#my brain is going wild searching through the pilot to try and grab as much info as I can

[plasky]

!!SPOILERS TO THE AMAZING DIGITAL CIRCUS: PILOT!!

Tbh I definitely feel like Kinger has some Trama or at least some history with abstracts from the possible people that abstracted while he had been there

He's clearly freaking out than he did the other times when abstracted Kaufmo showed up

Along with the fact that he's constantly scared by just random people and very jumpy

Also!!! Has been said to have "Supposedly been here the longest" so it would make sense for him to freak out if he's been here so long

There's obviously been more people here before him and we can thank the doors for that!!!:

And the only form or way we've seen people get basically thrown out of the Circus was to become Abstracted.

[ also another random thing to add that's a queen chess piece that's been crossed out that's the door literally right before Kinger's (not important to the theory thing but someone I wanted to add.)!! ]

It's also been shown there has definitely been people abstracted before Kaufmo:

Look at all those eyes woah!!!!

Idk it just makes sense to me and I don't know if this is some obvious thing that I'm pointing out!!!

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(The Bad Batch) The Awkward Chronicles

(Author’s Note:  Here is some wild Bad Batch content for you.  I’m still not entirely sure why I did this, but I was sitting here laughing and blushing at this madness.  I’m one of those people who gets embarrassed so easily, so this fic was a ride for me.

-We all have ideas on what it’d be like to live and fight with the Bad Batch.  These are some short examples of the less glamorous things that can happen when you dwell with five males on a tiny ship-

Warnings:  Some awkward situations, embarrassment, some crude humor, potty humor)

Link to The Sequel

   You were walking down the hall, minding your own business, when it happened.  The lights went out.  As a matter of fact, it seemed that power in the entire ship was down.  You were left stranded in the pitch black, feeling around for the wall for only a few seconds before a low hum sounded and the emergency lights came on.

   The hall was cast in an eerie red light.

   “Tech!” Hunter’s growl made you jump.  That’s when you remembered; the last time you’d seen the Sergeant was when he excused himself to the refresher to take a shower.  A loud bang sounded on the door just a few feet away from you.  “Tech, what’s going on?”

   Before you could respond, the door slid open, and a very disgruntled Hunter emerged. It was quite a sight.  His long hair was damp and full of suds, some of which was falling into his eyes, and he wore a towel around his waist.  He was trying to blink the soap from his eyes, and he must not have seen you there because he marched straight into you.

   You yelped, hands shooting up instinctively to try and cushion the blow.  They landed on his broad chest, and you shrunk away awkwardly.  The dampness of his skin and the proximity was enough to make your face flare up.  Embarrassment quickly took its toll.  You were glad that the emergency lights were dim.

   “__________?” Hunter asked in disbelief, swiping the back of his hand across his eyes.  His grumpy demeanor was replaced with surprise.

   “Um, yeah, it’s me,” you replied.  “Sorry.”

   “I’m the one who ran into you,” he said in amusement.  He was right, but something about the situation just made you feel like you should apologize.  Maybe it was the way you were trying so very hard to meet his eyes and not let your attention wander.  

   Funny enough, Hunter didn’t seem at all bothered by the situation.  He continued to stand there unabashedly, eyes flickering past you.   “Where’s Tech?  Do you know what’s going on?”

   “He was making repairs in the cockpit,” you said. 

  “Would’ve been nice if he at least waited until no one was using the shower,” he mumbled.

   “Yeah, very true.  Here, I’ll just…”  You glanced at the floor, biting your lip.  “I’ll, um, tell him to hurry up with the power.”

   “Thanks,” Hunter nodded.  He gathered up his damp hair which had started to drip more suds down his shoulder, and turned to head back into the refresher.  You spun around and hurried toward the cockpit, ready to face-palm.

   That image won’t stay burned into your mind or anything.  Nope.

- - - -

   You glared at the empty roll.  It sat there tauntingly as your brain desperately thought of options to solve your current predicament.

   If you really wanted to, you could pull your bottoms up just enough to shimmy out of the refresher and grab a new roll of toilet paper in the supply closet.  It was a small ship, though, so there were a few things that could make the plan go awry.  Someone could easily walk by and witness the unfortunate situation.  Or worse, someone could be waiting for you to exit the refresher and slip in after you walk out the door.

   Your best bet would be to see if someone could bring you a roll.  Wrecker was the most ideal choice.  He was likely the one who left you with an empty roll in the first place, and he was the most relaxed of the group about things like that.  Not to mention you’d rescued him from the same situation a few times already.  You could count on him cracking a joke and then just moving on.

   Speaking of which, you heard his heavy footsteps going down the hall right then.  Relief washed over you as you grinned and gave the refresher door a knock.  “Wrecker!  Can I ask a favor?”

   “Sorry, ________!  I’m moving something for Hunter,” he grunted.  “Crosshair’s here though!  He can help you out.”

   Your smile faded.

   Crosshair was not a bad guy, but to say that you weren’t exactly eager to ask him to get you toilet paper was an understatement.  How could you bring yourself to ask the man and have him know your awkward situation?

  “What do you need?” Crosshair’s smooth voice was muffled through the refresher door.  You took a deep breath as you decided to take the plunge.

  “I, uh, I need someone to grab toilet paper from the closet.”

  It was dead silent on the other end for a minute, and you were inwardly cringing.  Your heart was thumping wildly in your chest, and your face practically burned with shame.

   “Isn’t there any under the sink?”

   “Already checked,” you said.  “Someone forgot to restock it.”

   “That would be Wrecker.”  He sighed in annoyance.  “Give me a minute.”  It felt like forever before you heard him knock on the door again.  “I’m...I’m just going to leave it here.”

   “Thanks,” you called through the door.

   His footsteps faded away, and you cracked the door open just enough to snatch up the roll.

   In hindsight, Crosshair had been pretty cool about the whole thing.  You weren’t sure what to expect, but your wildest imagination had envisioned his tone being laced with disgust, or at the very least irritation toward you.  Or maybe a snide comment.  Even so, it didn’t do much to derail the embarrassment that had set in when you joined the others in the cockpit.  You had a hard time looking Crosshair’s way for a while.

- - - - 

   Where could they be?  You rested your hands on your hips, frustrated.  You had searched every inch of your bunk for your boots to no avail.  Hunter and Wrecker were waiting for you outside the ship to join them for a supply run.  The only thing you could think of was that perhaps during the last crash-landing, they slid up to the front.

  With a sigh, you typed up a quick message to Tech on your holopad.  He was already up there working on one of the panels: maybe he could check.

   Three dots appeared on the screen, which meant he was typing up a response.  Then, they disappeared.  They reappeared once more.  Confused, you were about to head up to the cockpit anyway before a ping sounded on your device, alerting you of his response.

   I take it you were asking about your boots.  If that’s the case, then yes, they’re here up front.

   Your brows furrowed.  “What…?  I did ask about boots.  What does he think I wrote?”   You scrolled up to see your original message, covering your mouth in shock.

   It read: Tech, have you seen my booty?

   You quickly typed up a response.  Oh my gosh.  Yes, I meant to say boots.

   That explained his hesitant reply before.  Your face heated up at the thought of the brainiac reading your typo and short-circuiting for a moment, being unsure of how to go about it.  You choked back a laugh on your way up front to fetch your boots.

   Tech was kneeling down beside the panel when you arrived.  

   “Heyy,” you greeted.  He paused his work to lift his helmet.  There was a hint of amusement in his gaze, and you could see the way he was fighting a smile.

   “Hello, ________.”

   “About earlier,” you grimaced.

   He finally cracked a smile, chuckling.  “No worries.  These things tend to happen.  I set your boots over there.”  He nodded in the direction of the co-pilot seat.  Face flushed, you grabbed your boots off the chair and pulled them on before heading out to join Hunter and Wrecker.

- - - -

   “Alright,” Hunter shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “Who was that?”

   Everyone in the cockpit exchanged looks, some accusatory.  Under normal circumstances, you’d think the whole thing was childish.  But for someone with Hunter’s abilities, you sort of understood why every time someone passed gas, it became a game of “who did it?”

   It was almost always Wrecker.  Sometimes he’d admit it proudly, and other times he’d try and deny it.  This time, it seemed, he was out for blood.

   “It was __________,” he said.  “I heard it.”

   All eyes turned to you, including Hunter’s vexed expression.  You glared at the largest Bad Batcher with your heart thumping in embarrassment.  “Was not!”

   The corner of his mouth twitched.  A hint of a smile, though he quickly hid it.  “Come on, _________.  It’s bad enough that you disturbed Hunter’s ‘advanced senses.’”  He quoted the phrase that he’d heard Tech throw around before.  “But don’t try and cover it up.”

   “It wasn’t me.”  You replied in disbelief.  Turning to Hunter, your eyes took on a more pleading look.  “You’ve got to believe me.”

   “You’re being awfully defensive,” Echo noted.

   “Yeah, awfully defensive,” Wrecker repeated, nodding furiously.  “Own up, ________.  That one was really bad.”

   You sighed.  “This is silly.  It wasn’t me, and you know it.”

   “Maybe it was,” Crosshair shrugged.  “And maybe it wasn’t.”

   “Either way,” Hunter interrupted, shooting each of you a look.  “I’ll ask all of you one more time.  Try and hold off until we land, so I can leave.”

   The cockpit fell into silence once more, and you turned around to take a seat in one of the passenger chairs, brooding over the situation.  Wrecker shot you a cheeky grin, and you rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the smile that crept its way onto your features at his childishness.

- - - -

   “__________, could you fetch me another wrench?” Tech asked, grunting as he pulled out a few wires from the opening in the wall.  “I’m going to need it in a minute.”

   Your eyes caught something shiny on the tool kit he had laid out on the floor of the cockpit.  Kneeling down to pick it up, you shrugged.  “You mean like this?”  Tech glanced your way and shook his head.

   “A smaller one.”

   “Oh alright,” you sighed.  “Be right back.”  You moseyed your way out of the cockpit, taking your time because it was a slow day and there was no rush.  It was unusual for the ship to be so quiet.  That was most likely because Wrecker wasn’t on board.  He went with Hunter and Crosshair to see the planet a little.

   On your way back to the rest of Tech’s tools, you saw Echo making his way up front.

   “How go the repairs?” he asked.

   “Pretty good,” you said with a nod.  Both of you had paused to converse for a moment in the hall. “I’m grabbing some more tools for Tech.  Apparently the toolkit he brought up front doesn’t have the wrench he needs.”

   Echo chuckled.  “Well, good luck to you.  I’ve got my own repairs to make, or else I’d help.”

   “Well, thanks anyway.”  You smiled.

   “__________!” Tech called.  “If I am to proceed, I will need that wrench.”

   “One second!” you called back.  Shrugging, you mumbled, “duty calls.”  Echo and you both stepped aside so the other could pass by first.  A few chuckles floated into the air, and before you knew it both of you were taking a step forward at the same time.

   “Wow, okay, I’m sorry,” you said, feeling a little shy at the awkward close proximity.  Both of you sidestepped, bringing your chests together again.  Echo fidgeted a little with the contact.  Heat flooded your cheeks at how you were so close you nearly kissed.  Your friend rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.  

   “Ah, sorry,” he mumbled.  “Why don’t you just go ahead?”  This time, he managed to take a step back and over against the wall, lighthearted laughter leaving his lips as you walked past.

   “Sorry,” you told him again over your shoulder.  As you walked away, you felt that familiar twinge of embarrassment.  Poor Echo looked somewhere between amused and a little embarrassed himself.  You were a little relieved to hear another laugh from him down the hall.

[ragingpancake]

I Got You

A/N: I watched Echoes the other night and frankly, I just needed to write this. Sort of an unofficial sequel to The Road to Nowhere Leads to Me.

They’re almost back to Atlantis from the mainland when Rodney realizes that maybe something’s a bit off with Sheppard – er… John (and he has to remind himself to start calling Shep—John by his first name because this whole… thing between this is still relatively new and it’s probably not social acceptable for one to refer to one’s boyfriend by last name only). No one would ever really call him chatty, but this level of quietness is almost unsettling, especially when Rodney tries to goad him into some gentle bantering and he’s just not having it. “What’s wrong with you?” He asks finally as the city is just coming into view. “Huh?” Rodney squints, mouth turning down in a frown. “I certainly didn’t stutter, Colonel.” Maybe that’ll get his attention.

