#massive monolithic of a time when it was believable to think oh maybe they missed my message or forgot about the conversation we had

[sigilmint]

(this isn't a call-out, just a personal post) I'm done trying to befriend anyone who has ever been part of the la cosplay scene lol. twice over I've seen people from that group be revealed to be racist, elitist assholes who are allergic to apologies. so when other people in that sphere treat people outside of it with cold indifference... idk it doesn't speak well! I'm sorry if I ever made anyone uncomfortable by extending the hand of friendship bc we had a lot of interests in common and used to be in pretty close proximity/attended the same events. I will not be extending that hand any longer.

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter Eight: Heat/Ice

Pairing: Captain “Sy” Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: Playing hooky leads to more delicious food (Sy cooks! Swoon!), some deep conversation, and new revelations about Shane’s past.

What? You’re behind? Don’t worry! CLICK ME to catch up before reading this chapter!

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings:  Language, mature themes, more food sluttiness, shameless nerd speak, unfettered and shameless sappiness.

Author’s Note: So, guys, I’m sorry. I really wanted to get this chapter to you Sunday. Life has just been a bit disheartening of late. Between being upset over some personal turmoil some friends are going through (two of my oldest friends are getting a divorce!) and coming home from work utterly exhausted on all possible levels, it’s been hard to write about lovey dovey things. As I said in my recent reblog of my masterlist, though, I’m working on some prologues, one for each character. I don’t plan on them being terribly long, but I want you guys to have some more back story.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

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Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

It was hard to feel guilty for calling out of work for the afternoon under false pretenses when she was curled up on the sectional in Sy’s “nerd lair” with his head in her lap as they watched John Wick on the massive TV he had down there.

“You mean to tell me we watched the entire Bourne franchise upstairs on that…that iPod Touch, by comparison, when we could have watched down here on this majestic monolith!? In what is essentially a theater!?” She’d asked immediately, derailing the grand tour of the museum of things she would soon find amazing.

“Hey, I haven’t been coming down here a whole lot since I hurt my knee. Stairs haven't exactly been easy or, ya know, possible. I had my gaming computer down here for weeks, too, couldn't do a damn thing about it, because I didn't trust a'one of my buddies or my neighbors to haul her up the stairs for me. Leia's a custom machine worth thousands a' dollars. If she's getting' broke, it's all gonna be on me."

"You named your gaming computer? Leia?" So many emotions were flooding her. Adoration, sympathy, lust, and just a sheer need to squeeze the bejeezus out of him.

"Yeah, it's a common thing. And…not to be that guy, but…you do know who Leia is, right?

"If by Leia, you mean Leia Organa, Princess of Alderaan, true daughter of Darth Vader, adopted by Bail Organa at birth, sister of Luke Skywalker, hero of the Rebellion against the Empire?"

"Hey, I thought you wanted to take things slow, sunshine." he pulled her close, flush with his body. "Then you go talkin' all sexy to me like that." he lingered at her cheek with light kisses.

"Well, you did the same with your baseball talk the other night." she moaned into the contact with relish.

"I can't help it if certain sports terms have made their way into everyday speech. Your…exposition there, about my boyhood crush was intentional."

"You had a crush on Leia?" he nodded, shyly. "I had a crush on Han! Heck with Cap and Widow, THERE'S our couple's costume for next Halloween!" she said, excitedly!

"Oh, I didn't know you were talking about costumes for public use." he said, a naughty smirk in his eye.

"Stop it, you. Finish your tour. I want that soup on the stove." she said, patting her tummy.

He showed her the various memorabilia he'd procured over the years. Posters from a few of her favorites, and a few others that she recognized but wasn't as excited about. Die Cast models of several famous film vessels and vehicles, and a "life size" LEGO R2-D2 which would have had her salivating even if she hadn't been hungry. Apparently it took him almost a month to assemble the droid, but he did it all by himself.

"Aww…I wish I could have helped." she lamented.

"Maybe I'll pick up the Death Star and we can do that one together."

She nodded excitedly, eyes wide, rubbing her hands together in front of her chin with greed.

"Okay, little mouse." he chuckled. "Let's fill that belly and start this movie."

They filled massive bowls with generous portions and took the crackers down stairs so they could start the marathon. If they wanted to get through all three films tonight, they'd best get started.

They were both fairly quick eaters out of habit given her often truncated lunch breaks and his typical ten minutes in the mess hall. Even savoring the delicious creamy, cheesy concoction, as she tried to do, it was hard to slow down on. It did give her something to focus on during the first, emotionally devastating part of the film though. Once she finished, she expressed a final  groan of delight and thanked Sy, kissing him on his cheek as she held the other. She felt the smile bloom across his face as she prolonged the contact.

They were about halfway through the movie, a big fight scene in a night club, when something dark and grim hit Shane in the chest. Watching Keanu Reeves pretend to beat up and kill all of these actors and stunt men, it occurred to her that the man with his head resting gently on her lap, long body taking up the rest of that side of the sectional, had fought and killed. The man letting her play her fingers through his hair and beard had shot and blown up people. He was told to do it. Ordered to do it. But even though he was doing it lawfully and by military order, as far as she knew, it was still his job…at least some of the time. She knew that was an oversimplification of the function of the armed forces, but…sometimes, it was an apt description.

She had never thought of Sy like that before. Someone other than the strong but gentle teddy bear that had come to be such a comforting presence in her life. She needed that, after all she'd been through…she tried not to think about the hurt of her last relationship. She hadn't discussed it with Sy. It was history. Ancient history. But she was, after all, a believer in the fact that those who knew nothing of the past were doomed to repeat it. She'd tell him…one day. Everything that Elliott had done to her…had put her through. But not tonight. Suddenly, she thought being on the arm of a soldier, someone who'd lived the kind of life that Captain Logan Syverson had lived, might make her feel more safe than she had in ages.

"You're awful quiet, sunshine." he said, cracking a beer open and handing it to her before doing the same for himself and sitting down with his thick arm around her.

"Just…trying to be respectful of the movie experience. You know." she smirked at him as the menu music to the second movie played.

"It ain't that. I know this is still new, what we're doin', but I've watched enough movies with ya over the last few weeks to know that you don't keep quiet for a full length feature." Shane worried the tab on her cold Miller Lite. She wasn't sure how to bring this forward. "Spill it, sweetheart. What's eatin' ya?"

"What…what do you think about when you're watching movies like this, Sy?"

"Guess, same as anybody. How awesome the fighting and driving is. Wondering when Keanu got to be a badass. And if there's really an underground society of assassins. Why, hon?"

"I, umm, I only wondered if it…it doesn't make you miss…your job?"

The smile he gave her was both bemused and amused. "Come 'ere." he prompted her to lean her head into him, and sat his beer down on the buffet behind the couch so he could better hold her. "Do we need to go over the function of a captain of the Army of These United States? Because as flattered as I am that you think so highly of me, I'm no John Wick, nor do I know anyone like John Wick. Or five guys that would make one John Wick. Ten guys. Maybe twenty."

"The fighting doesn't bring anything back?" she smoothed the creases in his shorts as she tried not to act like she was over thinking his past.

"That fightin’s…it's like dancing. It's choreographed, precise, and the outcome is predetermined. Real fights are the exact opposite. They're chaos, unpredictable, and the right guys don't always win. Trust me, I've seen a lot of them go south in a big way." they both let a moment of silence pass before Sy broke it. "What’re ya really askin’, Shane?"

She wanted to ask so many things. The questions seemed to clog the ventricles of her brain like leaves in a rain gutter. Bottlenecked traffic.

"I just…couldn't help but think…about things you must have had to do when…when you were active, and I just…if you need to talk about anything, I'm here." She imagined that taking someone's life, no matter how personal or impersonal the act itself seemed on the surface, would create some level of emotional scarring.

“Oh, sweetheart." he kissed the top of her head, making her feel as warm and cozy as the soup had…perhaps more so. "You are important to me for so many reasons. You've shown me how to smile again. Laugh. Real, genuine happiness. No sarcastic shit like I had to use on my men in my squad. But although I'd feel comfortable talkin' to ya 'bout near anything, there's a counselor on the base who's specifically trained to help guys like me. Who've seen what I've seen and been through…similar situations. He makes sure I don't feel like less of a man for what happened to me. You make me feel…like more than a man…something stronger than I thought possible."

She was straining hard to corral the tears within her waterline, but they broke free when he squeezed her tightly to him with both of his massive arms.

"So…that HEP I gave you is working?" she laughed, knowing full well that his home exercise program had no bearing on the strength he meant.

"Come on, Shane." he raised an eyebrow at her, challenging her to see herself the way he saw her. "Them handouts you give me don't mean a hill o' beans in this conversation and you know it. The way you hold yourself, speak to others. There is so much quiet strength in your kindness that comes right out of your beautiful little heart. Some days I'll see you working with kids, if I get in early, and I know they annoy you and freak you out, but you never let that show." He looked into her eyes, misty from emotion, and he wiped away the tears from her cheeks. "I'll never be able to explain it right, the way you inspire me to be a better and stronger man. And my heart just breaks to hear you put yourself down. And don't say you're just kidding, because I know you think you are, but behind every one of those jokes is a truth, at least as you see it." He'd seen her make to argue and knew her tactic before she had attempted it. "Give yourself some credit, Shane."

"I'm too busy blaming myself for the bad stuff to give myself credit for anything good." she sniffed. "You're the first guy I've…I've been involved with that's acted like I was worth anything more than a meal ticket. Someone who was only suitable for enough sex to make it an official relationship just so they could have a place to live, and do whatever quasi-job was a thing. First serious boyfriend was a freelance writer, but he never seemed to be writing. Then there was the guy with the internet start-up…but he could never tell me in a satisfactory way what the company actually did…so that was brief."

He seemed to know she was bracing for something big. Something difficult. He gave her silence and stroked her shoulder in encouragement to continue. She took one of her deepest ever breaths.

"Then came Elliott. Elliott Thomas. My last boyfriend. The worst of them all. Most useless and greatest offender. I ignored all of the signs, of course. He had a YouTube channel and an Instagram that he was trying to gain followers on and become a so-called "influencer." she rolled her eyes. "He had no life skills. He had a bit of an eye for photography and he could find humor in uncommon places, which he thought made him insta-famous and vlog-worthy."

"I hate him already." Sy growled.

