a situation, David’s facial expression, all disgruntled and annoyed at such dramatics, would have been deeply comedic.

“I’ve waited quite long enough,” said the voice in the recording that was sent along with the picture. “You know that Mr. Mellenby here is of the opinion that no one will come? He’s trying to mask it, but it’s at the forefront of his mind. He’s believing himself abandoned. Isn’t that sad? Anyway, I need a decision here, DCI Nightingale, and soon.”

Nightingale stood with his back to me. I was glad I couldn’t see his face. Suddenly, flame erupted from his closed fist, enveloping his phone in fire. The smell of burning plastic spread.

“Woah, sir,” I said.

Nightingale’s voice was low and quiet when he announced, “I’m going to light the fucker up.”

“Thomas,” Stephanopoulos said sharply, and I expected her to set him to rights, tell him he was being way out of line, but she added, in a kind of voice I’d never expected to hear out of her, “You’re scaring me.”

“Apologies, Miriam, but we cannot delay.” And, you know, Nightingale wasn’t wearing his combat boots this time - probably because he’d had no time to change into them - but he didn’t need to. He radiated the soldier so hard we all felt it.

“Sir,” I urged. “You know we can make a clean arrest of it. All we need to do is obtain the object that’s causing all of this. No one needs to be set on fire today.”

Nightingale half-turned and looked at me. It was horrible. I have already lost everything once, his eyes said, I might now lose everything again. That kind of look. The look of people who go dancing in the light of their blazing homes.

“Um,” I said. “Please?”

----

David was beginning to become seriously annoyed by Mr. Sheen’s, for lack of a better word, theatrics, plus the gun still pressed to his temple. It made thinking hard, getting up close and personal with the business end of a rifle like this. “Best take that away,” he suggested irritably. “You’re not going to shoot, and we both know it.”

“Oh, do we both know any such thing?” Mr. Sheen handed the rifle to the highly reluctant Derrick. That, in David’s book, was an improvement. Then Mr. Sheen took up the crystal ball again, gazing deep inside, probably meaning to intrude and scan David’s thoughts again.

David wasn’t going to make it easy for him. Out of spite, he thought hard of nazi corpses.

At first he thought it was that which made Mr. Sheen recoil and scrunch up his face in dismay, but then he turned to the janitor, back to the crystal ball in his hands, and then peered around the stage and asked, “What is... is someone else in this building with us?”

Mr. Johnson’s shoulders rose and fell. “I’ve locked up everywhere, there’s not... supposed to be anyone else here.”

“Then why is... what is this?” Mr. Sheen stared down at the crystal ball in confusion. “Whose... where do these thoughts come from? Are you two doing this in some way?” He pointed at the two hostages.

Truly, David hadn’t the faintest clue what was going on now. But any confusion was a good thing and was to be furthered. Perhaps his captor would slip up in some way... allowing him to take steps to escape or at least ensure Cora’s safety. “May I be of help, sir?”

“Why would--”

From somewhere behind the stage there was a sound, like something falling down, or a door falling shut. Mr. Sheen looked up, and suddenly there was fear in his eyes. “What the-- who is there?”

Derrick Johnson looked at him with a sliver of doubt on his face. “Um, something wrong?”

“Those images...” Mr. Sheen shook the crystal ball like a snowglobe, as if it would show different pictures then. “Whoever... whatever is making those images...” He looked around the empty stage, out at the empty auditorium, a slightly deranged look to him. “It shouldn’t be in the building with us. Derrick, hand me the... no... go search the backstage, will you?”

“Er...”

Another sound. Like footsteps? Footsteps on the creaking wood of the floor?

“I don’t know about this,” Mr. Johnson said. “Nah, you know what, fuck this.”

“Derrick...” Mr. Sheen said threateningly. “You want me to tell our friends from the police why this establishment is truly so chronically short of money...? Ah, of course you don’t. Now be a reasonable chap and go backstage.”

Johnson disappeared behind the curtain, rifle in his hands.

David, still with nary a clue what was happening, craned his neck to shoot a questioning glance at Cora. Are you doing whatever this is?

She shook her head. No.

Muffled and a ways off, they heard Mr. Johnson walk around, then, “Hello? Hello? Is someone... Oi!”

The curtain flew aside as Mr. Johnson was flung headfirst back onto the stage. David felt the impello-palma, so powerful it would punch through ten-inch sheet metal, and he knew that burst of magic. As familiar almost as his own.

Tears shot to his eyes, but they were of joy. He hadn’t believed it would happen...

Mr. Johnson went down hard and stayed down.

Then several things happened in quick succession.