He waits a moment, and then two. Nope. Nada. The lights are on but nobody’s home. “… John.”

At that, John lifts a hand and presses the heel of it against one of his eyes, wincing and Rodney notices for the first time how not well the other actually looks. “I’ve just… got this killer headache that won’t go away,” he says and it actually sounds pained in a way that Rodney isn’t quite used to from him. He watches as John squints at the city in the distance. “Maybe I should take over?” For a split second, he thinks John might be considering it before he shakes his head. “Nah, s’alright. I know how much you struggle to fly in a straight line.” There’s the smallest hint of teasing in his voice but Rodney doesn’t rise to the challenge because it’s such a weak attempt on John’s part that he knows he’d absolutely assassinate John with a comeback and where’s the fun in that? “Are you sure? Because, because I’ve been in one of these things when it’s crashed into the water, if you remember correctly, and I really have no intention of repeating that, so if you aren’t feeling well, I’d rather just--.” “Rodney,” John says and now, there’s a trace of a bite to his tone. Wow. Hostile. “Okay, I’m just saying--.” “I know,” John says. “But it’s fine. I’ve got it.” Rodney resigns himself to believing that for about a split second until he glances over again and notices the blood dripping from John’s nose. “John--.” “Dammit, Rodney! I said I’m--.” And whatever lie John was about to tell dies on his lips as he slumps over, head smacking the console. Immediately, Rodney leaps into action, grabbing John before he slips out of the pilot’s chair to ease him down onto the floor, his head lulling to the side sickeningly. “Jumper 1, this is Atlantis, come in. Your course has drastically shifted.” Radek’s voice comes through the comm system in the jumper and Rodney suddenly realizes that no one is, you know, actually piloting. “I need a medical team to the Jumper Bay. Sheppard is down, I repeat, Sheppard is down.” He scrambles into the pilot’s chair and manages to jerk it upwards approximately three point five seconds before the jumper crashes into the ocean. “Rodney?” It’s Elizabeth’s voice now, and she sounds about as worried as Rodney feels. “Carson’s here. What happened?” “Can’t talk now! Trying to fly and not, you know, crash and send us both to our deaths in the horrifically vast ocean. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt.” “Rodney!” “Just have them standing by!” He cuts off the comm system and glances down at John who has not yet regained consciousness. “Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay.” It becomes his mantra as he somehow manages to navigate the jumper back to the city and into the bay. He barely has time to lower the door before a med team is swarming in and before Rodney has a chance to so much as breathe, they’re gone, John with them. There’s a small bit of blood on the floor from where John was laying and Rodney has to work very hard not to throw up. ---- It’s dark in the hallway, save for the faint blue glow emanating from the center of the wall closest to him. He reaches out, hand pressing against it and he can feel the thrum of hurt intensifying, adding to what’s already there in his head. He staggers at the force of it, drops to his knees and presses the heels of his hands against his eyes in an attempt to stave off the pounding of his head. But this isn’t his hurt, he realizes after a moment. It’s hers, and that thought alone is enough to force him back to his feet, hand reaching out to touch that blue light again. This time, he feels an almost burning heat fanning out from the center of his hand as the blue expands and he watches as it begins to creep across the wall, almost as if it’s beckoning him to follow. He’s never been good at following orders and he has the record to prove it, but he finds his feet moving, seemingly of their own accord, allowing the glow to lead him down the darkened hallway for what seems like forever until it stops, finally, at a room he doesn’t quite recognize. “Why am I here?” Because I need your help, she answers

back, the words cool and gentle within his mind. Find me, John Sheppard. Before it’s too late. “Before what’s too late? What are you trying to tell me?” But she’s already receding from his mind and all he’s left with is a light so bright that penetrates the darkness as John opens his eyes. --- Rodney’s there when John finally comes to under the bright lights of the infirmary. “Oh thank God,” he says as he slumps back into the chair, running a hand across his forehead. “Far be it from me to say I told you so, but--.” He doesn’t get a chance to finish before John is sitting up so quickly that it makes Rodney a bit dizzy, kicking the blankets off of his legs. “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He stands up, pressing a hand to John’s shoulder to ease him back down onto the mattress and Ronon is on the other side of the bed, doing the same. “Where do you think you’re goin’?” The Satedan asks in his natural rumble. “I have to help her,” John says and Rodney suddenly finds himself a bit miffed at that. “Help who?” He asks and if he sounds a little pissy, he thinks he’s probably allowed because you know, he’s the one been sitting at John’s bedside for the last several hours, worried very much about the possibility of brain damage and now that he’s awake, the first thing he mentions is some second rate harlot and--. “The city,” he rasps and he grabs Ronon’s wrist, trying to force it off of him. “Something’s wrong with the city.” “What? The city is fine,” Rodney says, but he’s reaching for his tablet anyway, pulling up the city schematics to scan over quickly, searching for any indication that something was not right. “See?” He says, and he turns the tablet to face John so he can see for himself. “The back up teams cleaned everything up nicely, there’s absolutely nothing that would indicate--.” “Rodney,” he says and there’s an almost wild look in his eyes as he glances up at the scientist, seemingly pleading with him to just listen. “They missed something. There’s something wrong, we have to--.” “Aye,” Carson greets, a smile on his face. “There ya are. Ya had us quite worried there for a bit. I’d still like to run a few scans--.” Rodney tunes him out as he searches John’s face and he supposes that there is a possibility that something was missed. It’s a huge city, many parts that they’ve yet to explore and the Wraith attack had been devastating. He rationalizes that this could also possibly be attributed to some sort of brain injury, what with the bleeding and the passing out and everything but something in John’s eyes gives him pause. Whatever’s brought him to this conclusion, John seems to truly believe that there’s something wrong with their city, with their home and while Rodney isn’t apt to act without actual evidenced based data, he finds that he can’t quite let this go without investigating. “Stop,” he says, holding up a hand to Carson. “We need to go.” “Go? What are ye on about?” Carson asks, clearly annoyed at the interruption. “We still don’ know what caused the bleedin’ an’--.” “Something’s wrong with the city,” Rodney says, echoing John’s previous statement. “We have to go.” Ronon glances at Rodney from across John’s bed and when Rodney gives a barely there nod, Ronon crowds Carson, gently ushering him away. “Sorry, doc.” “Oh, ye can’t be serious! Rodney!” “Can you stand?” Rodney asks John, and he reaches for him, carefully like he’s not sure where it’s okay to touch, especially in public, but John’s hand grabs his wrists and he squeezes gently. “Thank you.” “If you really want to thank me,” Rodney says dryly, “you can do so by not passing out on me again during what is sure to be a long trip around the city. “I’ll do my best,” John answers solemnly and Rodney supposes that’s as good as it gets. --- It’s dark outside, the Lantean sun having set several hours ago. They’ve split up into groups, Ronon and Teyla, Lorne and McMasters, John and Rodney. They’ve had absolutely no luck in finding anything of consequence and Rodney is trying very hard not to lose his temper because he’s

tried to show John on the tablet several times now that everything still shows all is well, but John is insistent. Desperate even, only growing moreso the farther away they get from the heart of the city. “Teyla, Ronon, this is McKay. Anything?” “No, Rodney,” Teyla answers back almost immediately. “It seems as though everything is still working as it should over this way.” “Lorne?” “All good here, doc. I’m gonna suggest we call it, at least for the night. Some of these labs haven’t properly been cleared yet, I’d like to--.” “No,” John says and when Rodney glances over to give him an exasperated glare, he realizes that John’s nose is bleeding again. “John, what are you--!” “This is the hallway,” he tells Rodney, reaching up to wipe the blood away, smearing it to his cheek. “This is… she needs us…” He reaches out and touches the wall and Rodney watches as it pulsates under his hand, a blue glow flickering to life. He’s always known that Atlantis liked John better than she liked anyone else, has seen it in the way rooms light up for him, the effortless way in which John activates all her tech, but this… this is something else. She’s actually communicatingwith him, he knows it. “Three levels above the east pier,” Rodney says into his comm. “Teyla—” “We are already on our way,” and over the radio, Rodney can hear the heavy footfalls of their feet against the floor. Rodney doesn’t realize that John has walked away, not at first, until he turns to see the glow halfway down the hall, barely illuminating John’s figure as it guides him further into the darkness. Rodney follows, and suddenly, John stops outside of a door. “Is this it?” Rodney asks, but he already knows the answer to the question. He slides his hand over the crystal, but the door doesn’t budge, not that Rodney expected it to. “Okay,” he says, and his voice is gentle now, perhaps more gentle than it’s ever been, but there’s something about the pinched look on John’s face that honestly, truly worries him. It reminds him of how he looked on the jumper, right before he, you know, passed out. He checks his tablet, but he knows it’s a moot point because the city is off-line down here, which is why they never knew there was a problem. The sensors just don’t reach this far, but he thinks he should be able to still get the door open. “John,” Rodney says, and there’s no response. “John.” But John seems not to hear him as he reaches for the door, fingers gripping the edge as he tries, desperately, to pull it open. “Oh, oh. Yes.” Rodney puts the tablet down carefully and he moves to the other side, glancing at John to follow his lead and as John pulls again, the noise that escapes him sends a shiver down Rodney’s spine. He screams as the door finally slides open and now, Rodney notices the blood trickling out of John’s ear, just in time to grab John as he crumples, guiding him to the floor. “Rodney!” Teyla’s voice echoes down the hallway, and Rodney calls back, voice nearing on hystericalas he situates himself below John to pillow his head on his lap. “Here! We’re here!” Ronon comes into view first, gun aimed, followed quickly by Teyla. “We heard screaming, what—John?” “It’s Atlantis!” Rodney says, “She’s using John to communicate, there’s something--.” Ronon needs to hear no more as he slips through the opened door and a second later, there’s the sound of laser fire. Rodney’s petting over John gently, shaking him gently, pleading with him to wake up but it’s to no avail. Teyla has disappeared inside of the room that John brought them to and Rodney risks a fraction of a moment to lean down, letting his lips brush against John’s forehead. “Please, please, please wake up.” John resolutely does not. --- “Did we do it?” He’s somewhere quiet and he’s alone, but he can feel her around him, leaving him warm and comforted, reminding him very much of being wrapped up in his mother’s embrace when he was seven and had the flu. He remembers that because before coming to Atlantis, it was the last time he felt well and