"Well, maybe I shouldn't tell you the rest, then." he asked her to go on. "He always seemed to find these ways to cheat on me and lie to me that I couldn't quite prove, but I was just certain of. But I just…I didn't want to believe it. I wanted THAT one to work. Well. I came home one night after work, and he had another girl in our bedroom. I told him he had until the next day when I got home to leave. Things got a little physical, but I can hold my own." she said, proudly, "and I bolted with my purse. I stayed with Heather, our evening secretary, and we hashed it out, and got a little blitzed on moscato, and cried together."

"Wow."

"He was gone the next day. All I heard from my landlord was, 'you shouldn't be hearing from him anytime soon.' so I guess he had his cop buddies send him a message. He blocked me on all social media and I haven't heard a peep from him since. That was five years ago."

"What a scum bag." he stated, obviously.

"Yeah, I haven't been able to really think about a relationship since then…until…" she let the word hang there, knowing they both knew what the end of the sentence was. "Until I met you." Drifting unsaid in the ether of the unspoken.

"It's been a long time for me too. I mean…I haven't quite been a monk, but I haven't…I haven't cared for a girl since…actually, I've never felt this way about anyone."

"I didn't mean to unpack all of that tonight when we're only a third of the way through our marathon. I really wasn't even going to bring it up at all. It's just…been on my mind. Ya know. I once heard a very poignant parable about keeping your mouth shut if you're warm and happy. I was attempting to do that." she chuckled.

"Yeah, but we need to be able to open up to people in this life. Keeping a bottle stopped under pressure ain't no good for the bottle. Or what's inside."

"Such wisdom. You know just what to say to me." she grinned into him.

"Just seen what keeping yourself closed off can do to a person. And the people they love."

Love…there was that word in the air. Not officially said, but felt in all ways. They held each other close as the opening to the second movie played.

Up Next: Chapter Nine-Group Therapy

[deepseawritings]

Breaking Point

At first glance it was difficult to believe this was the famous Strelok, the stalker who disabled the Brain Scorcher and then went into Pripyat by himself to defy the Monolith. Degtaryev had been expecting a man though as nails, probably carrying an exosuit, not a skinny, mousy man who looked about to collapse in exhaustion. Degtyarev would lie if he said he hadn't been slightly disappointed.

Upon further reflection though, the man had been surviving on his own in this Monolith infested city for God knows how long. Yeah, he could totally believe that was the same man he'd heard so much about. And he even had the gall to come strolling into the military base, after driving them nuts with the signal they kept detecting, and paint the higher ups as total incompetents with just a couple of phrases. Degtyarev immediately liked him. He was itching to talk with him and give him back the content of the stashes he found. But Degtyarev had no idea of how to approach him without looking like a creep; because, let's face it, what kind of person collects pieces of another person's life? So he decided first to strike up a conversation with him regarding other things.

After a some of questions about the CNPP and the Monolith –he was curious, ok?– Degtyarev finally confessed finding the caches of Strelok's group. To say Strelok was surprised was an understatement.

"Wonder how you could find them..." Yeah, they had been well hidden, but Degtyarev was damn good at finding clues and hidden things. "There should have been some records left. Found any of them?"

The barely disguised hope in the stalker's voice caught him off guard. Degtyarev had supposed he would be grateful to have back the notes from his comrades, yet he never imagined Strelok was going to react like those messages were life's greatest treasure. Strelok looked like he was going to hug him, but in the end he settled for a heartfelt "Thank you", and a promise to not forget what Degtyarev had done.

#

The evacuation was a nightmare. Just after stepping out of the Laundromat, a horde of zombified stalkers was waiting for them. They kept coming, wave after wave, until Degtyarev almost thought he was in the Night of the living dead.

Then, when they were done with the zombies, it was the turn for the endless hordes of mutants coming for them. If this kept up they would run out of ammo before arriving to the evacuation point. It was Strelok who solved their problem when he started running in an effort to leave the mutants behind. No shame in running away when you were about to be overrun, it was a sound strategy. Although this panicked sprinting through the streets of Pripyat could hardly be called a strategic fall back. But dignity comes a distant second to survival.

Nevertheless, herding mutants against them wasn't the only trick at the disposal of the Zone. A massive psy emission hit them on their way to the evacuation point, though thankfully it wasn't a full blown blowout. Several soldiers stumbled like drunk at the sudden emission, and Rogovets went down babbling like a madman. Degtyarev helped him up and tried to calm him, yet he ended shaking the stunned man to bring him out of his trance. It worked, sort of. However Rogovets was in no fit state to continue right now, he could barely stand up. Kovalsky materialized by their side and ordered Degtyarev to press on to the evacuation point with Strelok and Tarasov. The rest would follow in a moment, once Rogovets could keep himself upright.

Once they arrived to the extraction point the chopper wasn't waiting for them as it should. The evacuation team had been surprised by a Monolith squad and now they couldn't land. This mission had been a shitstorm since setting foot on this godforsaken city and it looked like it wasn't going to change now. Degtyarev was sure he'd cleansed the Prometheus Theatre just yesterday, as well as their base on the River Port. Where the hell were these bastards coming from?

Kovalsky and the rest arrived just in time to help. Degtyarev had already taken out the preacher, but more and more Monolith fighters kept appearing at an alarming pace.

The small square was swept in chaos. Bullets flew from one side to the other while more snipers targeted them and the helicopter from the roof of the River Port. One of them landed a crippling shot on Sokolov and another one killed Valentyr. Wounded as he was, Sokolov died shortly after in the brutal firefight against the Monolithians. Kovalsky ordered them all to fall back to the centre of the square and let the chopper blast the snipers off the roof. Still, that did not get rid of the Monolith fighters already surrounding them. It was a brutal fight that had no end in sight, as the Monolithians seemed to have never ending reinforcements. No matter how many enemies Degtyarev killed, more would come. In comparison to the military and Monolith, Strelok was underequipped with his modified AK and the recently returned SIG. And yet he was killing as many Monolith fighters as the soldiers, if not more. He truly was a legend of the Zone.

When they reached a lull in their fighting and the helicopter finally landed, Strelok was one of the first to get in, but only because Tarasov dragged him inside. He looked awfully indignant at that and Degtyarev understood his outrage. Getting the stalker out from here alive was one of their priorities, true, but maybe that hadn't been the most elegant way to ensure he boarded the chopper in one piece.

The helicopter took to the air and Degtyarev watched as the buildings of Pripyat became smaller and smaller in the distance. They had done it! This was it, his mission was over. Degtyarev didn't know how he felt about that. On one hand, good riddance to Pripyat, with its mutants and crazed Monolithians. On the other hand, judging by the introspective silence that had taken over the chopper, he wasn't the only one having conflicting feelings about their departure.

#

The Scientific Institute for Research of the Chernobyl Anomalous Area –or you know, just the Institute– was a monstrously huge building in the heart of Kyiv. Very new and modern, especially when compared with the cheap apartment where Strelok now lived, and utterly alien to him after living in the Zone for so long.

The government had given him a job there. Officially, he was a consultant, an expert of the Zone here to share his knowledge. What a fancy name to say the labcoats would grill him with their questions in an effort to understand a place they had never seen in person. But they were paying him more than he expected, so it wasn't that bad. He even had small breaks every hour, like fancy office jobs did. And he spent every single of those breaks outside, smoking by the Institute's entrance. It was a habit he picked up recently, or so Strelok thought. He truly had no idea if he had ever smoked before, although given how he quickly turned it into an essential part of his days, he would say he'd at least been a casual smoker.

Observing Kyiv's busy life going on around him always put him a bit on edge. There were so many people, all of them blissfully unaware of what he'd seen. Of the horrors that lurked not so far away from here. He wanted to spare them that, and if it meant enduring hours of questions day after day, it was a small price to pay to save humanity from the expanding Zone.

"Hey man, I hadn't expected to find you here!"

Turning around to the source of the voice he found himself face to face with Major Degtyarev.

"I could say the same," he was pleasantly surprised to see the Major here. Up until now he hadn't realized how much he missed having anything or anyone remotely familiar around. Ever since coming back Strelok's life had been new and disconcerting. "Are you going to be the new military liaison?"

"Nah, I'm here for a medical exam," Degtyarev sighed dramatically. "They want to see if being exposed to all that weird shit left some permanent sequels."

"If it's any consolation, I also had to go through it." Strelok chuckled darkly. They still wanted to run more tests on him, but he had refused multiple times, and so they eventually gave up.

He took one last drag of the cigarette before throwing it to the ground and followed Degtyarev inside. A group of scientist dressed in their crisp, white coats where talking in one of the corners of the main hall, but it was otherwise empty.

"Nice," Degtyarev whistled in admiration. "Although everything's a bit too white and shiny for my taste."

One of the scientists, a short and plump woman, had left the group and was coming to the front door. She walked in a way that reminded Strelok of a boar about to charge.

"Eh, I suppose it's not bad." Strelok shrugged. He truly didn't give a damn about the building. "I heard the military was going to promote you."

"Mr. Konstantinovich?" The woman politely asked. Strelok moved slightly to the side, not wanting to block her way.

"Oh, that." Degtyarev also moved aside, following Strelok's lead. "Yeah, they want to make me Colonel. I'll accept it, of course, but they're mistaken if they think I'll take a desk job."

"Mr. Konstantinovich," the woman insisted. And still no answer.

"I think that might be you dude," Degtyarev said to him, then graced the woman with a respectful nod.

Strelok whipped around to check if there was somebody behind him, because that was surely a mistake. Then he grimaced when he remember that no, Degtyarev was right, it was him she was waiting for. Apparently his family's name was Konstantinovich, even if he could never remember it for more than five seconds.

"Sorry miss, I don't remember your name." He finally faced her with a sheepish expression.

"It's doctor Nina Yovenko," she corrected him with a glacial voice. "We're ready whenever you are, Mr. Konstantinovich."

"Right, sure." Fuck, he wasn't looking forward to explain his findings on the C-Consciousness project to the top researchers of the Institute. Again.

"Listen, we're both short on time right now," Degtyarev said as he checked his watch. "But I'll be free in about an hour and half. Catch you later, ok? I know a place not very far from here."

He was gone before Strelok had time to say yes, leaving him with the irritated scientist. She didn't say anything else, yet Strelok could almost feel the impatience radiating from her.

"After you, doctor Yovenko." He gestured at her to lead the way, hoping she would take it as a courteous gesture of deference. Truth was Strelok had no idea where he was supposed to go.