With a gasp, Mr. Sheen ran forward, to help Mr. Johnson, David thought, but he disregarded his fallen accomplice and grabbed the rifle from him. As he scrambled back up to his feet, hands shaking as he attempted to cock the gun, Ms. Cora Watley suddenly flung herself against her ties, and unleashed the full force of her glamour.

Mr. Sheen stumbled, and even David reeled as he was overwhelmed; this was the stage, here were the actors, and the overhead lights sprang on and the fog machine whirred to life, and soon they were ankle-high in billowing mist, and an end of the curtain was lifted just ever-so-slightly by a delicate hand.

Up above their heads, the huge stage light rotated on its axis by itself, and the beam of a spotlight fingered across the auditorium, the stage, and came to rest on the new arrival. A grand entrance.

“Evening, all,” said Thomas.

“Yes!” Ms. Watley hissed in triumph. “Enter stage left! Love it!”

Thomas grinned - not in response to Ms. Watley, he was wearing the sort of grin that David usually knew exclusively from battlefields. The sort of grin that used to say, All you Jerries are about to die.

----

I entered the building and therefore the stage on Nightingale’s heels, but just this once, no one was paying attention to me.

I was right behind him when he sucker-punched the janitor, using his impello palma like brass knuckles, nevermind that the guy had a gun. He didn’t hesitate for a second, just flung the fellow out through the curtain. It was just on sight. Now, I’ve seen Nightingale attempt to rugby-tackle suspects before, in the heat of the moment and all. The pure, vicious force of that punch still blew me away. I took a second, I know not why, to actually tug at his sleeve, and he gave me one of these looks he sometimes gets that signifies he’s not fully here right now but trying very hard to be.

“Let’s proceed,” he said, rubbing some life back into his hand. So we proceeded, stage left.

What I now recognized as Ms. Watley’s glamour permeated the stage. The fog was swirling, the spotlights were bright upon us, and, brushing past the curtain, I felt the excitement and the trepidation again: an actor readying for the great entrance. But I was happy to cede the stage to Nightingale.

The director was stood blocking the hostages, and he’d picked up the rifle. Now he was holding it in shaky hands. “I’m warning you! Don’t come any further!”

Nightingale chuckled. It sent a dart of cold, primal fear down my spine. Of course he already had his shield up. Very courteously, it also covered me. “Oh, do try and shoot me, I beg of you.”

Even his voice was different.

Fuck, this was bad.

“How about this, then?” His movements almost erratic, Mr. Sheen spun around and pointed the rifle at David. David, for his part, only raised an eyebrow.

“You fucking moron,” someone said. With a start, I realized it was me.

Nightingale raised his hand. I could feel a forma coming, and I didn’t know what it might be, and I was afraid.

I gripped his wrist. Again, I don’t know what fucking compelled me, my arm just shot forward and grabbed his wrist.

“Sir.”

He gave me an indecipherable look again. His magic kept ticking away as he turned back towards the little tableau in front of him.

“Please don’t hurt anybody unduly,” he said.

“That’s a mighty lot of you to ask,” Mr. Sheen replied, mad triumph making its home in his face - prematurely, it would turn out.

“Mr. Sheen,” Nightingale said aloofly, and released his forma into the world, “I was not talking to you.”

At first, I’d thought the spell had done nothing.

Then I heard two tiny plinks of metal, like, well, like the clasps of two wristlets opening.

David got up, the zip-ties and inhibitor cuffs falling away. Before Mr. Sheen could even turn around again, David waved his hand and subdued him, all his extremities suddenly locking into place and sending him tumbling to the floor. Another wave, and a length of cord unspooled, came loose from one of the curtains and wound tightly around Mr. Sheen’s arms and legs.

David looked at me, a glint in his eye. “What do you say? ‘You’re nicked, chum’?”

Well, someone’s getting quite into thief-taking, I thought, and for a split-second I wondered what David’s future within the Folly and therefore the Met might entail. But still, as the great Blackboard Monitor Sir Samuel Vimes once said, it’s so embarrassing to hear civilians try to speak policeman, so I shook my head.

“No,” I said, “You don’t say ‘you’re nicked’. You say, Howard Sheen, you’re under arrest for the murder of Deirdre Maxwell and the abduction of Cora Watley and David Mellenby. You have the right to remain silent...”

The teachable moment didn’t last long, because by the time I got to ‘right to an attorney’, David was looking at Nightingale, who was in turn looking at David.

“I’m sorry for causing you such inconvenience,” David said quietly. He picked up the crystal ball, which had been discarded in all the confusion, and held it out to Nightingale. “Here. This should probably be stored in the Folly.”