truly loved because she’d died less than three weeks later. You did, and he closes his eyes, letting her warmth wash over him. The pain is gone, both his and hers, he realizes and there’s a feeling of contriteness that settles inside of him, like she’s saying she’s sorry and he guesses she means for basically hijacking his mind. But, as unsettling as it should be, he finds that he’s always known she was there, really. The gentle thrumming, the quiet humming of her power he feels tucked away somewhere in the back of his mind. She wasn’t trying to hurt him, he knows. It’s not just his found family that cares for him, not just Rodney… but her too. There will be no lasting damage, she promises him and the warmth begins to recede, just a bit. To either you or me. But please tell Doctor McKay not to be too angry with me. The darkness is fading now with her and he’s not really sure why she thinks Rodney would be upset with her. He tries to ask, but the feeling of a gentle hand in his hair, a quiet murmuring of voices, breaks through and John closes his eyes, letting it guide him out of the dark. Thank you once again, John Sheppard. You saved us all. --- “—still don’t understand how we didn’t know it was here,” Elizabeth says and Rodney has to fight not to roll his eyes because they’ve been over this, he’s explained it ad nauseum. “The life signs detector is tied in directly with the city’s power grid,” he says exasperatedly and he thinks about reaching for his tablet as a nice visual aide but somewhere along the way, his hand had settled into John’s hair and it’s so soft that he kind of doesn’t want to pull it away. He doesn’t know if it brings John any comfort, but it brings him some, feeling the warmth of the other under his hand and damn if he’ll let anyone take that away from him. Even at the sake of his own sanity for having to go through this again. “That part of the city still doesn’t get any power. No power means it can’t communicate with us. We never would’ve known.” “… never would’ve known what?” The raspy voice from the bed asks and Rodney very nearly topples out of his chair as he yanks his hand back, gaping down at John, and “oh, thank god!” “Wraith,” Ronon says by way of explanation, like it’s the most natural thing in the world and Rodney supposes maybe it is. After all, at least for right now, it’s the Wraith that’s proved to be their biggest pain in the ass. “Technically, a Wraith transmitter,” Rodney corrects and he can’t quite tear his eyes away. “The Wraith was.. well, indisposed, as it was. How are you feeling?” “What d’y’mean ‘indisposed’?” “It blew itself up when it realized that the room was heavily shielded and that the beacon couldn’t get through,” Ronon says and Rodney glares at him, because he’sthe one who likes to do all the explaining, thank you very much. “Blew a hole in the wall almost the size of a jumper.” “Yes, well,” Rodney says, steering the conversation back, “somehow, there was some sort of a fail safe built into the city’s infrastructure. There was a kind of a force field where the wall used to be, not unlike that of the cells, but with no power, it wouldn’t have held much longer. When it failed, that thing would’ve sent our coordinates to every Wraith hive ship in the galaxy and well, the ruse would’ve been up. But enough about that, how are you feeling?” “Kinda like I got hit by a truck,” John says and he shifts on the bed to sit up a bit more. “The transmitter’s been taken care of?” “Blasted into almost as many pieces as the Wraith,” Ronon says proudly and Teyla squeezes his arm gently. “We are very glad that you are awake, John,” she says diplomatically, “but perhaps it would be best if we let you rest?” “Whaddya mean? That’s all he’s been doing,” Ronon scoffs, but Teyla tugs at his arm anyway, bless her. “Come,” she says. “Elizabeth, perhaps I could help you in your office, go over the schedule for the teams set to search the rest of the city?” And whatever look she shares with Elizabeth has her nodding, turning to give them both a

smile. “Of course, thank you Teyla,” she says and she reaches out for John, squeezing his arm gently. “Good to have you back with us, John.” John lifts a hand in response as everyone filters out, leaving him and Rodney alone. “You’re an idiot,” Rodney says, just because it’s expected of him, has become part of their standard routine whenever John lands himself in the infirmary. “For what?” “Oh, I don’t know, for letting a sentient city scramble your brains.” “She said she’s sorry, you know,” John says and Rodney rolls his eyes. “Of course she did. And when did we decide that she was a sheafter all? I suppose it makes sense, what with the way women across twogalaxies fawn over you, the famous Colonel Kirk.” “It’s okay to be jealous, Rodney.” “Excuse me? I am not jealous! I just think it’s a little funny that--.” “She even said she hopes you’re not too mad at her,” John interrupts. “What? Why would she care about that?” “I dunno,” he shrugs and he lays back against the pillow, closing his eyes. “Guess she knows how important you are to me. Probably wouldn’t wanna get in your bad graces…” He still can’t get used to this, this… thing. Where they care about each other, but have finally matured enough emotionally to say it out loud. “Yes well,” Rodney sniffs, and settles his hand back against John’s hair, “I’ll forgive her this time. But you tell that harlot--!” “Rodney,” John groans, “she said she’s sorry.” “Alright, alright,” he says and he leans forward, maybe a bit hesitantly, before he presses his lips against John’s. “I’m just… glad you’re okay.” “Yeah,” John agrees. “Me too, buddy. Now how about less talking and more hair petting?” Frankly, there’s nowhere else Rodney would rather be. “Go back to sleep, dummy.” “With pleasure.”

[capsironunderoos]

Fire

DINCEMBER - December 7 - Fire

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) X Reader

Summary: Din’s cyare has been captured and held at an Imperial base, and he stops at nothing to get her back.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Mentions of torture via Imps, a very angry Din, some fighting, and very brief mentions of death

Author’s Note: Ahhh this is so overdue! My student teaching started back up again after finals and I had some assignments to complete for it that kept me from writing. I had hoped to write more today, but that just didn’t happen. I hope to just post a bunch of the Dincember prompts at once in the next few days to get back on track! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this!

Here’s the previous prompt:

DINCEMBER - December 4 - Hoth Chocolate

And the link to my masterlist: capsironunderoos masterlist

This is the hardest that he has ever pushed his body. 

His arms are weak and his legs tremble, but he doesn’t stop. 

He can’t stop. 

If he does, he will suffer an unbearable loss, and there is only so much he can carry, so much that he can endure. 

His blaster never leaves his hand, becoming almost an extension of himself as he fires without so much as a glance. 

It makes no difference, the blaster bolt hits homes every time. 

He is focused, his skills as a bounty hunter and Mandalorian warrior continuing to serve him as he tears through the Imperial facility. 

Din thinks to himself that the Imps are beginning to multiply faster than womp rats, but he does not stop to dwell on the implications of that thought. 

If he stops for anything, to catch his breath, to check his surroundings, he will surely collapse. 

The stress of the past few days, of the constant searching and questioning have begun to take their toll. 

He shakes the thought of stopping from his mind, forcing himself to continue, regardless of the pain in his legs, and the ache that has already settled into his shoulders. 

He has never fought so hard before. 

His hands land punches that force the receivers into the nearest wall, and his feet connect to bones with such strength that the sound of their cracking rattles around his helmet like thunder. 

He spots an officer now, watches as he is hunched over a switchboard, punching at buttons as he glances from the control panel to the Mandalorian stalking towards him. 

Din will not admit it, but the fear in his eyes spurs him on. 

Good, he thinks, let them tremble before me, let them be afraid of the repercussions of what they have done. 

When he reaches the control panel, he grabs the officer by his throat, pushing him as he walks until they reach the wall. 

The officer’s head bounces off of the wall from the force of Din’s hand around his throat, cueing his hat to fall, and the echoing thud of his skull settles into a sick sense of satisfaction in Din’s stomach. 

“Where is she?” 

He growls out from behind his helmet, and the modulator amplifies the anger tenfold. 

The officer is visibly sweating now, thick bullets running down his forehead as he tries to look anywhere but at the enraged Mandalorian in front of him. 

This only stokes the fury growing in Din’s chest, and he picks his hand up off of the officer’s neck just long enough for him to gulp in a breath of air before his hand is settled around his throat again, and this time Din does not hold back. 

He cannot stop himself before a sickening crack fills the room around him, and the officer falls to the ground below him. 

Din huffs in annoyance, his adrenaline beginning to surge again. 

The pounding of his feet begins to subside as the chemical overtakes his body, and he feels a renewing sense of energy. 

He strides over to the control panel and is pleased to see different angles of a room displayed on it. 

The feed is live, and he stands stoically still as he sees you suddenly fall into frame. 

Your clothes are tattered and dirty, and your hair falls around your face as you collide with the floor. 

He can see your chest rising and falling, and a sense of relief begins to overtake the adrenaline. 

Din silently chants for you to get up, to show him that you never gave up hope that he would come for you. 

Maker how he hopes and wishes that you never gave up on him, that you always knew that he would travel to the farthest edges of the Outer Rim just to have you safe again. 

His heart rate speeds up when he sees two stormtroopers taking their time as they walk to where you still lay on the floor. It’s clear that they are speaking amongst themselves, but he doesn’t know how to work the control panel in order to hear what they are saying. 

He watches as one of them bends down to scoop you up and off of the floor, and as soon as he does, you leap up, swinging your leg to knock his out from under him. He lands on his back, and before either of them can react, you have grabbed his blaster, aimed, and expertly killed the both of them. 

Din watches with bated breath now, and he isn’t sure he remembers how to move. 

Seeing such a small glimpse of you, and in such a drastically different mental state than the last time he saw you, is enough for him to forget how to even breathe at all. 

His brain screams at him to move, to find you, but he does not listen until he sees you run out of the frame. 

He locates the identification numbers of your cell on the control panel and begins to run. 

Din is sure that the pounding of his feet against the floor would be enough to crack the tile, but he doesn’t care. 

He pushes himself, harder than he ever has before, to reach you as quickly as he can. 

You have been gone from his presence for far too long, and he cannot stand another second without you. 

As he rounds yet another corner, he knocks into something solid, and further extends his already drawn blaster in order for it to be in front of him, pointing at whatever he just knocked over. 

His actions quickly change as he registers that it’s you. 

You quickly jump to your feet, the trooper’s blaster you had stolen aimed at Din. 

He notices your hands shaking, and he can see bruises and cuts laced around your face. He notes how swollen your right eye is, and the blood resting against your split lip. 

“Din?” You whisper, almost in disbelief, and his heart plummets to his stomach. 

Had you given up hope that he would come for you? 

“They said you were here, but I didn’t believe them. I’m sorry, I didn’t believe them,” you begin to repeat your words, and Din notes that you are still aiming the blaster at him. 

He slowly holsters his own, before raising his hands in surrender in front of him. 

“Cyare, it’s me. It’s me. It’s Din.” 

He repeats, hoping that the words will register and that you will lower the blaster. 

Upon hearing his name, you do just that, and the blaster clatters to the ground before you fall into his raised arms. He is caught off-guard, but moves quickly to catch you before you meet the ground. 

You are crying now, soft whimpers as you clutch onto the chestplate of his beskar. 

He wraps you up into his chest, pulling you to him as he holds you. 

The alarms are blaring, and the lights are starting to flash, but he ignores all of it. 

When he hears the distant tone of talk through a stormtrooper helmet, he does not hesitate to scoop you into his arms. When you don’t protest, he looks down to see that you are either sleeping or have passed out, and he hopes that it’s the former. 

Despite the fact that he had to fight his way in, he manages to remember a way out, and by some miracle he doesn’t run into any trouble, except a mouse droid he has to shoo off. 

Once he emerges into daylight again, he begins running and he feels his body physically sigh in relief when he sees the Crest sitting just before him.

---

After jumping onto the Crest and immediately taking-off, Din quickly discovered that you had indeed passed out. He had let you be for the few moments it took him to launch the Razor Crest, but as soon as he was able to click on the auto-pilot he was back at your side, moving you to rest on the cot the both of you share. 

He sits beside you on said cot now, his hands moving to cup your face and turn it towards him. 

“Cyar’ika. Please wake up,” he begs, and oh, how he begs. 

He begins to make promises to the Maker, to the stars, hell, he thinks he even makes a promise to the force at one point. 

Din knows you require medical attention, but he wants you awake so that you can explain to him what has happened to you, even if he is unsure that he will be able to listen to you describe what you have endured. 

His hands move to your shoulders, and with a firm, but gentle, shake you gasp back into consciousness. 

You grab at his arms and he helps you sit up before realizing that you think he is one of them. 

“Cyare, I’m not going to hurt you. It’s me, it’s Din.” He whispers, and you look at him with wild, wide eyes. 

He can tell you are trying to figure out if you should trust him, but when you catch a glimpse of the signet on his right shoulder pauldron relief instantly floods your eyes and you look down at the similar symbol on your skin. 

His right hand finds it, his glove-clad fingers coming to rest against the mudhorn there on your wrist. 

You look back up at him then, and you can feel the emotion and exhaustion rolling off of him. 

“I need to get you cleaned up,” he deadpans, but his words are soft and laced with care. 

You nod and allow him to lead you into the cockpit of the Crest. 

He softly guides you into the pilot’s seat before he disappears for a minute to retrieve supplies, but you barely notice his missing presence. 

Your eyes have found the stars, and you drink them in as if they are cold Bantha milk. 

It had been days since you had seen them, and you missed how many there were, how easy it was to stare at them and have them calm every thought in your mind. 

When Din returns, he stands for a moment to watch you look at the stars in wonder. 

Their light shines into the Crest, illuminating the cockpit and painting a stark silver onto your features. He notices then just how bad your bruised eye is swelling, and how the bright light from the stars seems to deepen every cut he finds on your skin. 

Din can’t help but to let out a shaky sigh at the thought of what you’ve been through, and at the thought of what would have happened had he not gotten there when he did. 

Hearing his breath escape through the modulator cues you to snap your attention in his direction, and he wonders how long it will be before his presence no longer incites fear. 

“Cyar’ika, it’s me. It’s your Din. I’m not going to hurt you.” 