#

The bar was the textbook definition of a seedy dive. Cramped and not very clean, badly illuminated and, of course, it boasted an impressive collection of cheap booze on the shelves behind the counter. A dusty TV hung up on the wall, but it was tuned on some random news channel with the sound turned off. The barman was tinkering with an old radio, trying to repair it. This place was so reminiscent of The 100 Rads that Strelok felt like he was back in Rostok. It was only missing the stalkers drinking to forget their days. And some music instead of the incessant crackling of static.

"To Colonel Degtyarev," Strelok raised his beer up and the liquid sloshed wildly inside the bottle. "And all the paperwork and red tape that comes with his new position!"

Degtyarev laughed and raised his beer as well. "And to your newfound name, Mr. Konstantinovich."

"Oh no," he said after taking a generous swig of the beer. "I can tolerate it from the eggheads, but you calling me anything else but Strelok would feel wrong."

"I thought you would be happy to reclaim your identity."

It was a fair point, and also one with a difficult answer. How to explain that this identity didn't feel real, not like the name of Strelok felt real? Hell, he even felt more comfortable being Marked One than when they addressed him as Pavel Konstantinovich. Who was this guy? Not him, that was for sure.

"A name doesn't mean much to me anymore," Strelok downed the rest of his beer. "After the amnesia and everything I just stuck with Strelok because it's shorter than Marked One." That felt weird to acknowledge, so far only Doc had known that Marked One and Strelok were the same person.

Degtyarev admitted he preferred Strelok too, he said it suited him better than Marked One. They fell into a companionable silence while Degtyarev finished his beer.

"Have you remembered anything from your life before the Zone?"

"No." Strelok tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but his success was limited and Degtyarev was looking at him with something too similar to pity. "Nobody's told me anything either. Just that I have no family waiting for me."

He felt uncomfortable venting his frustrations like that. Deep down Strelok was afraid of complaining too much. He didn't want to sound ungrateful, after all it was thanks to the military he was where he was now. And Degtyarev might be friendly with him, but he worked for the government. As far as he knew, Degtyarev's loyalties lay largely with the USS.

"Shit, that's rough dude." Well, at least his sympathy felt genuine. That was enough for Strelok.

#

Meeting up with Degtyarev twice a week for a couple of beers became part of his routine.

Every morning Strelok would wake up after a handful of hours of restless sleep, take a quick shower and change into whatever clothes he found that weren't too rumpled, making a conscious effort to not grab the SEVA suit lying at the bottom of his wardrobe.

Taking the metro to the central district was a tedious journey, and the only thing fuelling him to carry on with another pointless day was the extra strong coffee he swallowed before leaving the apartment.

Once he arrived at the Institute he knew his days could only go two ways: he would either spend hours being questioned about the Zone and then ignored while the scientists talked over him; or he would be up for another battery of tests and a review of how the prescribed meds were working. And when he invariably told them the meds weren't doing shit to help with his memory, they would change his medication again in hopes of getting it right this time.

Afterwards Strelok usually went straight to home, or to the bar with Degtyarev and then back home. The metro ride from Kyiv's centre to downtown was long and mightily uncomfortable. So much people crammed in so little space; and the noise, oh God, the noise. Thousands of people going up and down, chatting, laughing, making noise with their phones... it was almost unbearable. Strelok was used to empty spaces and silence. Even the most populated parts of the Zone were almost empty when compared with Kyiv's metro at rush hours. The uneasiness always persisted until he got to his apartment and closed the door behind him, isolating himself from the world.

His evenings at home were a sad affair. He would eat some of the canned food he compulsively stored and call it a day. Or if Strelok felt like indulging himself he would have some kefir and bread with condensed milk. On a memorable occasion his neighbour had given him a tray of homemade potato salad and he'd wolfed it down in one go. Nonetheless, he tried to avoid Mrs. Kravchenko, who got one look at Strelok and decided to treat him like he was one of her sons. Now, don't get him wrong, she was very nice and affable, but it was so awkward to be mothered by a woman who was almost surely younger than him.

The nights were long and boring. Television was rubbish most of the time, but regular sleeping patterns were something Strelok never got right. Therefore, he spent his nights sprawled on the couch, watching reruns of old series and history documentals until he eventually fell asleep.

Almost four months had passed since he started working at the Institute and nothing had changed. All his days were carbon copies of the previous ones, and they had all blurred together in Strelok's mind. He looked at himself in the mirror as every morning, barely noticing the bags under his eyes anymore, and repeated to himself this was better than staying in the Zone. It had to be.

He was washing his face when he felt his muscles go rigid and his legs gave in. What the fuck was happening? The floor rushed up to him and pain bloomed brightly in his forehead. The last thing he noticed before fainting was the red stain of blood smeared over the sink's edge.

#

The file in front of him had been bothering him since he read it. And now, sitting in the bar while he waited for Strelok to arrive, Degtyarev wasn't so sure he did the right thing.

Look at him, recently promoted to Colonel and what was the first thing he did? He used his newfound influence to acquire a copy of Strelok's restricted file, that's what he did. Degtyarev might work for the government, but he thought Strelok deserved to know what his life had been like, secrecy be damned. He knew the ex-stalker's memories hadn't come back, and they probably never would, so reading about it was the second best option. Of course Degtyarev hadn't even tried to resist the temptation and read the file first.

Real name was Pavel Konstantinovich, as they already knew. His parents died in a car crash when he was nine. Strelok was sent to an orphanage and stayed in the system until he came of age, and then he joined the military. By all accounts he spent eighteen miserable months there since following orders was not his strong suit, or so it was suggested by his rather large disciplinary record. After his military stint he went to Karkhiv and lived there for five months, and then he moved to Donestk for a year. Afterwards he disappeared for another three months, until he was spotted crossing the border to Belarus under the name of Anton Chernov. And that was the end of the personal section. So Strelok had always been a paranoid and slippery bastard, good to know. Then there were the results of the psychological evaluations and medical tests he had since coming back. In Degtyarev's opinion, that part was even more depressing.

He had retrieved the file in the hopes it would motivate Strelok to find an old friend, or a way to reconnect with his old life and stop looking so dead inside. But after reading it he wasn't so sure it would work. The last thing he wanted was to exacerbate his current apathy towards the world. Should he give it to him, or should he keep quiet?

"I see you have begun without me."

Speaking of the devil, here he was. The ex-stalker sat in front of him and signalled the barman to bring him a beer. Even in the poor lightning of the bar, when he turned his head to the side, the fresh cut on his forehead was rather noticeable.

"Shit, what happened to you?"

"I felt like adding some symmetry," Strelok ran his fingers over the old scar on the other side of his head, but that one was barely visible under his hair.

"Did you get in a brawl with one of the scientists? Was it because they asked you to explain blowouts again?" Degtyarev's joke got a small chuckle out of Strelok, but it soon turned into a bitter grimace.

"If only. Epilepsy attack, hit the sink pretty hard on my way down to the floor."

The barman set the beer in the table and they drank in gloomy silence. Eventually Strelok noticed the manila envelope on the side of the table. He did not ask, but he kept looking at it like he was expecting it to burst open on its own. Making up his mind, Degtyarev pushed the envelope in front of him.

"I acquired a copy of your file, thought you might want to have a look."

The look on his face was a painful mix of amazement and surprise, and Degtyarev felt guilty for his earlier thoughts of hiding the file from him.

"Thank you." Strelok touched the envelope reverently. "Won't you get in trouble for that?"

"For this? I don't think so," Degtyarev waved his concerns away.

Appeased by that, Strelok tucked the envelope inside his jacket and relaxed for the first time since he arrived. "Good, good. So, how have you been? Wasn't your brother coming to visit you this week?"

"No. My brother in law," Degytarev was offended at the thought of having that man as his brother. Strelok didn't bother to hide his amusement at Degtyarev's unusual display of disdain. "The moron wanted money to settle a gambling debt."

"And what did you tell him?"

"I might have threatened to dump him in Chernobyl if he didn't solve this mess soon or if he hurt my sister in any way." Degtyarev admitted without regrets. Strelok laughed so hard he snorted beer.

They spent the rest of the evening getting drunk and coming up with scenarios in which to dump Degtyarev's brother in law if he didn't get his act together. Strelok offered to smuggle the moron into the Zone if Degtyarev ever decided to go with it, and he wasn't sure if he was joking or not. Never mind, it was good to know he could count with Strelok's help.

#

He hadn't showered in days. It wasn't that bad, he'd gone far longer without washing while in the Zone. Also, his apartment was starting to look like it had been hit by a hurricane, yet Strelok did not care at all.

He hadn't gone to work in a week and didn't care about that either. His days were spent going from the bed to the couch, eating his dwindling stores of canned food and avoiding answering the phone.

The beginning of Strelok's spiral downwards had been months ago, the day he had the first epilepsy attack. But that was only the start. Then he started losing time. He would be getting dressed and next thing he knew he was in the kitchen putting water to boil. Or he was going to the metro, and then he realised it was half an hour later and he was sitting on a bench in a park with no memories of getting there.

Of course, that was simply fascinating to the scientists, and Strelok had to endure more brain scans and blood tests and questioning, only to be told they had no idea why he was having those lapses. There was no reason for his epilepsy either. So he ended up with no explanation and yet more medication to take daily. Fucking great.

His medical situation also fucked him over in other ways. Strelok had been looking forward to guiding an expedition of the military into the Zone. He wasn't thrilled to be acting as a nanny, but hey, at least he was going to get some time back in the field. He was sick of being cooped up in the Institute. However, after the time lapses and the random epilepsy attacks, he was deemed unfit for the mission. No matter how much he argued, the decision was final. He wasn't going to see the Zone again anytime soon, except maybe in his nightmares.

As if that wasn't enough, weeks later the hallucinations started. One morning he arrived at the Institute, harried and stressed after days of barely sleeping, and saw a bloodsucker emerging from behind the receptionist's counter. Strelok may have reacted violently, throwing a nearby stapler to the ghostly figure and actually hitting an unlucky lab assistant, but in Strelok's opinion having the security guards tackle him to the ground was a bit of an over-reaction. Explaining why he had thrown the damned stapler turned out to be a mistake.

After that incident Strelok's position on the Institute changed from specialist consultant to glorified lab rat. They did not treat him badly, but he was so tired of being a curiosity to study. Apparently that was all he was good for. All his previous help served for nothing, they weren't remotely closer to understanding the Zone, much less to know how to neutralize it. His life since coming back had been just a massive waste of time.