Nightingale was across the stage in three long strides. His hands found David’s shoulders, his face, his hair, roving unsteadily, as if committing the shape of David to memory, as if searching for something, as if having to make sure David was really there.

“God, Davey,” he said, in a voice that was soft and wounded and seemed to belong to an entirely different person than the Nightingale I’d known for the past three years, “Don’t ever - ever - do that to me again.”

By chance, his hand brushed the crystal ball that David was still holding, and for a moment they both stood very still.

“Oh... Thomas,” David then said, shivering. “You... genuinely, still? After all I’ve done?”

“And you really believed I wouldn’t come? That nobody wanted you?” Abruptly, Nightingale pulled David closer and, abandoning all his usual restraint, stooped down to bury his face in David’s sweater, and then he just stood breathing for a minute. I felt like I was witnessing something secret and forbidden, something highly private happening, jarringly, in semi-public, something most definitely not intended for my eyes. So I went and checked if both our perps were secured, and then I untied Cora Watley, who gave me a grin.

“I don’t know what the fuck is going on,” she said, “But hell yeah, love wins.”

“It does at that, huh,” I said and helped her to her feet.

“I’m so sorry, Tommy,” David was saying, one hand cradling the crystal ball, the other one resting on the back of Nightingale’s neck. It might have been the first time I’d ever seen anyone touch Nightingale like this. “None of this was supposed to happen.”

I could feel something strange and magical happening between them, in the literal sense; I could feel things being poured into the receptacle between them, perhaps seventy years’ worth of things.

“I cannot lose you again, David,” Nightingale murmured, one hand resting on the crystal ball, the other one cupping David’s cheek as they leaned in for the kiss to end all kisses. “You’re my... you’re my sweetest thing.”

I must’ve been thinking something too, something to the tune of Well, what am I, chopped liver? (for NO reason, I assure you, I guarantee you) because suddenly I had two pairs of eyes on me. I saw as Nightingale and David exchanged a long and silent look.

“We... should probably put this thing down for now,” David said, his voice straining to feign lightness.

“Aha, yes,” Nightingale agreed. He still had his spare arm around David, and a bit of that rattled look about him that I suppose people have when their loved ones have just come out of being kidnapped. “Here, Peter, why don’t you hold on to it?”

I took the accursed object from them, tucked it under my arm, and then I left them to it, switched my phone back on and called Stephanopoulos, informing her that it was okay for her team to head in now.

----

I spotted the former abductees sitting out front later, having been dispensed a shock blanket each, David primly sipping his conciliatory cup of tea and chatting to Ms. Watley about what types of fae there were. I heard him offer to take her ‘round to some demi-monde pubs, if they still existed, which in all left her almost more grateful than saving her from the kidnapping. Disenfranchised fae, I thought, and wondered how many there might be out there. People with no connection to the demi-monde as such, people on their own wondering why the fuck they were so much weirder than everyone around them. I decided to bring that up with Beverley, who had a heart for stuff like that.

Not at all deterrent to the raised spirits was the presence of Nightingale, who hung about with David’s hand tucked into his and most reluctant to leave his side for anything, even when Stephanopoulos stepped up and demanded he head back with her for signing off on the arrest we’d made.

“No,” he said and it jolted me. Nightingale didn’t, I knew that, always love the Job, but he’d always unswervingly done it nonetheless.

Apparently it jolted Stephanopoulos too, because she said, “What?”

“No,” Nightingale repeated. “I’d rather be staying right here, if you don’t mind.”

“I get it, I do,” Stephanopoulos said. “But I sort of have to mind. Paperwork won’t do itself.”

“There will be time for that.” Nightingale picked up David’s hand in both his own and held it against his chest.

“Thomas...” Stephanopoulos shook her head and sighed. “Don’t make me dial Alexander.”

David had watched the exchange attentively. Now he gave Nightingale a light nudge. “Go do your duty, Tom. I’ll be fine here. And later on you can come by and slip under my shock blanket.”

Nightingale went as far as to lean against him again. “David, you’ve been abducted.”

“And? I’m about four weeks shy of a war zone, I didn’t overly mind a botched abduction.” David took another sip of his complimentary tea, looking truly unbothered. He then passed the cup to Nightingale. “Here. You seem to have some need of it.”

Nightingale did go then, but he also took the tea.

I saw them together again later, not actually sharing the shock blanket, but passing a cigarette back and forth. They were touching shoulders, supporting each other. I didn’t approach them. This was not a moment for me to take part in.

...Which was alright.