Your eyes stay wide and wary, but a small smile works its way onto your lips before it falls again. The cut on them has begun to bleed at the motion, and Din slowly makes his way to you to tend to it. 

He squats down in front of you, and you sit rigidly still. 

He lifts a wet cloth in front of you, and watches as you look between it and him. 

“I need to clean that up, okay? Is it okay if I do that for you?” 

You slowly nod, and his left hand moves to cup your cheek and keep your head still as his right gently swipes at the blood sitting on your lip. When he is satisfied that he has stopped the blood flow, he exchanges the cloth for another. 

“Now, cyare, I need to clean up the cuts and bruises here okay?” 

At the word “here,” he taps his left thumb softly against your cheek as his hand still cups your face. 

You nod and he removes his hand to brush the hair out of your eyes and away from your face. 

You whimper at the loss of contact, and the sound and action is so unlike you that it catches Din off-guard. 

“Haar’chak, what did they do to you?” 

He whispers, and he takes note of the tears that begin to sit along your waterline in response. 

“I wouldn’t tell them,” you start, and your voice cracks at the use of it. 

Din is quick to hand you a glass of water, and you take it from him, greedily gulping it down. He wonders then if you have been fed or given water at all since your capture. 

“I wouldn’t tell them where you were, or where he was. That got me time with some angry troopers. I think they may have broken a rib or two. One of them could land a pretty solid right-hook, for an Imp.” 

You try to laugh off your words, to pass over them as if they are nothing, but the sound won't come. A sad smile rests on your lips as Din continues his ministrations. His touch is soft as he does his best to clean the cuts on your face.

“Then I wouldn’t tell them your name, or the name of the child, and that afforded me a visit from an angry officer. He asked for the cameras to be turned off, and then proceeded to beat me so bad that I couldn’t stay conscious for most of it.” 

Din can feel his hands beginning to tremble as he continues to clean you up. They shake in both anger and sadness, and he is glad that it is time to apply the bacta patches. This gives him a moment to gain control over his nerves.

“I need to apply bacta now, okay?” He asks, and you nod. 

When the medicine hits your open wounds, a sharp hiss escapes through your gritted teeth, and Din’s heart constricts at the sound.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, and you shake your head before talking again, trying to mask the pain of the healing agent against your open cuts. 

“When I didn’t tell them if he was special, or gifted, or whatever they want to call him, they sent in the firing squad. That was when they told me you were there to rescue me. I didn’t fully believe them, but I knew if you were there that it would be my best chance to escape.” 

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get to you, cyare.”

You place your hand on his arm that rests in your lap, and he glances down at it.

“I never gave up that you would come for me, Din.”

He nods and returns to his work, his heart beating so fast he is sure that you can hear it hitting the beskar that sits on his chest.

As you sit in silence now, Din softly rubs at the cuts on your skin, his mind growing increasingly angry the more he thinks about what you endured, but his heart reaches out to you, aches for you. 

He was in pain too, upset that your capture had been because of him. That they had tortured you to get to him, to learn about the little one. 

As if you can read his mind, you ask him about Grogu.

“Where is he, Din? Please, please tell me he is okay,” you whisper, and it is the first time Din has been able to fully meet your eyes. 

“He is safe, cyare. I left him with Cara on Nevarro. We’re going to get him now.” 

You nod, satisfied with his response. Din hands you a cold compress and instructs you to press it onto your swollen eye. 

“I got this when I wouldn’t explain my relationship to you, or why I wear our clan symbol.” You mumble, and Din’s eyes flit to the mudhorn on your wrist once more. 

He thinks then about his clan of three, small and a little broken, but strong, and his all the same. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, and you stare at him before he says it again, louder this time. 

“I’m sorry I turned my back for too long during that fight. I’m sorry I didn’t come for you sooner. I’m sorry that I’ve dragged you into this mess, this is no life for you, or the child.” 

He rushes out, and you are shaking your head in disagreement so hard that it has started to ache. 

“Do not sit there and apologize to me, Din Djarin. I know what I signed up for, and I willingly signed up for it. I would give my life to protect that child, and I would do the same for you. Have I not proven that? Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.” 

Din’s helmet jumps up at the quick movement he makes upon hearing those words escape your lips. 

His eyes search yours through the visor, and he finds nothing but sincerity staring back at him. 

“I’ll kill them for what they did to you, cyar’ika.” He states, and you smile at him. 

“I would set the world on fire to keep you warm.”

Here’s the next prompt for Dincember:

DINCEMBER - December 9 - “Let It Snow”

[timextoxhajima]

Playlist Feels

*SHORT SERIES

Member: pilot juyeon thanks to him saying he wanted to be a pilot i couldn’t let this go

Genre: S M U T. this is going to be a long ride... (don’t say i didn’t warn you)

A/N: i spent TWO hours finding a track for this piece and i’m not gonna lie i’m very tempted to go wild with this one so i’m sorry if you start tearing up because it’s so unlike me to go nuts like this. the time now is 11.30pm, let’s see how long it takes me to produce a piece that makes YOU want to go to church. 

“stay on the ground until your knees hurt”

“another!” you call out boisterously, raising your glass so high and fast into the air that the alcohol found its way over the rims and only your hand. the crowd around you shouted and cheered, and sunwoo got out of his seat to get the attention of a bar girl who he doesn’t resist to rest his hands on.

you watch him whisper something into her ear, his lips just inches away from her skin. she licks her plump lips that you were sure had some kind of filler, dragging her long nail across his jawline and walking away, nodding at his order. 

“sunwoo!” you groggily call out. you were on your third glass of Kamikaze and the vodka was already starting to replace the fluid in your veins. your chest was burning and your fingertips were slowly numbing from the intoxication, and your nose picks up nothing but the scent of sweat mixed with all kinds of alcohol. “you’re supposed to be having fun with me, not flirting with the--” you belch and hyunjun glares at you with a look on disgust on his face. “bar girl.”

you start breaking out into snorts and snickers, hyunjun shaking his head at your ability to completely let loose so quickly. sunwoo returns to the table and downs a shot of vodka like it was water, wincing at the burn in his throat as he turns to you. 

“i am having fun with you, but it’s not going to be long before you get dragged off to some corner and get... i don’t know, pounded by someone!” 

he was sitting right next to you but the deafening club music that was echoing in the corners of your brain forced him to yell at you. you scoff, licking the sweet taste of the lime juice off your lips.

“so what if that happens? i’m never gonna see him again because guess who’s leaving the country tomorrow?!” you throw one arm around him, and the other picks up a shot. 

“i can’t believe you’re fucking ditching us to go to new york,” hyun jun looks up from his phone and raises a cocky brow at you, eyes hooded and a smile loosely hanging on his lips. the man was tipsy and the music was probably getting to him now. 

“aw,” you cough, downing the shot and slamming it down on the table. you pull both boys into you, arms around their necks and your drunken self tries to ruffle both their heads against each other. 

the bar girl that sunwoo was hitting on before comes by, more drinks in hand than you told sunwoo to order. you release sunwoo when the both of you notice the extra drinks, and the bar girl leans into sunwoo’s neck (which was such a cheap trick). 

you could’ve sworn she licked sunwoo’s ear just before she left, and she leaves all the drinks on your table. 

“you’ve got a secret admirer,” sunwoo smirks at you, pulling all the drinks over to your end of the table. “she said someone sent the drinks over for you.”

you raise both brows in pleasant surprise, a drowsy smile spreading across your lips as you instinctively stand up in the booth. eyes scanning the club with shitty-ass lighting flickering every second, heads bobbing up and down and people yelling here and there. 

it takes your doped vision to finally find your secret admirer, and he was standing on the second floor, torso over the railings and looking right down at you. his right foot was perched on the lowest bars and his arms were resting over the uppermost bar, swirling a small glass of whatever he was drinking in his right hand. 

you couldn’t really make out his face from this angle and the horrible, headache-inducing light, so all you do is raise a glass to him. 

“THANKS MAN!”

sunwoo and hyun jun jump at your sudden screeching, watching you down the shot in honour of your secret admirer before plopping yourself between the two of them. 

you let hyunjun and sunwoo reprimand you for taking up the promotion from the production company, but you knew deep down inside they were just sad you were leaving them. the three of you had been friends since you were teenagers and ended up in the same production company, and it was a dream you shared up to that point. 

accepting the promotion meant you were at a crossroad, and they did nothing but support your decision to go. 

‘time’ didn’t exist when you were stuck between your two best friends, in a booth in a club where the floor-shaking music made your hold on reality unreliable, and after enough shots, the alcohol was finally making your bladder full. 

you push past hyunjun, your rear brushing across his lap and you look back over your shoulders and grin at hyunjun as an apology. 

you stumble into the bathroom, the blue led lighting painting the walls a nostalgic blue and the red cubicles were such a terrible combination, your eyes began to glitch with the help of the alcohol in your blood. 

you get your business done, thanking god that you were in sneakers, else you would’ve fell inwards into the toilet bowl itself and probably get stuck there. the mirror presents you with a version of you that don’t really see anywhere. in fact, the only times you were dressed in a sheer top and black bra, pants and sneakers was when you let sunwoo drag you to a nightclub. 

you’re not really a fan of the loud, mind-juicing music most clubs play, much less the crowd. but tonight was an exception, because you had less than 24 hours before you were on a flight halfway across the world to start a new chapter of your life. 

you drink a mouthful of water from the tap in attempt to wash the heat from your chest, but when it fails, you’re not surprised. you turn to leave the washroom, the entrance right opposite the male’s toilet and someone comes out the same second you step out of the female toilet. 

you naturally look up and lock eyes with the man, and the first thing that strikes you were his eyes. they were long, focused, mysterious. 

then you realise that he was your secret admirer.

“oh, you!” the realisation washes through you, the alcohol motivating you to throw your arm around him and ruffle his hair. “thank you for the... good shit.” 

he grabs your wrist and stops you in your actions, pulling away and standing up straight. 

suddenly, his height becomes difficult to ignore, and you momentarily wish that you were in heels to match his eyes. 

he leans in dangerously close to you, the look in his eyes make you feel like you’ve done something wrong and it lights a fire in your stomach. “are you here with your boyfriends?”

you scoff loudly at his question, throwing your head back and hugging your belly, one of your wrists still in his grasp.

“who? sunwoo and hyunjun?” you start to snort and giggle uncontrollably, your free hand whacking him on the chest. “you’re funny.”

he tilts his head to the side but his eyes don’t change. 

“over my dead body, dude,” you wave it off, coming down from your humor. “they’re just my friends.”

he goes quiet for awhile, his grip on your wrist never once faltering. he tugs a little on your skin, trying to get your attention.

there was a heat between the two of you, and you couldn’t smell much besides the alcohol in both your breaths.

“can i have their permission to bring you elsewhere? or are they responsible for sending you home safely?”

you bite on your bottom lip, a smile of uncertainty pulling the corners of your mouth up your cheek. you harshly remove your wrist from his grip and throw both arms around his neck, the action requiring more effort than you calculated due to his height. you pull him down and force him into an unconscious power play, leaning into his ear and giving him a small nip on his ear. 

“you don’t need their permission, stranger. you can do whatever you want with me, i’m a grown woman after all.”

you were meant to scare his bold ass away, knowing that your drunken personality wasn’t one to be dealt with. but not only does he remain calm, he gives you the most menacing smile you’ve ever seen in your life. 

“i’ll take that as an invitation.” 

you rush back to the booth were sunwoo and hyun jun were, searching for your bag and downing a few shots while you were at it. they could tell you were in a rush, and you weren’t entirely sure why you were either. 

even if it was the alcohol that was letting you think this was a great idea, you were leaving. it didn’t hurt to have just one night of fun before you were shipped off to another country to work your ass off. 

“hey, hey, hey! where the hell are you going?!” sunwoo complains loudly, throwing his palm into the air. 