When Strelok was in the Zone he'd thought he wanted to purge it from the world and spare its horrors to everyone else. Now that he was back in the Big Land he missed it more than he ever imagined. Life was funny like that.

The Zone had a certain allure, a simple honesty about its brutality. He missed it. He literally couldn't remember anything else about his life except being a stalker. The file Degtyarev brought him offered no consolation either. He had nothing and no one to tie him here, apparently Strelok had always been a loner.

On his worst moment Strelok had taken out his old Makarov from the bottom of his backpack and contemplated putting an end to it all. He left it on the coffee table for hours, looking at it and thinking about what it would be like to eat a bullet. But he couldn't do it. It felt too cowardly. No, he had a better idea, one that had been hounding him for weeks, no, months. It would require some planning, tough.

The ghostly snork crawling from beneath the table made him remember he hadn't taken his meds in days. It was fine, he wouldn't be taking his pills where he was going either.

#

Just arrived from his last mission the top brass swiftly informed Degtyarev that nobody had seen Strelok for weeks. They hoped Colonel Degtyarev would be able to persuade their wayward consultant to come back to the Institute. Particularly, he couldn't care less about making Strelok come back to the fold, but this total shutdown from Strelok's part worried him. Twenty six attempted calls, and Strelok hadn't bothered to answer any of them. He went on a mission for a few weeks and when he came back he was slapped in the face with yet more problems. Fuck, couldn't he catch a break? He just needed a day off, it wasn't that much to ask for.

However, there was no rest for Degtyarev. So here he was now, in front of one of downtown's typical highrise buildings. The entrance door was wide open and one of the neighbours was mopping the floor. Ignoring the old woman's disapproving glare Degtyarev went up to the fifth floor.

Now if he remembered correctly, Strelok's was the third door. He knocked. No answer. He knocked again, harder and for longer than before. Eventually Strelok showed up to open the door. He looked like he'd been sleeping just before Degtyarev arrived.

"Alexander," He seemed stunned to see him. "What are you doing here?"

"May I come in?" The ex-stalker didn't look worse than any other time, but Degtyarev wasn't appeased just with that.

"Yeah, sure." After an uncomfortably long silence Strelok finally agreed and led him inside, apologising for the mess.

For once that statement was spot on. In the ten months Strelok had been living here it had never been in such a state of disarray. A pile of clothes and blankets threatened to drown the couch, there was a chair on the floor, a mountain of empty cans surrounded a pile of papers on the table, and a sea of empty cigarette packs covered the coffee table. Surprisingly enough there was also a plate with pelmeni, looking freshly made and delicious.

"Didn't know you cooked," Degtyarev grabbed one of the dumplings. Oh yes. They tasted as good as they looked.

"Those are from Mrs. Kravchenko. My cooking is not that good." Strelok admitted, hovering awkwardly near the table. "So did you have a reason for coming, apart from eating my food?"

"What about being worried because you have secluded like an animal in its lair?" Degtyarev asked him, sitting on the couch. "Is that reason enough?"

A certain object on the coffee table caught his attention. Even half buried by trash as it was, he could recognize a Makarov at first glance. Fuck, this was not a good sign.

"Are you here on the Institute's behalf?" Strelok's suspicions were spot on, and also so very wrong.

"Hang the Institute, I'm here because my friend has apparently been missing for days!"

"Oh." Strelok's surprise was almost comical. He picked up the fallen chair and sat down. "I'm fine, really. I just needed some time off."

Degtyarev picked the Makarov with a scowl. "Really?"

Of course Strelok rushed to assure him this wasn't what he thought. Though his nervousness did not put Degtyarev at ease. He'd been planning to do something stupid, Degtyarev was sure. If it wasn't suicide, thank God, then what was he planning?

In a moment of inspiration Degtyarev realised the answer. The weapon, the heavy suit draped over the couch and half hidden under a blanket, the notes and papers scattered around, and even a map over the table; it all became clear.

"You insane idiot, you're going back." It wasn't even a question, no need to ask what was more than evident.

"Alexander, Sasha... You have to understand, I'm going crazy here. The only thing left for me is the Zone."

It was the plea of a desperate and broken man. The Zone was a dangerous place and sooner or later it would eventually succeed in killing you, no matter how careful you were. Degtyarev knew it, Strelok knew it, and all stalkers who survived their first mission out of the rookie camp knew it. And yet Degtyarev understood why Strelok felt like he did. The pull of the Zone was strong, calling you like a siren, always in the back of your mind.

Strelok raised his head and met his eyes. Everything in him spoke of stubborn determination. "I'm not changing my mind. You can try to stop me but–"

"Wasn't thinking to," Degtyarev sighed while leaning back on the couch. And even if he wanted to, he wasn't sure anyone could keep Strelok out of the Zone. Frayed memory or not he knew more about the secrets of the Zone than anyone else. "You know, they're sending me back to the Zone soon."

There was a pregnant pause where Strelok said nothing but looked questioningly at him, no doubt trying to work out why he was telling him that.

"What I mean," Degtyarev continued, "is that once I arrive to Cordon's outpost, they'll all be very busy greeting the newly arrived Colonel. Perhaps busy enough to leave the perimeter unguarded for a few minutes."

"I don't need help, I have my ways of getting in!" Strelok scoffed.

Just as Degtyarev thought he would, nonetheless he felt the need to point out something. "Once someone realizes you've escaped back to the Zone, they'll probably send someone after you."

"Only if they know where to search." Strelok said like it was no big deal.

He didn't seem worried at all, but the name of Strelok was well known in the Zone and tracking a PDA was child's play. However, he supposed Strelok knew what he was doing. After all it wouldn't be the first time someone was after him. Degtyarev wasn't sure what he would do if he was the one assigned to track Strelok down. But that was a worry for the future.

"In that case," Degtyarev got up from the couch, "I say we should get properly hammered, as a send-off."

The stalker smiled relieved and agreed with him. Degtyarev hoped they would see each other again one day.

#

The barbed fence was about twenty meters ahead. It wasn't what Strelok was looking for. Somewhere here, hidden under the tall grass and massive shrubs, there should be the entrance of a tunnel. That was his ticket to freedom.

He'd arrived here with the golden light of dawn, after a night of hitch-hiking rides to get away from Kyiv. It was that or robbing a vehicle, but he didn't know how to drive, so that would prove pointless. Neither of that mattered now. He was finally a few steps away from the Zone and he felt better than he'd felt in months.

The tunnel entrance was behind a curtain of hanging vines and plant's roots. The inside was damp and pitch black, so Strelok turned on the flashlight. You may never know what lay in the dark, waiting for an unsuspecting soul. He saw nothing out of the ordinary, but that didn't mean the way was clear. Strelok threw a bolt and the metallic sound echoed in the tunnel. He listened intently. Apart from the dripping of water nothing else could be heard. Good. It was rare to find mutants or anomalies this close to the border, but not unheard of.

The ground was slippery with mud and moss and the weak light of his flashlight barely breached the inky darkness that surrounded him. The passage got narrower until Strelok had to crawl on his hands and knees, sliding over jagged rocks where the wall had crumbled down. A distant spot of shining daylight acted like a beacon, and Strelok crawled as fast as he could towards it.

When he got out he lay down on a patch of grass and let the sun bathe him. Yes, this was exactly where he was supposed to be. Now it was time to put an end to Strelok's story.

#

A scant week later a Duty patrol came to Yanov bringing Strelok's broken PDA, saying they found it near a whirligig and the vaporised remains of an unlucky stalker. The news spread like wildfire, reaching even the military. The legendary stalker had finally been claimed by the Zone. May he rest in peace.

Coincidentally, that very same day an unknown loner arrived to Yanov Station searching for a technician to fix his PDA. It took Nitro most part of the day to fix it, the PDA had taken some serious damage and most of its pieces had to be replaced. The owner waited patiently at the station, though he preferred to keep to himself like most loners did. No one paid much attention to him, he was a pretty unremarkable traveller who left as soon as his PDA was repaired.

That same evening two stalkers, one with the military and one living in the Great Swamp, received the same message.

20:49 – Marked One, Loner.

I'm back! : )

Author’s note:  I got two possibilities for Strelok's real name from the wiki, and since I didn't know which one to choose I used both XD

[thepathsofdestiny]

Two of a Kind

~*~ On a trip to the amusement park, it turns out that Akira, Ryuji, Ann, and Shiho have a lot more in common than they thought. A follow up to Small Steps. Read it on AO3 here.  ~*~ “It’s not a date,” Ryuji had said, adamant, when they were first making plans. “It’s just four friends hanging out. Just, y’know… two dudes… and two girls… at the amusement park.” Akira had looked up at him, Ann’s invite half-typed on his phone. “So…” Akira blinked. “Think I should get dressed up?” “Dude,” Ryuji sighed. “Don’t make it weird…” ~*~