“i’m going on a date with my secret admirer,” you give them a mischievous smile, finishing one last shot before waving to them. “i’ll see you tomorrow at the airport, sweets.”

you lean in towards them and peck them on the crowns of their head, rushing off to look for the mysterious man who wasn’t one bit intimidated by your intoxicated self. 

you give him the address of your residence once you reach his car, because at least if anything were to happen, you know the lift lobby of your apartment building had cameras installed. even if you were murdered, there was no way this guy would go scott-free. 

once you get the door unlocked, he pushes you in, hands tightly gripping on the flesh of your rear while his lips fight yours. 

you drop your bag, feeling your back hit some wall in your apartment and your lipstick begins to smudge on his through the messy kisses. his hands were large, and the intensity of the moment rises when he bites on your lip. the pinch of pain pulls out a gasp, and he shoves his tongue into your mouth. 

he explores your mouth messily, and his hands don’t stop roaming your body. usually, you’d be slightly uncomfortable with letting a stranger into your place and letting him hook up with you like this, but the thought of him asking about your friends was strangely comforting. 

his fingers dig into your curves of your waist and he presses himself against you, sandwiching you between his body and the hard wall against your back. recklessly looking for your hands that were around his neck, he violently pins them against the wall over your head, and his large hands give him the privilege of doing it with only one hand. 

the moans and low groans were the only sounds you could hear, and his hand pulls your sheer blouse from under your jeans. his cold fingertips drag themselves across your stomach and up over your bra, harshly cupping your breast and kneading them. 

you feel yourself slowly beginning to melt under his touch, and you start squirming against his chest and the wall, but your wrists being anchored to the wall rendered your movements useless. 

he pulls away from the kiss, your tongues hanging between your lips as a trail of saliva breaks and it forms a drop on the corner of your mouth. you look up and look at him again under the better lighting, and you can’t help but notice how gorgeously defined his features were. sharp nose, high cheekbones, and good god those eyes. 

you were getting lost in them when he shoves his hand under your bra, your shirt still on you and the material collecting around his wrists. the contact sends you backwards into the wall, and his fingers start to play with your sensitive nub. the pull tightens around your torso, and you feel him attach his lips to your neck once your neck’s been turned away from the sensation of him playing with your nipple. 

you don’t even realise he’s let go of your wrists and your hands were now just gripping onto his hair and shoulders while he multi-tasks you into a mewling, whining mess. there was no space to wonder what he was doing with his other hand, until you realise he’s been undoing your belt and the button around your waist. 

he squeezes his hand under the material of the jeans that were just hugging your rear a few seconds ago, and his entire hand claws around the curves of your ass cheek. 

it was difficult to believe that not one piece of clothing has been removed. 

impatience was starting to fill your mind, and you could feel your core gradually getting wetter and needier, from a guy whose name you don’t even know. 

“let’s get this over with, i’m not really in the mood to play with you,” your voice comes out strained and needy, all the fondling and grabbing was just making you need him even more. 

but his hands don’t move. his fingers under your pants dig further into your skin and starts kneading the fat and flesh of your ass cheek like he was doing to your breast, and his lips finally tear away from your neck, only to reach your ears. 

“but you said i could do whatever i wanted with you.”

a playful smile erupts on your face and you poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue as he pulls away, eyes locking with yours again. 

you pull his arms out from under all your clothes and rest both your palms flat against his shoulders, slowly pushing him backwards and guiding him into your bedroom. 

“i’ll let you do whatever you want with me only if you win.”

you could tell something in him snapped, and you should’ve seen it coming, but you don’t. 

your back hits your closed door with a loud thump, and he repeats his actions from before: pinning your hands above your head. you let him have his fun and suck at the skin on your neck and lips, and your tongues take turn to fight a harsh, sloppy game of dynamics. his free arm shoves its way down your stomach and under your already unbuttoned jeans, finding your sensitive nub in your crotch. 

the pressure throws your attention off the power play between your tongues, and he pushes his wet muscle into your wet cavern. you could feel his arrogance and confidence soar, and it only riled you up even more when you now know he was a worthy opponent. 

he slips a finger under the material of your underwear and shoves a finger into you without warning, the sudden intrusion sending a sharp chill up your back. it rips you away from the kiss and you let out a loud moan that was music to his ears. 

the jeans were getting in the way, so he pushes it off your hips and down your thighs, your underwear following along with there rest of your pants. 

it was amusing to know that your bottoms had come off first instead of your tops, but maybe it was just him trying to tell you that he wasn’t going to go easy on you.

he was so preoccupied with eating your face and fingering you that his grip on your wrists had loosened, and you writhe yourself out of his hold, only to grab his hand that was inside you. you pull him out of yourself and bring it up to your lips, dragging your tongue oh so slowly around the skin of his finger before you wrapped your lips around it like it was a lollipop.

the sight of you tasting yourself brings more lust into his eyes, and you saw it. you smirk, finishing the last of yourself off his finger. he was so stunned, you took the opportunity to shove him backwards onto your bed and climb on top of him. 

“you’ve had your fun, now i’ll have mine.” you whisper into his ear, hands already travelling down to his groin and cupping his manhood. 

the growl that escaped from his throat was so satisfying to hear, and reason for the tightening material around his zipper was just so inviting. 

“aw, you treat me like i’m needy as if you aren’t yourself,” you straddle yourself around his lips as you reach out to a scarf you had strewn on your bed. you shove your lips between his and press your wet core onto his groin, sucking groans out from his chest as you wrap the soft material of your scarf around his wrists. 

he doesn’t notice it until you’ve tightened it with a knot. 

his eyes widen and you happily rile up his shirt to expose his skin. the veins that ran from his hips and under his pants were so inviting, you couldn’t resist but to attach your lips to the space around his pelvis while undoing his belt. 

you could hear him struggle to sit up, especially with his hands tied together, but you knew he couldn’t, not while you were busy leaving butterfly kisses all over his abs. 

his pelvis bucks upwards and his chin tilts towards the ceiling, your fingers undoing the button and zipper painfully slowly while you watch him writhe in lustful need. 

you leave his pants on, only exposing his tentage to yourself. the bulge was impressive, but you don’t expect any less, not when you’ve been playing with him like this. 

you lean your face close to his groin, your heavy breath landing on him through his boxers. your fingers play with the rim of his boxers, dragging only the fingertip between his skin and the material while you leave kisses on his pelvic bone. 

you hear a low growl from him, and veins start appearing on his neck as he grits his teeth in agony. 

you abruptly yank his boxers low enough for his length to spring out, and your eyes catch sight of the precum on the tip, already dripping down the sides of his swollen shaft.

you lower your head so your eyes were leveled with his as he lifts his head to look at you, his length just inches away from your lips. 

you make sure he was watching before you press your tongue flat onto his red tip, and an inhumane sound rumbles through him. you hear him curse and you suck only on the tip, your hands pressing against his thighs to prevent yourself from taking more of him into your mouth.

you pull him out, dragging your lips along the bare minimum surface of his skin, a mixture of your saliva and his precum sliding down the little veins that were emerging on the walls of his length. you crawl up back to him, pressing your face into his and kissing him so he could taste himself. 

he starts another power game with your tongue, his neck slowly leaving your bed as you feel the tip of him tap against your inner thighs. your hands were pressed to his chest were his shirt was still riled up to his collar bones, and you remember your shirt and bra were still on. 

you were so focused on winning the game between your lips that the sudden grip on your waist throws you completely off guard. your eyes widen and you immediately break the kiss, only to realise you had already been flipped over onto your knees, face buried in the mattress. he tosses the scarf right next to your face, and smile pulls your lips apart. 

you try to lift your torso off the cushion, but he finds your wrists and holds them down into your lower back, pushing you further into the cotton of your bed. you let out a strained laugh, knowing that you’ve driven him so far over the edge that you’ve lost a game you usually won. 

“i guess someone doesn’t like to lose,” you laugh into the air around you, listening to the sound of a belt hitting your floor. you were still mildly amused with your torso being fully clothes, but there was something about that that differentiated him from other guys you’ve hooked up with. 

this man didn’t have the greed you were familiar with. 

“i’m fine with losing,” he leans forward and announces into your ear. “but i couldn’t pass up on hearing you beg.”

you huff with pleasant surprise as he peels himself away from your back. 

he pushes into you without warning, and you let out the tightest, most strained moan you’ve ever heard yourself make. he doesn’t give you time to adjust, immediately ramming himself into you like there was no tomorrow. 

the impact was slamming your left cheek into the mattress, and saliva had begun escaping out from the corner of your lips that were ajar. 

there was a smile on your face, and with every thrust you let out a mixture of laughs and moans. you feel the flesh on your rear being squeezed like fruit, and you could feel him going deeper and deeper with every subsequent thrust. 

you feel a knot start to form in your stomach, and the laughter slowly turned into low groans and curses as you struggle to look behind you. 

he glares at you through his sweaty fringe, and almost like he could read your face and the lewd noises you were making, he stops and pulls out. 

“what the fuck--” you hiss angrily into the bed. your thighs were shivering from the rampant fucking, and you were physically worn out to some extent. the knot in your core had disappeared, but you’ve never felt so dissatisfied in your life. 

you hear him give a low chuckle, his arms sliding under you and flipping you around again so you were on your back this time. he wraps his lengthy fingers around your ankles and yanks you to the edge of the bed. you struggle a little, wanting to kick him in the face, but the strength he was investing into holding your ankles makes you look like a fragile little nothing. 

he wraps your legs around his waist and leans forward, pressing his palms flat into the cotton around your head, eyes digging into yours. 

you were pissed that he didn’t let you come, but then you remind yourself that he’s not like anybody you’ve ever slept with. your top and bra were still on, and though he looks like he could snap any moment, he’s got perfect control over what he wanted to do. 

he drags a finger down your cheek and traces along your jaw and chin, brushing your lower lip as he closes the gap between your faces.

“i want to hear you beg, love.” 

your eyes were so dangerously near his, and the close proximity surprisingly makes you a little anxious. 

you contemplate for a moment, wondering just how much he was willing to do just to get what he wanted. so, you held back your need to reach your climax and invite him to test his limits. 

“make me.”

he smirks at you, eyes filling with nothing but lust as he abruptly slams into you. your head gets thrown back, and your fingers grip onto the blanket and bed sheet tightly as he starts mindlessly fucking you again. he finally pushes your sheer top up to your neck and literally tears your bra off.

the combination of his tongue playing with one nipple, one hand kneading your other breast and the consistent, violent slams he was making into you was sending you into a place you’ve never been before. 

your mind starts to flash white as the knot returns to your stomach. curses start to leave your lips again and you could almost immediately feel him slow down. your mind says ‘hold it together’ but your body has admitted defeat to his control over himself.

“fuck, don’t stop.”

but it’s almost like he didn’t hear you. 

the thrusts slow down and the magic spot he was hitting inside you was slowly seeping away. 

tears were gathering in the corners of your eyes by the time the knowledge of what he wanted sinks in. 

“oh-- for fucks’ sake, please don’t stop!” 

he pulls away from your breast and starts sucking on your bottom lip, his pace picking up again and now that he was nearly pressed fully against you, every thrust felt deeper than before, if it was even possible. all the moans and mewls you were letting out were getting lost in his mouth.

his thumb finds your sensitive spot above the spot where the two of you were joined, and the pressure sends you into a frenzy you haven’t felt in a long time.

the knot returns for the third time tonight, and he releases your lips to suck on your neck. when the curses start to run off your tongue, the pleads begin pouring out as well. you could feel him smile into your neck as his thrusts get harder and faster; something you didn’t think he was capable of.

the violent fucking was starting to make you see stars, and he just finds the sweet spot on your neck, his thumb still rubbing circles on your core. 

the knot in your abdomen turns into a glass rod, and with one final, sharp thrust, the glass rod shatters and sends periodic spams throughout your entire body. 

the moaning mess you’ve become doesn’t stop him from halting his movements. he lets you ride out your climax while he tries to chase his, and he pulls out to unload himself on your thighs. 

the inappropriate noises were replaced with pants and huffs, and you felt so limp in your own bed, you couldn’t even begin to process the fact that you lost. 

he finds the tissue box in the corner of your room and cleans himself off your skin and off the tip of his slightly flaccid length, turning sideways to present you the veins that ran from his arms to his hands. every muscle on him was so pumped from the session that you couldn’t help but hate yourself for feasting your eyes on him. 

he catches you watching him and raises a smug brow, crushing the tissue in his hand as he smirks at you. 

“see?” he reaches down and picks up his shirt, pulling it over his head the way only hot guys did. “begging wasn’t so hard.”

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

Part 2: Do It For Me

A/N: brb i gotta drink a whole fucking tank of holy water--

[chickensarentcheap]

I Found -Chapter 21

Warnings: nothing really. Mentions of blood and gun violence I guess

Tagging: @valkyrie-of-the-light @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @alievans007

She arrives in Dhaka shortly before ten in the morning and takes a taxi to the hustle and bustle of the downtown market area. Her escape from the Mahajan home had gone much easier than she'd anticipated; the challenging part having to somehow slip from underneath the weight of Tyler's arm in an effort to sneak out of the bed. When he did manage to rest, he was a notoriously light sleeper; awakening at the slightest of noises or the smallest hint of trouble. That morning he'd been resting heavier than normal. On his stomach with his arm draped over her, snoring louder than she'd ever heard him. And her heart had nearly leapt clear out of his chest when he stirred, mumbling incoherently but never awakening.

 From there on out, things had been simple. Catching the overnight guards on a joint coffee break out by the pool; laughing and chatting and paying absolutely no attention to what was going on around them. She'd been able to pinch the keys to the rental off the kitchen counter where her husband had left them the night before, along with an extra loaded Glock revolver he kept store in a lock box on a shelf in the master bedroom closet; freshly cleaned and holding a full magazine. 

 She once again considered telling him; shaking him awake and announcing that she was heading to Dhaka. That if he wanted to come along so be it, but she wasn't going to let him stop her. His resistance would have been legendary, especially now that they knew she was indeed pregnant. And she knew his already overwhelming need to protect her would become even more so.  He saw it in the same way as he did the job; she and Amelia were his priorities and responsibility and failure was simply not  an option.

 So she let him sleep.

 The market is just as she remembers; sights, smells, sounds. The dirty streets and derelict  buildings,  the scent of diesel gas and strong coffee hanging in the air, the chatter and laughter of pedestrians and the blaring of horns and humming of engines. She stands across the street from the hotel that they had stayed at a year ago; run down and in disarray, faded paint and cracked mortar, crumbling balconies with missing railings. She can see the patio that had belonged to them; on the third floor, a heavy wool rung over over the wrought iron balcony railing and two simple plastic patio chairs tipped on their sides. Every morning they'd sit out there. Sipping strong coffee and filling their bellies with whatever Tyler had been able to grab that morning. Sometimes they'd simply people watch and make commentary on what was happening on the street below. Other mornings they'd be painstakingly surveying the crowds and sharing notes on anything and anyone that seemed even remotely suspicious. 

 Most of the time however, they would just engage in small talk. Those little yet entirely eye opening conversations that take place between couples when they're just in the 'getting to know you' stage.  Sure, they had quickly come realize what they both liked and enjoyed in bed, but they still very much needed to see if they clicked outside of a tangled mess of sweaty limbs and rumpled sheets.

 Her feelings are mixed.  It is both enlightening and disheartening to be back in Dhaka, where she'd fallen in love with the man she now called her husband.  Where she'd been made to feel alive again; deserving of love and adoration,  respect and worship.  She had long ago forgotten what it had felt like to be in love; the butterflies in your stomach,  the way your heart began to race when they so as much smiled at you, those jolts of electricity that passed between the two of you every time you touched or kissed.

  She had thought she'd never experience those  again;  she had a failed marriage, an abusive narcissistic ex under her belt, a job that she enjoyed and could not see herself walking away from.  She had no more trust left. No faith. 

 And then she'd walked into that shack in the Australian outback.

 It is bittersweet. The good memories and the horribly bad co-mingling. And she forces herself to walk away, not allowing her emotions to get the better of her. She needed to keep her head on straight. She needed clear thinking and her instincts to steer her through those busy and often violent streets. And she needed to hold onto that overwhelming need to revenge.  To see things through  to the end of the line.  Nik hadn't been able to finish things off a year ago. But she was determined to.

 She grabs a herbal tea in hopes of soothing her queasy stomach; nerves and anticipation not mixing well with ferocious morning sickness. She'd had to take three Dramamine tablets just to make it through the short flight.  She promises herself that when this is all over, she'll go back to the things that helped her get through the first pregnancy: proper diet and sleep, a psychologically healthy way of coping with stress. If she could get through the first one despite all of the angst surrounding her, she could get through anything.

 She wanders the market to kill time. Talking to the vendors and browsing their wares, attempting to drive away any suspicion as to why someone like her would be in a place like that. Especially alone.  She hides her eyes under the brim of a baseball cap but they are always watching.  Casually observing the people around her. Some of the locals watch her intently; perhaps recognizing her face yet unable to place where and how they actually know it. And she gets friendly smiles and pleasant hellos, readily welcomed into the area.

 It is so easy. It always has been. Blending in in order to to garner valuable information had been her specialty when she was still on the job. Able to gain peoples' trust, casually asking all the right questions without seeming overly interested. The people in the market had taken to her. Taken to them. A young, attractive newlywed couple who'd forgone a traditional honeymoon in favour of outreach work. The premise had seemed wild and far fetched when Nik had pitched it. But it had worked.

 A little too well.

 Her cell phone vibrates in the front pocket of her shorts. Another frantic and downright furious text message sent on Tyler's behalf. He's been calling and texting non stop since he'd woken up and found out that not only she was missing, but also the keys to the rental and one of his weapons.  He's worried. Pissed off. The texts a and voicemails a mixture of of him worrying about if she's okay and demanding to know where she is, and angry please for her to just call him back.  She feels guilty as she stands there, staring down at the last message he'd sent.  Knowing the rage that he must be in; anger and worry are powerful combination. And her fingers linger on the screen, attempting to come up with a suitable reply. She should at least tell him that she's okay. That she'll be home by night fall and he doesn't need to worry. But when the phone rings in her and his cell number pops up on the screen, she hesitates. Thumb over the green talk icon.

 She opts to send it to voicemail instead.

 ***

 He knew something was wrong the moment he awoke. Torn from an unusually deep and peaceful sleep by the baby's shrill, incessant crying and one of the maids pounding on the door and  asking if everything was okay.  He hadn't had a sound sleep like that in years; his senses and instincts always running on high.

 Esme would never leave the baby to cry; believing that you could never spoil a child, especially an infant, with too much attention and cuddles. So when he'd bolted up in bed and saw that her place beside him was empty, he lost it. A combination of rage and worry driving him through the roof. Attempting to stay calm for his daughter that so desperately needed him and failing miserably; relinquishing all care to the now visibly frazzled nanny. 

 His brain immediately switches to auto pilot; propelling him through the room, searching  for clues as to where she's wandered off to. Her purse is missing. The pyjamas she'd worn to bed discarded in the hamper in the en-suite bathroom. And then he sees it: the closet door ajar.  He knows. He just knows. Storming across the room and throwing the door open and grabbing the lock box on the shelf.

 It's empty. The lock picked.

 His first reaction is absolute rage. At her, at the guards for completely fucking up and being so oblivious to what was going around them that they didn't even her sneak out. How does someone get away that fast? Stealing both a gun and a car without anyone noticing? And he's pissed that she won't return any of his calls or texts. Rage and frustration growing with each passing second.

 Worry comes next. That maybe the first anniversary of his near death experience has pushed her over the edge. And it's then that he begins to slowly piece if all together: the freak out that she'd had back home when she'd seen Farhad's picture. Her incessant, almost obsessive need for revenge. How she'd talked about wanting to go back to the bridge. The one place she felt as if she could finally let go of the past and move on.

 He calls the one person he knows can help.

 “Where the fuck is my wife, Nik?” he doesn't even give her a chance to say hello of give her trademark 'talk to me'.

 “Your wife? What are you talking about? What...?”

 “I woke up  and she was gone. You were worried that I'd be the one taking off? My wife is missing, Nik. She's gone. And she stole my gun and my car and I have no fucking clue where she is.”

 Silence from the other end.

 “Don't even try and bullshit me, Nik. I know that you know. There's no way she thought of this all on her own and the only other person she trusts other than me, is you. Where is she?”

 “I honestly never thought it would come to this,” she admits. “I thought she'd just move on. Let it go.”

 “What are you talking about? What...?”

 “She wanted me to find the kid that shot you. Farhad. She wanted me to track him down and arrange a meeting with him. At first I went along with it...”

 “What the fuck, Nik...” he closes his eyes and releasing a long, shaky sigh.  “Why? Why the hell would you agree to that?”

 “I changed my mind. I started dragging my heels. Making excuses. Hoping she'd just let it go.”

 “Well obviously she hasn't.  And she's obviously got someone else helping her.”

 “I think it's Jason. He asked for some personal time. I became suspicious and had Yaz track his cell . It says he's somewhere in Bangladesh. We have no idea of his exact location.”

 There's the rage again. Accompanied by so much more. Worry. Frustration. The burn of bile in his throat.

 “Tyler?”

 “I need to you to get me a flight to Dhaka. Right now.”

 “Tyler, I don't think...”

 “I don't give a shit what you think. I don't care what strings you have to pull or how many asses you have to kiss. Get me a flight.”

 “I need a little time. I...”

 'Now Nik,” he orders, and disconnects the call.

 ****

 “Hey, I remember you!” a cheerful voice calls from across the street. “The wife!”

 Esme is surprised to see him after all this time, still tucked away on a small side street away from the hustle and bustle of the main market.  The vendor that that sold Tyler the bracelet that she'd wandered away to admire. A simple piece of jewellery becoming the catalyst for so much more.

 “I'm surprised you even remember me,” she says. “What with wearing a hat and all.”

 “I never forget a pretty face. Or such a sweet smile. It's been a long time, friend.”

 “A whole year,” she confirms, returning the hug that he offers.  “You've been well?”

 “I have. Things have been busy, busy. You still have the bracelet?”  he nods down at her left wrist,  a prideful smile spreading from ear to ear. “Looks as good as new!”

 “The clasp broke  and my husband fixed it for me.”

 “Ahhh...the husband...nice guy..very tall...very strong...where is he? He here?”

 “Off doing his own thing,” she lies, and immediately feels guilty for it. “We have a baby now. A little girl. Amelia,” she produces her cell phone from the pocket on her shorts, once again ignoring the dozens of text messages that she's received in the past ten minutes alone. Instead, she brings up a photo on the phone and holds it out to out to him. Their first ever family picture; Amelia a mere ten days old, in her father's arm in a white eyelet sundress,  the three of them sitting in the sand.  Barefoot. Tanned. Smiling.

  It seems like a lifetime ago.

 “She's beautiful!” he gushes. “Like her mother. But definitely looks like her father. How have you been? Good? Everyone is fine? You just disappeared last year. Out of thin air. I just stopped seeing you one day. We had some trouble here. Right after you left. Between those drug people that we talked about last time you were here. And some white fellow.  There was a big shoot out out on the Sultana Kamal Bridge. Did you hear about it?”

 “I heard a few things,” she says. Not feeling the need to tell him that she'd been right in the damn middle of it. “Do you still have your ear to the ground? Is there anything new going on?”

 “Trouble,” he throws up his hands in exasperation. “Always trouble.”

 She browses his various items as she speaks. “What kind?”

 “Some white fellow is in town. Not your white fellow, though. He's been asking a lot of questions. Wanting to know about one of the street kids.”

 Jason.

 “I thought maybe he was here to cause trouble. Or take the kid away. But they already seemed to know each other. Like they weren't strangers when they met.  They were on a first name basis.”

 She arches an eyebrow. “Are you sure? You don't think this white guy was just playing nice to get something he wanted?”

 “Perhaps. But it didn't seem that way. I'm very good at reading people. And I could read him well. They knew each other. No doubt in my mind. Very casual when they spoke. Not angry. Or in a hurry. Just like old friends.”

 Her stomach clenches. And she has to  force the vomit down.

 “Why you ask?”

 She manages a smile. “Just curious. Is there anything else? Did you see anything? Hear what they were talking about?”

 “Just that they left together. Yesterday. From the hotel up the street. The one you stayed at last year. I never saw them again. You know them?”