Tokyo Dome City truly lived up to its namesake. A massive, sprawling entertainment district in the heart of Tokyo, with the Tokyo Dome itself the jewel in its crown. And on a beautiful, cloudless day, Dome City amusement park sparkled like a jewel in the sun. Akira stood, gazing up at the city of blinding lights and metal spires rising up around him. Ryuji sidled up beside him, bumping an elbow against his. “Close your mouth, dude,” Ryuji grinned. “You look like a tourist.” “I am a tourist,” Akira shrugged. “I’ve only been in Tokyo a few months, remember?” “You live here; that’s different,” Ryuji said, looking up at the monolithic form of the Tokyo Dome dominating the horizon, silhouetted by the rise of a rollercoaster before it. “Still. Hell of a place, huh? Can you believe they don’t even charge admission here?” “That’s to get in the park, not to get on the rides,” Akira said. He jerked his head towards the Dome. “Besides, I bet all the real money’s in stadium tickets.” “You ever think of seeing a concert in there?” Ryuji asked. Akira shrugged. “Depends on who’s playing.” “How about a baseball game?” Akira smiled. “Ditto.” Ryuji grinned. It always came easier when Akira was around. “So, where’s Morgana?’ Ryuji asked. It was rare that Akira’s bag was missing from his shoulder. “I left him sleeping and sunbathing on my bed at Leblanc,” Akira replied. He caught Ryuji’s gaze, his glasses flashing in the light. “It’s just you and me.” There was something about Akira’s eyes- meek and unassuming one moment, piercing and calculating the next. Ryuji felt his cheeks go hot. He told himself it was just the sun. “Yep… just the two of us dudes… here at the amusement park… together...” Someone called out from behind them. Ann was waving from the gate, tugging Shiho along by the hand. “Oh, the girls are here!” Ryuji blurted out. “Maybe we can, y’know… pair up…” Akira laughed and shook his head. “Whatever you say…” The pair that approached them was as different as night and day- Shiho, limping, composed, quiet, cool; Ann leading the way, flaxen hair shining in the sunlight, loud, bright, and warm. Akira glanced knowingly at Ryuji, the other loud, boisterous blonde he knew. “Hey, you guys!” Ann squealed, practically bouncing on her heels. “You ready for this?” “I’m sorry we’re late…” Shiho said meekly. “I, um… I kind of have to take it slow…” “Hey, it’s no biggie,” Ryuji said. “Shiho, this is Akira Kurusu. Akira, Shiho Suzui.” “We’ve met,” Akira said, catching Shiho’s eyes.   “We did,” Shiho nodded. “When you and Ann helped me back up to the roof. ...Not really the best impression of me.” “Then let’s start over,” Akira said. He offered his hand. “Akira Kurusu.” “Charmed,” Shiho smiled- a slight, subtle thing. “Shiho Suzui.” “And I’m Ann Takamaki!” Ann chimed in. “We all know who you are,” Ryuji rolled his eyes, grinning. “Come on, guys, it’s no time to stand around! The roller coaster’s waitin’!” ~*~ Akira stared up at the roller coaster snaking its way across Dome City’s skyline. It was huge. It even had the audacity to go through the ring of the ferris wheel- and how, exactly, did that ferris wheel work without a central hub? That was either a marvel of engineering or an accident waiting to happen. Or both. It could be both. Ann casually leaned her elbow on Akira’s shoulder. He practically jumped out of his skin. “You, uh… You okay there, fearless leader?” Ann asked, blinking at him. “I have a, uh, thing. With heights.” “A thing.” Ann sounded dubious. “Don’t judge,” Shiho said gently. “Don’t you have a thing with bugs-” “Oh god, is there one on me?!” Ann shrieked. “Volume,” Akira grumbled. Shiho smiled in sympathy, rubbing a thumb across Ann’s knuckles. “Save your screamin’ for after you get on the ride,” Ryuji said, returning from the ticket booth. Ann turned to Ryuji and shrieked again. “Oh my god! Ryuji!” “What! What?!” “It’s you,” Ann said, dissolving into laughter. Akira joined her, unable to stop himself. Even Shiho had to cover her mouth so Ryuji wouldn’t see her smile. “Alright, alright, laugh it up,” Ryuji muttered, poking his thumbs through his belt loops. “I’m gettin’ a whole lot of attitude for someone who bought your tickets.” Akira blinked. “Um. I mean. I gave you that money.” “Yeah, well I stood in line, so…” “Thank you for this, by the way,” Shiho put in softly. “You didn’t have to buy our tickets, too.” Akira didn’t mention how or why he had so much money to spare, nor how he’d be getting an earful from Makoto for using the Phantom Thieves’ operational funds to spend a day at the amusement park. “Any time,” he said instead. “So, who’s up for that Thunder Dolphin?” Ryuji grinned, handing out everyone’s tickets. “I always thought that was a weird name for a rollercoaster,” Ann said. “I’m sure all the girls at school love the ‘Thunder Dolphin’,” Akira said, deadpan. He saw Shiho staring. “...You know, because it sounds like a-” “She gets it,” Ann snapped. “Wait, I don’t, actually,” Shiho murmured. “What are we talking about?” The four of them made their way up onto the boarding platform. Ryuji flashed a set of four passes to the attendant, who waved them through. They made their way to the front of the growing line, trying to ignore all the dirty looks. “I went ahead and got the skip passes,” Ryuji explained, grinning. “No lines for us!” “Is it too late for me to sit this one out?” Akira muttered, staring up at the metal arches of the rollercoaster. “What are you, scared?” Ryuji grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ll be right here.” “My hero,” Akira said, with just enough sincerity that it gave Ryuji pause. It was their turn to board. Their car conveniently held four people. Ryuji sat in front, and Akira reluctantly climbed in beside him. “Wait a sec,” Ryuji hissed. “Sit behind me. That way-” “Yeah, yeah…” Akira said, taking the seat behind Ryuji. Ann came up next, rolled her eyes, and joined Ryuji in front, while Shiho settled in beside Akira in the back. She looked at him. “Um… Are you actually going to be okay?” Shiho asked. “You don’t have to do this…” “I’ll be fine, thanks,” Akira forced a smile. “...Also, Ryuji already bought my ticket.” “You’re welcome!” Ryuji called from the seat ahead. “You can hold my hand,” Shiho said. “If you want.” Akira smiled. This time was more genuine. “I’ll be fine.” Shiho nodded. The safety bar lowered in front of them. The ride began with a hiss of steam. The track began to climb… ~*~ Akira stepped out onto the platform. Excitement buzzed in the air around him, but all he felt was mildly lightheaded. The crowd dispersed around them. Ryuji’s hand clapped into his back. “What. Did you think. Of that.” Ryuji asked, grinning from ear to ear. “Um.” Akira blinked. “I blacked out. I don’t remember a thing.” “Whoa. Seriously?” Ann asked, leaning over to look Akira in the eyes. He pushed his glasses further up along his nose. “I’m sorry, dude,” Ryuji said. “I shouldn’t have pushed ya.”