 “The white fellow is a colleague of mine. Or at least I thought he was.”

 She selects a child's size bracelet for the baby and produces her wallet from her bag; removing  two twenties and holding them out in offering. Too much money for the jewellery, yet not enough for the information he'd given her.

  That was invaluable. 

 “Thank you,” she says, as she drops the wallet and bracelet into her bag. “I honestly can't thank you enough. I have to go. There's some things I need to do.”

 “It was nice seeing you!” he calls after her. “Tell your husband to stop by. Nice guy he is!”

 Esme gives a small wave in farewell, then disappears into the crowd.

 ****

 The hotel manager gives her an extra key with little more than twenty bucks and a brief description of who she is looking for.  And she waits outside of the door, straining her ears for any kind of life inside.  The creak of footsteps on the rickety, bowed floor,  the sound of the shower running through this ancient pipes.

 Silence.

 She lets herself into the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. In case a quick getaway is needed and there's no fumbling with knobs and hinges. The room is tiny; much smaller than the one that she and Tyler had shared a year ago in this very building. Sunlight streams through the window, highlighting the particles of dust that hang and float in the air. Like the rest of the hotel's rooms and the building itself, it is a complete dive:  the hardwood floors scuffed and decaying, various stains marring the walls, water marks on the once white stucco ceiling; crude patches of plaster covering where work had been done to fix a leak. 

 Like the room she'd stayed in, the linens on the bed are fresh and new. A crisp white that makes the damage and filth around it even more noticeable.

 She snoops. Going through cupboards in the tiny kitchenette. Rummaging through silverware drawers, cupboards full of chipped mugs and plates. Not knowing exactly what is she's looking for, but letting her logic and instincts guide her; the old aspects of the job quickly returning and filling her with much needed confidence and courage.  There's a coffee cup in the sink; water and soon to dissolved dish soap filling it to the brim, a sponge floating in the midst.  

 He's been gone a while.

 She moves into the combined bedroom and living area next. Leafing through pamphlets, two days worth of newspapers, and discarded sheets of writing paper. Still nothing.  Placing her hands on her hips she takes a step back to get a look at the room. It is surprisingly tidy considering the actual state of the building. The patio door has been left open a crack; allowing the dirt and debris from the busy street below to trickle into the room.  The air is hot and heavy. Suffocating. And the sweat has already begun to gather at her hairline and across her brow.

 The bed is made, sheets pulled tight, and she moves towards it. Pausing long enough to pull open the drawers on the nightstand. Empty.  Frowning, she moves along. Running her hand along the top of the sheet in hopes of feeling something hidden underneath them. Then drops to her knees and slides her hand in between the mattress and the box spring; blindly feeling her way along the smooth surface until her fingers come in contact with something smooth.

 It's a file folder. Brand new. The colour still fresh and vibrant, the corners unbent and still sharp.  And she perches herself on the edge of the bed, preparing herself for what she may find inside. It could be nothing; just some paperwork that included sensitive information and names that preying eyes weren't privy too. 

 Photographs.  Some black in white.  Others in colour.  The bile rises in her throat once again and the nausea kicks into high gear.  Her heart pounds within her chest; hands shaking, the sweat trickling down now. 

 Tyler. Her. Their baby. Dating as far back to his release from the hospital, when Esme was still pregnant and they'd been struggling to keep things together but were optimistic about the future.  One of the moment they were leaving the medical facility with their three day old infant. There's more. So many more.  Outside of their apartment, on the street, at the beach. Snapshots of private and personal moments. Where they're smiling and laughing and completely oblivious to the fact someone was watching them.

 Her cell phone rings and she nearly jumps clear out of her skin.

 Nik.

 She would have just let it go to voicemail. Ignoring it and the text messages that would start pouring in. But she needs to tell someone. Anyone.

 “Where the hell are you?” Nik hisses, before Esme even has a chance to offer a greeting.

 “I'm in Dhaka.”

 “What is wrong with you? All hell is breaking loose.  Why would you do this? I told you to just drop it. To let it go.”

 “You said you would help me.  Where are you, Nik? Why didn't you follow through? You promised you'd help.”

 “I was hoping you'd change your mind. This is insane. You're insane. What...?”

 “I'm in Jason's room,” she announces.

 “Excuse me? What? What the hell are you doing in there? Are you...?”

 “No. I'm not having an affair. It's not what you think.  I sent Jason to Dhaka. To find out more about that kid Fahrad. Only he already knows him. He's in on it, Nik. All the bullshit that's been happening to Ovi. All the threats, all the letters, all the dead animals. He's involved in it. Somehow.”

 “You're crazy. I'm sending Yaz to come and get you and Tyler.”

 “Tyler? What...?”

 “He left for Dhaka four hours ago. He's freaking out, Esme. He's pissed and he's worried and he's on his way to you. I had to tell him. I had to.  He's your husband. The father of your child. He loves you. And he has a right to know what the hell is going on and if you're okay.”

 “There's pictures,” she says. “A whole folder of them. Of Tyler and I. And of the baby. Taken back in Australia.  As far back as when he was still in the hospital.”

 “What are you talking about? Esme...did you break into his hotel room? What the hell are you doing? You need to get out of there. Before he comes back. Just get the hell out of there and don't look back.”

 “I've gotta go, Nik.”

 “Esme, listen to me. Just get out of there and go somewhere safe. In public. Tell Tyler where you are and he'll find you.  Don't make this any worse than it has to be.”

 “I've got to,” she insists, and disconnecting the call, drops both her cell and the folder into her bag. 

 ****

 She returns the key and gives the manager another ten for his troubles. He's grateful; business has been slow and the owner is two weeks late with his pay.

 “Did you find everything you were looking for?” he curiously inquires, and she smiles and slips her sunglasses onto her face.

 “More than I expected to.”

 Her stomach churns. The sweat comes in rivers. Yet she violently shivers as she steps out onto the busy street. Head down to avoid any unnecessary eye contact. Keeping a casual pace, wanting to avoid drawing any suspicious towards her.

 She's half a block from the main part of the market when it happens. A hand roughly snatching her by the top of the arm and yanking her into the alley. A second hand coming down over her mouth to stifle the startled yelp.  Someone big and strong using their power to pin her up against the brick wall.

 “Don't fucking bite me.”

 The voice is low. Savage almost.  Accompanied by furious blue eyes. And instead of sinking her teeth into the flesh of his palm, she shakes her head vigorously to get him to release his grip.

 “Tyler, what the hell?! You scared the shit out me!”

 “I scared the shit out of you? That's fucking rich. What the hell are you doing here? I wake up and you're gone and I find out you're here? In Dhaka? What the fuck?”

 “I told you I needed to come back here,” she feebly attempts an explanation. He's too livid; nothing will get through to him when he's in this kind of state.  “I told you and you refused to listen.”

 “Because I thought it was fucking insane. But if you'd just asked me to come with you, I would have. You know that. What the fuck, Esme? Why were you in the hotel?”

 “You've been following me?”

 “Since the market. Since you talked to that vendor from last year. He's the one who told me you were looking for some colleague of yours.”

 “I broke into Jason's room,” she admits.

 “What the...”

 “He isn't who he says he is, Tyler. He isn't who anyone thinks he is. He even fooled Nik.”

 He frowns. “What are you talking about?”

 “He's one of them. One of Asif's people. And I know this sounds insane and I would probably think so too if I just hadn't gone through quite possibly the most messed up year in my entire life.”

 “Considering the shit I've seen and done, nothing is crazy any more.”

 “The vendor told me that he saw Jason and that Fahrad kid together. Which would make sense at first because I'm the one who told him to come here and track him down. But he said they acted as if they knew each other. And that they left together. So I decided to go to the hotel and...”

 “Commit break and enter,” he finishes for her.

 “Well technically it wasn't B and E because I had a key. But  I found these...” she reaches into her bag and pulls out the file folder.  “Pictures. Of us. Of Millie. Going back to when you were still in the hospital. This is fucked, Tyler. He's fucked.”

 He takes the folder from her and flips through it. She sees the way his jaw clenches and the way the vein in his throat begins to throb, making that thick, jagged scar even more noticeable. Those blue eyes growing darker with each photo.

 “What are we going to do?” she asks.

 “We're going to the bridge,” he tucks the folder back into her bag. “We're going to give him what he wants.”

 “Tyler...no...we can't...you can't.”

 “Do you trust me? I need you to trust me.”

 She nods. “With my life.”

 He takes hold of her hand, pulling her out onto the sidewalk. “Let's go.”

 ****

 “I've done all that I can,” Nik announces.  “Pulled every string and called in every favour I could. I can have the bridge closed for twenty minutes. That's it.”

 “I won't need that long,” Tyler informs her, cell phone pressed to his ear as he and Esme sit in a stolen car on the west side of the bridge. It's all coming together now: alarmingly vivid recollections of the last time he'd been there.

  The sights and the sounds; boots crunching against pavement as he stepped over the sea of bodies that Saju had already collected on his own.  The rapid pops of gunfire further down the bridge, terrified bystanders fleeing from the area, the moans of those that lay dying in the roadway.  He'd already been injured; shrapnel from bullets, shards of glass embedded in his skin, combining with the wounds that he'd suffered the day before.  Shoulder in agony; every movement causing pain like a white hot poker to shoot from the nape of his neck to the tips of his fingers. He'd been vaguely aware of the fact he was bleeding; remembering the way it softly trickled down the left side of his face and both arms.  He was weary; panting and out of breath.

 But he kept going.  With each bullet he fired and each life he took, he counted down the steps...the seconds...until freedom.  Until he'd see her again. Thinking of the plans they'd made while tangled up in bed, naked and sweaty bodies pressed up against one another. His fingers tangled in her hair and her head resting on his chest, their voices sleepy as they talked about all the things they would do as they got to know each other in all the ways that didn't involve. Not that the sex wasn't going. It was incredible. But there'd been so much more to discover about one another and he'd been looking forward to it. They'd travel; that was their final decision. Taking some of the money they'd be paid and taking nothing more than their passports and a few change of clothes and just seeing where they'd end up.  Colorado was first on the list.  He wanted to see the mountains.  Where she lived. Maybe even meet her family. 

 And that..along with seeing Ovi's safe return home...had been what had kept him going. Despite the blood and the pain and the mounting injuries. The thought that someone was waiting for him on the other side of that bridge.

 “Don't kill him,” Nik implores.

 “I will if I have to.”  He is expecting to have to make the decision. Whether to take the younger man's life or just beating him within inches of his demise and then letting him live. 

 “If you can find cover afterwards, I'll send Yaz to get you. An hour. Two at the most.”

 “We'll manage,” he says.

 “Be careful, Tyler. I know you're angry. I know you want revenge.”

 He's not sure if she means against Jason or the kid who'd nearly taken his life.  He choose the former.  “He put my wife in danger, Nik. Who knows what he was going to do to her once he got a hold of her. It wouldn't have been good. You and I both know that.”

 “You don't know how many other people are involved in this. He can't be working alone.  It's too much work for just one person. Don't let your guard down. Make sure you come back in one piece. Both of you.”

 He disconnects the call and slips his phone into the pocket on the leg of his cargo pants. Reaching for Esme's bag that sits at her feet, he takes out the Glock; removing the magazine and one in the chamber.

 “Are you sure this is going to work?” she nervously inquires.

 “It'll work,” he assures her, and drops the gun back into the satchel before placing it in her lap.

 “I wasn't going to kill him, you know. That kid. Scare him. But not kill him.”

 He wants to believe her. But he knows the power of revenge. How loving something and someone so much can cloud your judgment. There was a time where he wanted what she did:  Farhad lying cold and dead in the street. But with the physical healing came some mental repair as well.  Revenge only dragged you down. Hardened you. Made you just as bad as the person who caused your harm.  You'd never be able to fully go on with your life and enjoy your future with that kind of baggage weighing you down.

 “I'm sorry,”  she's staring out the window as she talks; voice low, eyes glassy. No doubt filled with her own memories of the last time they'd been there. “I know you're pissed.”

He snorts. “You think just a little bit?”

 “I know this isn't where you want to be.  In Dhaka. Back on this bridge.”