“It’s alright,” Akira shrugged. “Long as you guys are having fun.” “Hey,” Shiho called. “Come look at this.” Shiho had joined a throng of people who’d gathered around a booth on the way off the platform. A bank of monitors sat overhead, each one displaying a picture of a roller coaster car. “There must be cameras set in the track to take souvenir photos,” Shiho said. “And then you can buy the prints, right?” Ann asked. She pointed. “There we are, in car number one.” It was a color photograph of the four of them coming down the Thunder Dolphin’s steepest drop- Ryuji and Ann screaming their heads off in the front seat, Shiho implausibly poised but still delighted in the back, and Akira, his expression unreadable, his glasses seemingly opaque from catching the light at just the right angle. “Oh man,” Ryuji said, squinting up at the screen. He turned to Akira. “...That’s a great shot of you.” “Thanks, Ryuji.” “I kinda wanna buy the print.” “With my money, I bet.” “Excuse me,” Shiho said, meekly raising her hand like she was still in class. “Would anyone like to go again?” “Me, me!” Ann bounced on her heels. “I’m down,” Ryuji said. “I’ll pass,” Akira groaned. “Okay,” Shiho smiled. She started rummaging around in her purse. “Because if this is one of those kinds of roller coasters, there’s something I’ve always wanted to try…” ~*~ “You didn’t have to stay with me,” Akira said, waiting on a bench by the exit platform. “It didn’t feel right, leaving you alone,” Ryuji said. “You feeling okay?” Akira waved his hand, dismissing the thought. “Don’t worry about me. You go and have fun.” “Dude. You sound like my mom.” “That’s a compliment, coming from you. You love your mom.” Ryuji sighed wistfully. “Yeah… You know her birthday’s coming up?” “Oh, yeah? Thinking of getting her some chocolate?” “What? Dude. No. You give chocolate to girls.” “Oh, so your mom isn’t a-” “Shut up. You know what I mean.” “That’s a dumb rule. Everybody loves chocolate. It’s not just a Valentine’s Day thing. Look at Ann.” “Oh, dude, Ann’ll eat chocolate any day…” The roller coaster car arrived at the platform with a hiss of steam. Not long after, Ann was bounding towards the guys’ bench, clutching an envelope, while Shiho trailed behind, a sheepish smile on her face. Akira was taken aback by her smile. Because, really, how often had he seen it before? Every time he’d seen Shiho before today- and, granted, that wasn’t a lot- she’d seemed so burdened, so haunted. But here, she was smiling, like the moon on a cloudless night. And, god, there was a smile worth protecting. “Take. A look. At these!” Ann announced brightly, slapping the envelope down on the bench. Ryuji reached inside. He didn’t even get the photo all the way out of the sleeve before he started cracking up. “Did it come out okay?” Shiho wondered. “If I had known, I’d have brought a shogi board…” Akira took the envelope from Ryuji and slipped out the photo. It was their roller coaster car, with two other folks screaming their heads off as they came down the drop… and Ann and Shiho right up front, unfazed, playing a game of cards. Akira laughed, taking in the jarringly absurd scene. “Oh, man,” Akira grinned. “That’s going up on a wall.” “So,” Ryuji said, clapping a hand on Akira’s shoulder. “What’s next?” ~*~ To Akira’s chagrin, the teacups were next, and once they were inside, the booths weren’t the only things that were spinning. It seemed only fitting that they’d take a break from vertical motion sickness and sample it horizontally instead- truly, a well-rounded experience. After Ryuji’s bizarrely intense insistence that they switch partners, Ryuji was with Shiho in a neighboring teacup, while Akira shared one with Ann. He was pinned against her shoulder by centrifugal force, his glasses seemingly opaque in the light. First the Velvet Room, then the incident with Kamoshida, and now, it seems, even physics couldn’t resist pushing them together. Ann, for her part, seemed to take it in stride. “You okay, fearless leader?” She asked. “This may come as a surprise, but I’m not much of a ride person,” Akira said, Ann’s voluminous hair whipping in his face. “Aww! Why would you treat us to a trip here if you weren’t going to have fun?” “I’m having fun,” Akira protested. He pointed to himself. “This is my ‘having fun’ face.” “If you say so,” Ann shrugged. “Hey, is it just me, or is Ryuji acting kinda weird?” “I just figured he really likes roller coasters.” “No- well, yeah. But isn’t there something else, don’t you think?” “I don’t know,” Akira said, sheepish, rubbing the back of his head. “He’s been in a weird mood ever since we first planned this trip. For some reason, he really wants the guys paired up with the girls.” “What? Seriously?” Ann rolled her eyes. “Ugh, that is so him! He better not be trying anything funny with Shiho! I bet he’s talking about something weird right now!” ~*~ “...So, you’re not going back?” Ryuji was asking, their teacup spinning ‘round. Shiho shook her head. “I can walk now, but it’ll be awhile until I can even consider playing volleyball again. I don’t think Inaba even has a volleyball team.” “Well, if it did, then. You still wouldn’t join?” Shiho smiled, tinged with sadness. “No. I think my days as a student athlete are over.” “That’s a damn shame. You were great out there.” “Thanks.” “Are you gonna miss it?” Ryuji asked. “‘The grind’?” Shiho giggled. “Training every day, people shouting in the stands? I will, a little bit. But overall, it was a little too much for me. A little too loud, too overbearing. I’ll miss the team, though.” “They’ve got a new coach now, you know that? After… y’know. Mishima talks about you. He’s gunning for your old position.” Shiho smiled. “Yuki…” Ryuji blinked. “Whoa. You’re, uh… you’re that close to him, huh?” “I am now,” Shiho admitted. “But he’s, um… don’t tell him this, but, he’s, uh… not very good.” “Maybe not before,” Ryuji said. “But now, he’s really giving it his all. He said he’s doing it for you. Maybe you can come see him play sometime.” “Maybe I will,” Shiho smiled. “In the meantime, I think I’ll look somewhere outside of sports. Maybe in medicine. I could be a physical therapist.” “You ask me, that sounds way harder than joining the team,” Ryuji said. “What about you?” Shiho asked. “I dunno,” Ryuji sighed. “Shujin’s reinstated the track team. I could go back, but… eh. I don’t know. Honestly, I haven’t thought that far ahead.” “It’s okay,” Shiho said gently. “You still have time. Anything can happen.” ~*~ “Ugh,” Ryuji groaned, grinding the heel of his palm into his eyes as he walked, Akira beside him. “I messed up, dude.” “What? Why?” “Because all I could talk about was sports, and, like, school stuff!” Ryuji whined. “Girls don’t want to hear about that crap! I couldn’t think of anything, I dunno, romantic to say!” “Don’t you think you’re trying too hard?” Akira asked. “Don’t you think you’re, maybe, missing the forest for the trees?” “I literally don’t know what that means, dude.” Akira sighed. “It means-” “We’re back!” Ann announced, returning across the concourse with a plastic cup in one hand and a trailing Shiho in the other. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” Shiho said softly. “No worries,” Akira said. Ryuji jutted his chin towards the cup in Ann’s hand. “Ann, only you could leave to go to the bathroom and come back with a smoothie.” “It’s bubble tea,” Ann corrected. “And joke’s on you, because it’s sweet almond and it is delicious.” “Um,” Shiho spoke up. “Where should we go next…?” “About that,” Ryuji said, flipping open a brochure, “I had just the place in mind…” ~*~ Ann looked up at the entrance of the dimly lit tunnel, with a waterway filled with flower petals. She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t remember this ride. How long has this been here?” “Must be new,” Shiho said. “‘Tunnel of Love’,” Akira read aloud. He shot Ryuji a sardonic look. “So, about that whole ‘trying too hard’ thing…” “Dude, just get in line,” Ryuji groaned. ~*~ The tunnel was built to mimic a romantic boat ride across a moonlit lake- if the ‘lake’ were six inches of water in a concrete ditch, the ‘moonlight’ was strips of LEDs set into the walls, and the ‘boat’ was a painted wooden swan with a bench seat that rolled along on tracks just beneath the water rather than being carried by any current. Still, it was a little place of reprieve from the huge, thronging, chattering crowds, and it was the first ride today where Akira didn’t immediately feel sick. So that was a plus. Akira trailed a hand through the water, parting curls of flower petals with his fingers. This place was alright. Maybe he just wasn’t enough of an artist, or a romantic. He was sure Yusuke would love this place, though. Akira sat back in his seat and let out a contented sigh. “This is nice,” Shiho said, beside him. ~*~ Further down the tunnel, Ryuji was in his own boat, resting his chin in his hands. “Figures I’d be stuck with you,” Ryuji grumbled. “Yep. You’re never getting rid of me,” Ann grinned, sipping her bubble tea. She held out the cup. “Want some?” “Sure, whatever.” Ryuji pouted and took a sip. He blinked. “Huh. That is pretty sweet.” Ann gave him a strange, smoky look. She leaned in close, and whispered in Ryuji’s ear: “...That’s an indirect kiss.” “ARGH! Ann!” Ryuji exploded. “Don’t make it weird!!!” ~*~ “It’s nice to have some peace and quiet, don’t you think?” Akira asked. “It is,” Shiho said softly. “All the crowds and the noise were getting a little... “ “Overwhelming?” Akira offered. “Yeah.” “How are you feeling?” Akira asked. “Me?” Shiho giggled. “What about you? You’re the one who passed out on the rollercoaster. Even now, you look pale… like you might cry. Or throw up.” “That’s just my face,” Akira shrugged. “Seriously, though. Are you okay?” “Well… my legs are a little sore,” Shiho admitted, sighing. “This place is bigger than I thought it would be. We’ve been walking a lot. And being around so many people is kind of… draining.” “I know the feeling,” Akira said. ~*~ “Being around you is kind of exhausting, you know that?” Ann rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Ryuji, girls love to hear that.” “I’m just stating a fact,” Ryuji explained. “I meant it in, like, a good way.” “Uh-huh.” Ann blew a stray lock of hair out of her face. “You’re such an ass,” she teased. “Yeah, but I’m your ass,” Ryuji grinned. “Excuse me, my ass is perfectly toned. You, on the other hand-” “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” “I’m saying, someone’s falling behind in their training!” “Oh! That’s rich, coming from the girl who’d never been to a gym until I took her! Until I wrote up her damn training regimen! What- did you just want to get in shape so you could start making moves on Akira?” “Oh, like how you were chatting up Shiho? That’s my best friend!” “That’s my best friend! And- And you were flirting with him!” “You were flirting with her! Why are you getting so jealous, anyways?!” “I’m not!” “Yes, you are!” ”I’m not!” “Meathead!” “Ditz!” “Momma’s boy!” “Sweet-tooth!” “‘Sweet-tooth’? Is that really the best you can come up with, you… blonde-” “You’re blonde too!” “Oh, shut up, you- you- twink!” “TWINK?!?!” ~*~ “Please,” Shiho was in the middle of saying. “You’ve already paid for my ticket. You don’t have to worry about me, too.” Akira shrugged. “Isn’t that what friends do?” An otherworldly feeling overtook Akira’s senses. A shadow in armor moved behind his eyes. I sense a kindred spirit, came a woman’s voice from within him. Valkyrie, one of his Personae. There was something up ahead. He saw it, flickering in the darkness of the tunnel- a butterfly. A white butterfly, trailing whispers in its wake... Having fun, Inmate? You already have a source of Strength. Have you forgotten about us already? Or do you think there’s still enough room in your heart to take on another vow? Akira exhaled, and the ghostly voices receded back into their halfway place. “Friends…” Shiho sighed, beset by a sudden melancholy. “I have such wonderful friends. Ryuji can be surprisingly insightful when he tries. Just now, on the teacups, we got to talk about our careers…” “Huh,” Akira mused. “He had a pretty different take on that conversation…” “He has a good heart, though he’s a bit shortsighted,” Shiho said. “And as for Ann… well. Where do I even start with her?” “She sure is something,” Akira said. Shiho nodded. “Ann is… a treasure. When I thought I had nothing, I had Ann. When I thought I was nothing, I-” Shiho caught herself, and looked away. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but Akira swore he saw a flicker of yellow in her eyes. “You really care about her,” Akira said. “Don’t you?” Shiho smiled, but it was a troubled smile. “I do,” Shiho whispered. “And somehow, I know… I know you understand.” Akira nodded, silent. “You’re so easy to talk to,” Shiho said softly. “There’s something about you, Kurusu. Something in your eyes… Ann has beautiful eyes. They’re bright, and sunny, and warm. Ann saw me, even when I thought I was invisible… but you, Kurusu. You see right through me.” Shiho exhaled, staring ahead into the dark. “Please don’t say anything,” she said softly. “I’m not… I’m not ready.” Shiho turned and met Akira’s eyes- not bright and sky-blue, like Ann’s, but a secretive, stormy gray. Akira didn’t say anything. He only smiled. Nodded. And he understood. ~*~ Ryuji and Ann were waiting at the exit, arms tight across their chests, pointedly not looking at each other. “Hate you,” Ann murmured. “Bite me,” Ryuji shot back. Their argument in the tunnel had turned… undignified, to say the least. But the longer they stood there, waiting for Akira and Shiho to arrive, the harder it was for them to stay angry. It was one of the things Ryuji and Ann had in common; they were both quick to anger, and just as quick to cool. Ann sighed, dropping her arms to her sides. “We are… so stupid,” Ann laughed. Ryuji smiled, then laughed along with her. “Oh man. We’re idiots. I’m sorry.” “Yeah. Listen, I’m sorry I asked you if you also bleached your-” “Ugh, okay, don’t- don’t say it again.” Akira and Shiho’s boat pulled up to the platform and they disembarked, Shiho wincing as her feet hit the floor. They shared a wordless exchange, returning to their fair-haired counterparts. “What happened to you two?” Akira asked, noticing some scuffing on their clothes. “I might have punched him,” Ann admitted. “I might have literally, not figuratively, kicked her ass,” Ryuji said. “Please,” Ann scoffed. “It didn’t even hurt.” “Maybe it would’ve hurt if you were more perfectly toned,” Ryuji muttered. “You know what? I-” “You two are such good friends,” Shiho drawled. “Yeah,” Akira agreed. “Maybe they should date.” Ryuji and Ann stopped. They looked at each other. And then they burst out laughing. “Me? Date Ann? Are you serious?” Ryuji laughed in disbelief. “That’d be so weird!” Ann said, wiping a tear from her eyes. “Dating Ryuji would be like dating my brother or something.” “Besides, have you seen me?” Ryuji grinned. “Totally out of her league.” “What?!” Ann cried, indignant. “You’re out of my league!” “Yeah, okay. What sport are we playing, here?” “Ugh! I can’t believe I almost said something nice about you, you little-” “Guys. Guys!” Akira stepped forward, his palms out. Ryuji and Ann quit their bickering and looked at him. “First of all, volume, because we don’t have this park to ourselves,” Akira said, ever the voice of reason. “Second of all, if it makes you two feel better…” Akira smiled a trickster’s smile. “... I don’t think I’d date either of you.” “What?!” Ryuji and Ann cried out in unison. “Are you kidding? I’m a model! Look at me, I’m a perfect 10!” “Dude, take that back! I am one hundred percent dating material!” Akira ran, and Ryuji and Ann chased after him, shouting their protests and indignation. Shiho followed after them, laughing, a hand over her mouth so no one would see her smile. ~*~ The sun was setting, and the ambient warmth of the summer day was dying down to a cool evening. The sky was lit through in orange and gold, and the crowd at the amusement park was changing- all the families with small kids and baby strollers were going home, replaced by young professionals let out of work, students, and young couples. The four of them were arrayed on a park bench. Ann had an arm around Shiho’s back, and Shiho’s legs were draped unselfconsciously on Ann’s lap. Ann was pressing a cool water bottle against Shiho’s aching calves in lieu of an ice pack. Ryuji, meanwhile, was laying down, his legs hooked over the bench’s side rail, his head in Akira’s lap. Ann and Shiho were kind enough not to comment. Akira, though… “This is nice,” Akira said, smirking. “Shut up,” Ryuji muttered. “There wasn’t enough room for me to sit down.” “Yeah, okay,” Ann snorted, but Shiho shushed her. “You comfy down there?” Akira asked, stopping short of petting Ryuji’s hair- Ryuji was already flustered enough. “Y-Yeah,” Ryuji muttered. “...Although, uh, this better be your wallet.” “Don’t make it weird.” Ryuji sat up, looking up at the others. “So. Think we should call it a day?” “It’s getting late,” Shiho said. “How much longer will they be open?” “We’ve got time,” Ann cooed. “If you’re still feeling up to it.” “Well,” Akira said, digging out his brochure. “It’s starting to get dark. Which means there’s one more place we have to go…” ~*~ “This was absolutely zero percent the place I had in mind,” Akira muttered at the entrance to the haunted house, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Oh, let’s go! It’ll be fun!” Shiho exclaimed, bouncing on her heels in excitement. Akira frowned, since that must surely be painful for her. “Uh… guys…?” Ann blinked. “I don’t know about this one.” “Come on,” Ryuji said, taking Ann and Akira by the hands and pulling them inside. “We’ll all go together…” ~*~ “Ryuji,” Akira whispered. “What?” “You know how, sometimes, celebrities will go into one of these haunted houses, and they have people with night vision cameras and stuff follow them around so they can see more clearly…” “Yeah?” “Do you think it’s any less scary for the guys with night vision cameras?” “Why would it be? They can see. They’re not… inching their way through in the dark…” “I dunno. Maybe, sometimes, it’s scarier to know exactly what’s out there, instead of just having a feeling…” “Dude, it’s a haunted house. It’s not that deep. It’s just darkness and strobe lights and cheap-ass jump sca- aaaaAAAWFUCK!”” ~*~ Elsewhere… “Shiho? Shiho, listen to me. Just listen. I know they went down this hallway. Everything’s going to be fine. It’s going to be fine. We’re going to find the guys in no time. There is nothing… nothing… to be afraid of. Okay? Okay. I’m right here. It’s going to be fine. You’re going to be fine.” “Ann, are you okay?” Ann scoffed. “‘Am I okay’? Pfft. This is- This is nothing I haven’t seen befo- ohhhhHH!” “Ann. It’s just me. That’s my hand.” “Okay. Okay. Okay.” “Ann.” “Okay.” “Ann.” “Okay. Um… can… can I hold your other hand, too?” “Ann, how are we going to walk, then?” “I dunno. Sideways?” “Alright… oh. Oh. Oh god.” “What? What is it?” “...Ann. I’m… holding both your hands, right?” “Yeah.” “Oh.” Shiho’s voice went small. “...just checking.” A pause. Shiho screamed- ~*~ “I… am so… sorry...,” Shiho said, bowing deeply at the waist. “Hey, hey, it’s fine,” replied a hapless park employee nursing a bloody nose. “You’d be surprised at how often this happens… or… well, maybe it’s not that surprising. Anyway. Please, enjoy the rest of your stay at Dome City Attractions.” Shiho shuffled back to the bench where Ryuji and Ann were waiting, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I’m sorry I got us kicked out,” Shiho murmured, slumping down beside Ann and burying her head in Ann’s shoulder. “Are you kidding? That was a hell of a punch,” Ann smiled sweetly, trailing a hand through Shiho’s hair. “I did it for you,” Shiho smiled. “What a hero,” Ryuji muttered, grinning. “Wish I coulda seen it.” “It’s a shame you two didn’t make it to the end,” Akira said, returning with an envelope in hand. He tossed it to Ann. “You guys missed the best part.” Ann struggled with the envelope, one-handed, unwilling to pull her other hand away from Shiho’s hair. Ryuji reached over and tugged the envelope down for her, and Ann pulled out what was inside- a glorious color photo of Ryuji and Akira recoiling in terror from an off-camera assailant, Ryuji all-but hurling Akira in front of him in his panic. “Geez, Ryuji,” Ann snickered. “Way to throw Akira to the wolves.” “Oh, yeah,” Akira smirked. “That’s going up on a wall.” “Listen, man, I’ve thought this through,” Ryuji said. “I hurt my leg, dude. Can’t run like I used to. But if the two us are getting chased by monsters, I only need to run faster than you.” “What a hero,” Ann muttered. “Listen, Ann, you gotta be able to make these tough decisions…” “Your glasses always catch the flash in photos, Kurusu,” Shiho chimed in, peering over Ann’s shoulder. “We can never see your eyes. What are you hiding in there?” “All my secrets,” Akira said, deadpan. “Like how to make lockpicks, or how to make the perfect onigiri.” “Dude, they’re just rice balls,” Ryuji said. “There’s no secret to making a good one.” “I guess that means you’ve never had a perfect one, then.” “Are you offering to cook for me, bro? Because I’ll eat you out of house and home.” “He will,” Ann admitted. “Um,” Shiho spoke up. “I… I hate to be a pain about this, but I should really be going soon. Is there anything else you all wanted to do?” “Yes, actually,” Akira said, tucking the photo away and pulling out his brochure. “There’s just one more thing…” ~*~ Call him old fashioned, but Akira Kurusu truly believed that a trip to an amusement park was never complete until you’ve had a ride on the ferris wheel. That was, until he saw just how tall the damn thing was. He stood at the base of the boarding platform, staring up at the world’s first hubless ferris wheel, that was also unfortunately-named. “‘The Big O’,” Shiho read, on the placard. “...Isn’t that that old show, with the mecha…?” “I mean,” Ann said, her cheeks red. “That’s, uh, not the first thing I would think of.” “Yo, I slipped the guy running this thing 1000 yen so we could all ride foursies,” Ryuji announced. They piled in, Ryuji and Ann in the middle, with Akira and Shiho on either side- two nights framing the day. Slowly, they began to rise. “You gonna be okay?” Ryuji asked. “It’s, uh… It’s a long way up.” “I’ll be okay,” Akira smirked. “I have you.” Ryuji shook his head, but couldn’t hide the tint to his cheeks. “Man, here I am, trying to be nice, and then you hit me outta left field with a line like that…” There was plenty more where that came from, because soon enough, they made it to the top of the wheel, and all of Tokyo stretched out around them, ablaze with neon light that blotted out the stars. For a moment, just a moment, they sat at the top of the world. Shiho clung to Ann’s arm, silently nuzzling Ann’s shoulder. Ann reached over and ran her fingers through Shiho’s hair. “Tired?” Ann asked, her voice soft and warm. “I know. We’ll be back home soon.” Ryuji decided, at the moment, to try a technique he’d only seen done on TV. He stretched his arms above his head, and when his arms came down, they settled around the shoulders of Akira and Ann beside him. Ryuji let out a contented sigh, as both Akira and Ann drew in closer to him. “...You know, you guys are, like, my best friends,” he said, completely sincere. “Yeah,” Ann exhaled, affectionately bumping her head against Ryuji’s, like a cat. “...But, if you’re gonna keep acting so sappy, I’ll never let you hear the end of it.” “It’s a hell of a view,” Akira said, innocently. Ryuji turned to him and barked out a laugh. “Dude. Can you, like, not look right at me when you say stuff like that? At least look at Ann or something. She always looks great.” “Aww, Ryuji said two nice things in a row! I think I might faint,” Ann teased. “Oh, shuddup,” Ryuji said, but he was grinning from ear to ear. He squeezed Akira’s shoulder. “And you. We’re having a moment, alright? Don’t make it weird.” “Listen, man, you put your arm around me.” “We’re high up and you’re afraid of heights,” Ryuji muttered. “I just didn’t want you to get dizzy or whatever.” “Uh-huh.” Ryuji sighed. Smiled. Just, y’know, two guys, at the amusement park, cuddling on the ferris wheel… “Hey, Ryuji?” Akira mumbled into Ryuji’s chest. “Yeah?” “...Do you work out?” Ann snorted. Ryuji just grinned and shook his head. “Dude. What did I just tell you about making it weird?” ~*~ They joined the trickle of people leaving Dome City, stepping out of the park and back into the real world, with its grimy streets, and neon lights, and men in cheap suits scurrying past. “Thanks for this, Akira,” Ann said, smiling bright. “You too, Ryuji. Today was a blast. We gotta do this again. And, hey, next time, it’ll be on us.” “Can I get that in writing?” Ryuji asked, and Ann socked him in the arm. “How much longer will you be in town?” Akira asked Shiho. “One week, maybe two. Then it’s back out to the countryside for me,” Shiho replied. “Then I hope I’ll see you again,” Akira nodded. “Me too,” Shiho smiled- small, but warm, like a candleflame. “I… don’t really get out much, aside from some dinners with the volleyball team, so, um… this was nice. And… well… just in case I don’t see you again… thank you, for tonight. It means so much.” Shiho offered her hand, and Akira took it. Out of the corner of his eye, a white butterfly flitted past. “Any time,” Akira smiled. The girls waved and then disappeared down the street, hand in hand. Akira watched them go. Ryuji lingered by his side, sticking his thumbs through his belt loops. “Those two,” Akira muttered, thoughtful. “...They’re good for each other, don’t you think?” “Yeah,” Ryuji nodded. “Y’know, they kinda remind me of us.” Akira raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?” “N-Nevermind,” Ryuji muttered. Akira only smiled. “Come on,” Akira said. “I’ll race you to the station. Last one there’s got to buy both our tickets.” “Oh, c’mon, dude, I’ve got, like, no cash left on me…!” Ryuji called out. “Then you’d better win!” Akira grinned, and kept running. ~*~ The attic at Cafe Leblanc felt so small and quiet after spending the whole day surrounded by crowds. Akira flopped face-first onto his bed, suffused with that oddly satisfying full-body ache of having spent the whole day out with friends. His limbs were heavy. But his heart was light. Morgana only barely stirred from Akira diving into bed. He opened one sleepy eye, shining blue in the dim light. “H-Huh? Whoa… How… How long was I out?” Morgana wondered. “It’s night already,” Akira shrugged. “You could just go back to sleep.” “Sounds like a plan,” Morgana said. He shrugged, if a cat could be said to shrug, and closed his eye. The blue glow disappeared, and Morgana returned to being a shadow with white mittens at the foot of Akira’s bed. Akira’s phone chirped. He held it up, and saw Makoto’s stern-faced icon in the group chat. Akira. About these recent expenses… I can explain, Akira sent. Let’s talk about this in the morning. Akira closed the group chat with a sigh, and laid back in bed, exhausted. That should have been the end of it. But something nagged at the edge of his senses. A glimpse of yellow eyes flicked across his vision. Voices swam through his head… ...a treasure… when I thought I had nothing, I had Ann. When I thought I was nothing, I… ...I know you understand. You see right through me… ...just in case I don’t see you again… ...thank you, for tonight. Akira exhaled. Maybe it was nothing. It was probably nothing. But if it was something, and he ignored it… Akira sat up. He held up his phone and tapped the app icon, a red eye with a star for a pupil. He heard the familiar chime, and the familiar voice. “Welcome to Metaverse Navigation. Please state your query.” Akira raised his phone to his lips. “Shiho Suzui.” There was a chime… ~*~

[garden-ghoul]

return of the blog, part 2

“...”

THE PASSING OF THE GREY COMPANY

Merry is hanging out with the tracking party, feeling a bit lost and very useless-baggage-y. What’s going to happen, Aragorn? Well, Aragorn is being very dramatic, bless him. “Do not look for mirth at the ending. It will be long, I fear, ere Théoden sits at ease again in Meduseld. Many hopes will wither in this bitter Spring.” Oh, Aragorn.

Four riders are trying to catch up to the Rohirrim; everyone is, of course, very suspicious, but it turns out the leader is Aragorn’s good old friend Halbarad, a ranger and Dunadan! And Elrond’s cool sons are with him! They brought thirty dudes to help in the war effort. Like I’m sure they’re very skilled and all but. Thirty dudes. You take what you can I guess. Apparently they received a summons from Galadriel after Gandalf was resurrected. Everyone is back at Helm’s Deep now (I missed them actually going there), mainly I mention this because there now exists a place called THE DEATH DOWN, where the huorns killed just massive amounts of people.

Theoden is holding one last feast before they all go to war; he tells Merry he shall ride with him!

‘May I?’ said Merry, surprised and delighted. ‘That would be splendid!’ He had never felt more grateful for any kindness in words. ‘I am afraid I am only in everybody’s way,’ he stammered; ‘but I should like to do anything I could, you know.’

He’s such a good kid. Theoden says he’s going to be king’s squire! Not sure why, the eve of a colossal war is not really the best time to be sparing people’s feelings of uselessness. Or maybe he’s trying to free up whoever is his current squire to kill some people? You don’t do that sort of thing for no reason is all I’m saying. Anyway, in a stupendously clear parallel to last chapter, Merry lays his sword at Theoden’s feet and swears fealty. I loove the contrast between Pippin swearing fealty to a lord he doesn’t really like out of obligation and gratitude; and then Merry swearing fealty to a lord he very much admires out of a desperation to somehow be useful. Pippin’s rather awe-filled reception at Minas Tirith contrasts with Merry’s anxieties about being a burden. Then there’s this:

‘As a father you shall be to me,’ said Merry.

‘For a little while,’ said Théoden.

AWKWARD. Merry why must you. Anyway Aragorn comes up and tells Theoden he’s going to take the Paths of the Dead (everyone in earshot shivers) despite having said a couple paragraphs ago that he would have to be REALLY DESPERATE to do that. Theoden’s company rides off; Aragorn is like “wow I love Merry so much, he’s such a good and important person.” And everyone else agrees: “hobbits are super important and I love them.” I think it’s supposed to stand in contrast to Merry’s own poor opinion of himself, but I’m not really sure why they have such a high opinion of him. Just because he’s brave? Shrug. Aragorn also says he looked into the palantir and had a staring contest with Sauron to wig him out. “I’m the heir of Elendil,” he said. “Here’s Narsil! Right here! Remember her, motherfucker?” And Sauron, reportedly, went “Oh fuck.”

Then Aragorn explains why he’s going thru the Paths of the Dead. You probably know already, so I won’t relate it here. There is a seer involved though, which is pretty cool. Some oathbreaking. Very Numenorean honestly, these dead Men of the Mountains remind me of the Faithless, in that the reason for their oathbreaking is a new unexpected allegiance to Sauron. And with that exposition, the “greay company” is off! For some reason they make it to Edoras long before Theoden does, and Aragorn comes to say hi to Eowyn. 

When she heard of the battle in Helm’s Deep and the great slaughter of their foes, and of the charge of Théoden and his knights, then her eyes shone.

I see what gogol means. Eowyn is gay for Deeds. She also conceptualizes being the ruler of Edoras and sorta Rohan as “exile,” because WHY would you want to rule anything when you could be killing people??? The next time we hear a description of Eowyn it’s that “her eyes were on fire.” Why did baby ghoul relate so much to Eowyn? Up until now I thought it was because she was the only TV lady who had freckles like me, but actually maybe it was her nebulous gender dysphoria and frustration. She is SO frustrated. First she offers to ride with Aragorn on his death errand. He refuses her; she’s the ruler of the Mark. BITTER. BITTER BITTER BITTER. WHY DOES EOWYN ALWAYS GET LEFT BEHIND? IS SHE NOT A SHIELD-MAIDEN? This is a good exchange:

‘A time may come soon,’ said he, ‘when none will return. Then there will be need of valour without renown, for none shall remember the deeds that are done in the last defence of your homes. Yet the deeds will not be less valiant because they are unpraised.’

And she answered: ‘All your words are but to say: you are a woman, and your part is in the house. But when the men have died in battle and honour, you have leave to be burned in the house, for the men will need it no more.’

Get him, Eowyn. I mean, it IS essential to make sure non-combatants in Rohan stay safe and such, but Eowyn is right that she shouldn’t be forced into the unpraised deeds just because she’s a woman. Before you say such things, Aragorn, maybe start a culture of praising valiant deeds that don’t involve killing anyone?? Then we’ll talk.

Once again as Aragorn’s company rides away we get the same exact image of Eowyn standing and watching them go... this time filled with tension and anger, her fists clenched and tears in her eyes. Aragorn is sad about it. Whatever, dude. We timeskip to the entrance of the Path of the Dead, where the Dunedain are gentlly coaxing their horses in through the awful doorway. Legolas has to enchant his horse to get it to go in. Gimli is left alone outside, possibly the only one who feels so viscerally how wrong this underground passage is compared to what it should be. I think his fear is greater for the fact that he has never felt uneasy underground before; it’s like home, perverted into something dreadful. As they go forward Aragorn calls the dead. No-one answers, but Legolas can see them riding behind. As they ride through Morthond Vale I am getting the impression that there are living humans there? And they are afraid because, like, the king of the dead. Aragorn and co ride hell for leather for the Stone of Erech.

The Stone of Erech is an enormous black sphere, half buried in the ground, that for some reason was brought out of Numenor. Like... you didn’t have anything better to bring on your ships than an enormous black sphere of stone? Anyway this is the site of the oath that was broken, and now the dead are ready to fulfill it and have peace after like 3000 years. “When all this land is clean of the servants of Sauron, I will hold the oath fulfilled,” he says. Which is pretty harsh. Like, what if a hundred years from now there’s just one servant of Sauron remaining? That would just suck for everyone. Also he unfurls a banner Arwen made for him, which is apparently black on black. Love it. Very stylish. So that’s the muster of the dead. What about

THE MUSTER OF ROHAN?

This bit is confusing because I thought it was going to be Pippin POV but then as soon as they mentioned the Rohirrim had made it to Gondor it turned into Merry POV. I never have a good intuition for what things Tolkien will think it’s reasonable to skip... Wait no they didn’t make it to Gondor. They just about made it to Edoras. This is very confusing and I have poor reading comprehension. The point is Merry is sad and lonely because everyone’s speaking Rohir or whatever and he misses all his friends and absolutely everyone he knows. The party reaches Harrowdale and climbs up a super steep path for some reason; it’s lined with Pukel Men, monoliths carved into a human shape. Ahhhh I love standing stones, Heck I love standing stones. They’re from the “dark years” (when Numenor was still going on and thus Real People weren’t in Middle Earth ::P) and some unknown people made this place, Dunharrow. OH. Here’s Eowyn! The reason they’re here is because Edoras has been evacuated, and Theoden wanted to check on his people.

While Theoden and his peeps are having dinner a messenger from Gondor comes in and Merry is like BOROMIR??? WTF. But no, he just can’t tell Gondorians apart haha. Also what was the point of the beacons if Denethor was just going to send a messenger straight to Theoden. Theoden promises 6000 guys (not bad! that’s twice the entire Gondor) in one week, though the messenger says a week will probably be too late. Still, he says sarcastically, maybe you can disturb the orcs feasting on our corpses.

Merry wakes up the next day in the darkness; the sun will not rise today. Or if it does nobody will see it, because Sauron has sent a great wave of black clouds across the sky to embolden his troops. Dreamy. Theoden is releasing Merry from his service (yes, after three days, what a copout) to serve Eowyn here while she rules the noncombatant Rohirrim. Merry is. Sad. He wants to help! Even if he has to be tied to a horse! But no dice. Eowyn takes him off to arm himself anyway. Thanks Eowyn you are a true bro. As Theoden’s company leaves, they sing a song that is clearly based on Anglo Saxon epic poetry, and also I believe was not meant to be sung. So. Minus points, Johnald. It doesn’t sound like a song, it doesn’t scan like a song. It’s a nice poem, though. A nice lad called Dernhelm offers to bear Merry on his horse and hide him since Theoden won’t take him. Thanks for showing us Eowyn’s exact transition goals, it’s good.