 “You really think that that's what I'm upset about? That I had to come back here?” he shakes his head incredulously, and placing his elbow on the window ledge, places the side of his head in his palm and closes his eyes. His head feels as if will explode. So many emotions. All of them too powerful and all consuming. And the memories...come back with the force of a tsunami. “How can you know so well one minute and then know fuck all the next?”

 She shifts uncomfortably beside him, knee brushing up against his,  her hands nervously twisting at the strap on her bag.

 He cracks open an eye and casts a sidelong glance at her. This woman that he was wildly and crazily head over heels for. Who had walked into his life and filled the enormous hole inside of him in the way no amount of drugs, pills, and self loathing could ever do.  Who had so willingly and unselfishly given up her life in order to improve his.  Who'd give him a child. Two now, if you considered the one currently growing inside of her.  He lays a hand on her thigh; stilling the anxious twitches. Then closes his eyes once more.

 “That's not why I'm pissed,” he says. “I'm not pissed I had to come here. I'm pissed that you did what you did. You were the one that was worried about me sneaking off. I never thought you'd be the one doing it. All you had to do was tell me. I would have given you a hard time about it, but I would have come here with you. But you didn't give me that chance, did you.”

 “I thought it would easier just to do it on my own,” she confesses. “I didn't want to put this on you.”

 “You're not putting anything on me. The second we put rings on each other's fingers, we said we'd bear the weight of each other's burdens.  That we wouldn't have to deal with things alone. And the fact you just went ahead and left...”

 “I'm sorry,”  he can hear the tears in her voice. Can see the image in his head: those dark eyes filling to the brim, the way her lower lip always trembles. Even when she's crying she's beautiful.

 “And you just didn't leave me. You left the baby.  My  baby. And she needs her mother. What if you'd never come home? She'd spent the rest of her life wondering about you and I'd spent the rest of my life trying to make sure she never forgets you. And what about the other baby? The one that's inside of right now.  Did you even stop to think about them? What could have happened? Not just to you but that baby too? You didn't make these kids on your own. They're mine too. You're not the only one that loves them and would die for them.”

 “I know...” her voice cracks, and he can feel her hand as it settles on top of his.  And he laces their fingers together, squeezing tightly.  “I know you hate right now.”

 “I could never hate you. Ever. There's times where you piss me off and I don't like you very much. But I could never hate you. I love you too much. With everything I am. With everything I have.”

 She raises their hands to her lips and presses a kiss to the inside of his wrist. “I love you. I don't think you'll ever realize how much. And I am sorry. I didn't do this to hurt you. Or make you mad. I did it so that I could finally move on. Because it's been so hard...so fucking hard.”

 She cries in earnest now, and he opens his eyes and reaches across the car; a hand on the back of her head as he pulls her into him. Her face tucking into the hallow of his throat. His face in her hair as he takes in the scent in that lingers on those dark tresses.

 “It's time to go,” he says, and presses a kiss to her temple.

 “Tell me it's going to be okay.”

 “It's going to be okay,” he promises, and places a kiss to her forehead.  “Trust me.”

 “I do,” she assures him and then gives her bravest smile as she pushes his hair off his forehead. “I'd sort of miss you if you weren't around.”

 “I'd sort of miss you too. Even if you do  do stupid shit sometimes.”

 She kisses him. Her lips soft and warm against his.  Then pulls away and opening the car door, slings her bag over her shoulder and steps out.

 All he can do is sit there and watch her walk away.

[sweetsameli]

Chapter three: It Is Not My Place to Judge

After getting dressed, I slowly head to the galley; hoping to find it empty. Luckily, it was. I start searching for something to eat, finding the cabinets filled with a variety of food. I’m unsure of what I can take so I just grab a ration bar and sit down at the table, starting to eat it. I feel... unsettled. I’ve never had a vision turn into a dream, or make me fall asleep during meditation for that matter. I let my head hang, a little in embarrassed. Darryl must have come to see if I was alright and found me asleep on the ground, unless I slept walk to the bed. I bring my head up and rest it against my hand, staring at the ration bar. Which, I kind of doubt since I was in the middle of a vision/dream thing. A smile comes to my lips. How thoughtful of him.

“Whatchya smiling for?” I hear Darryl’s voice come through my train of thought. I turn my head to see him walking in. His face is covered in grease, kind of defining his very sharp, square jawline and I also notice his chin has a small dimple in it. He isn’t wearing his jacket so his tunic is also covered in grease, and revealing some of his bare chest. He wipes his hands with a rag.  

“Oh, um nothing. Just thinking of some good memories from my time at the temple.” I hastily lie. Ugh. He gives me a disbelieving look but doesn’t pursue to question it.  

“Hmm. Alright. Well, I’m working on your ship to pass the time till we get to Lothal. I could use a pair of hands?” He goes to the big chill box and pulls out some sort of drink, coming back over to the table to sit down. I watch him as he does that and contemplate whether I should ask him if he did in fact put me in my bed or should just leave it alone.  

“Um... So... Uh did you put me to bed last night?” the words slip out before I even finished contemplating. Well, dammit. “I uh only ask because I woke up in the bed instead of being on the floor where I was meditating.” He looks at me and takes a sip of his drink.  

“Yeah, I did. I heard some noise from your room. I forgot to have you lock it so it opened up for me when I got to it and there you were, collapsed on the ground. I tried to wake you but you were dead asleep so I thought it would be best if I just put you in the bed.” He says nonchalantly. I nod.

“Ah. Okay, well thank you. That was... very kind of you.” I smile. “What else needs to be fixed on my ship anyways?” He scoffs.  

“Plenty. The nebula really did live up to its name. I don’t even have life support back up yet because the engine keeps breaking somewhere else.” He narrows his eyes at me. “Do you know how to fix ships?”  

“Kind of? I know enough to get systems up and running, but repairing engines and such... not so much.” He nods, taking another sip from the drink.  

“Good. You can start on the systems for your ship then. I’ll keep working on the engines and hyperdrive.” He finishes his drink quickly and gets up. “And then maybe after this, we can start working on my ship.” He teases at me, smiling. He starts walking towards where my ship is and I get up to follow. We pass by a locker and he stops at, opening it up and pulling out some rebreather masks. He hands me one and I take it, putting it on. He puts on one himself and opens the hatch to where my ship is at, stepping inside. I follow after him, it’s a tight fit. I take a look around and the lights seem to be on but it feels...hollow in here.  

“At least the lights work?” I say jokingly, the mask muffling my voice and Darryl doesn’t respond. He is ducking under a bulkhead and going to the back of the ship. I follow him, not really having to duck as much as him. The lights seem to get darker and go to a red color and we finally get to the engine pod area. The engines look like they took a lot more damage than the outer hull took.  

“I can’t actually fit through the duct that leads to the cockpit because the other way is blocked.” He then turns around and looks at me sheepishly.  

“Why do I get the feeling that I was gonna help no matter if I knew how to fix ships or not?” I fold my arms across my chest and lean to the side a little.  

“Ha, you got me.” He rubs the back of his head. “What can I say? Can’t really change my height now.” I only give a grunt in response and crawl up towards the duct. I cast out my sight to see what duct I need to get too. I feel like a kowakian monkey-lizard swinging around to get to the correct duct. I pull myself up into the duct and crawl through it. He’s lucky that he is charming. I hate crawling through tight spaces. I let out an annoyed huff and continue to crawl till I finally reach the cockpit and slide out of the duct, landing on the ground behind the chair. I get up, dusting myself off and turn around to face the panels. They blink at random intervals and I go to the computer near the pilot chair, pulling up a systems report.  

It reads ‘Engine pod 1 and 2 offline. Navicomputer offline. Life-support and environmental controls offline. Shields offline. Comm system offline’ The list continues on and I groan.  

“Why don’t I just sell you then? Be someone else’s problem.” I ridicule the ship. Then sigh and start pulling up the systems I can fix.  

After working for a while, my back starts to ache and I stretch, hearing my spine make some very satisfying pops. I shake my hands to regain some feeling in them and stand up from the kneeling position I got myself into. Tapping on the screen and pulling up the systems report, I read over what is still offline.  

‘Engine pod 2 offline. Navicomputer offline. Shields offline.’ The list goes on for a bit. Ugh, I have only managed to fix life-support, environmental and maybe a few other things but there still a lot more to do. It does look like Darryl was able to get at least one engine pod fixed and I think maybe the hyperdrive. I should go take a break. I pull myself up into the duct and start to crawl back towards the engine pods. Popping my head through I only see Darryl’s legs poking from underneath one of the engine pods, bent at an awkward angle. I smile mischievously. I should scare him. I grab the bar ahead of me and pull out of the duct slowly, landing silently on the ground. Prowling towards him, I lean close to the opening where he is poking from.

“Hey whatchya doin!?” I hear him thwack his head against the engine, swearing something in Huttese and I hold back a chuckle. I move aside as he starts to move out from underneath the engine and he is glaring at me with strong intensity. His face is covered in grease, so I can’t tell if he injured but I can tell he wasn’t too pleased with being startled. I give him a flat smile. He shakes his head and stands up.  

“What was that for?” Darryl rubs his face, making the grease smudge around. I snort a little and then clear my throat. “What?”

“Oh, nothing. You just got a little something,” I point to a part of my face to indicate where a smudge mark is at and he tries to wipe at the spot but it just makes a bigger mess. I smile again. “Yeah, okay. You got it.” He gives me a dubious look. “Sorry, I got a little bored. I wanted to see if I could sneak up on you,”

“Hmm. Well, that won’t happen again.” He gives me a studied look. “Oh, and you’ve got something here.” He points to my face, near my cheek and I touch there, trying to rub at it then looking at my hand. Nothing has rubbed off onto my hand and he just smiles. “Here, let me get it for you.” He tries to rub my face with his hand and I just jump back, yelping a little. He laughs at me and I sigh annoyed. Damn, he almost got me. How dare he try to turn around use my trick on me. I look away and feel something fall off my head. His laughter stops and there is just silence between us. “Whoa.” He finally speaks up.

“What?” I say, slightly startled by the break in silence.  

“Your hair...” I blush now, realizing that my cloth hood fell off. I reach up to touch my hair, making sure it wasn’t wild or something but it only felt coarse and slightly greasy. I cringe. Ugh, I need to use the refresher.  

“I’m sorry, I probably smell huh?” I kneel down, grabbing my hood and standing back up.  

“No, it’s just that... It’s nice.” He smiles softly. “Is that natural or dyed orange? And is the violet also dyed?” I feel a bit self-conscious.

“Oh, uh no. All of it is natural. It’s a rare trait among my people.... My parents told me I got it from my great-great grandpa. He, too, was a... Strong force user. It’s why I was sent to the Jedi temple actually.” He nods and reaches over hesitantly, undoing the tie that holds my hair back into a braid and my hair slowly twirls’ out and he tilts his head to the side. I try to read his emotions but they feel blocked or maybe I’m too nervous to sense them.

“You should keep it down. It really compliments your face.” he says in a low, alluring voice. I feel heat rising up to my cheeks and a ping go through my heart. I am at a loss for words when normally in this situation I am the one who acts like this. Well, maybe not so... direct. I smile finally and put the hood back on. My nervousness still there in my stomach.

“Maybe I will keep it down. I’ll... think about it.” I hold out my hand, waiting for the hair tie. Darryl hands it back and looks away, his cheeks look a deeper color.  

“Let’s go take a break.” He starts to head out back towards where my ship is attached to his and I follow behind.  

That’s when I get struck with a feeling of wholeness. An odd feeling, one that I haven’t felt since I left to become a Jedi. It felt... strange but nice. That’s when I realize, the heat in my cheeks hasn’t faded and I shake my head. No passion, no attachments. Remember? I sigh, tilting my head down. Plus, I just met him. Darryl probably doesn’t even think of me like that. I’m a Jedi and he is womanizing, lying, laser brain scoundrel. I grit my teeth together and trudge to my quarters. Before I reach my door though, Darryl grabs my shoulder gently and I look at him; he then lets’ go and smiles at me.

“Just so you know, the refresher is just down there.” He points to a door that is a few feet from the galley and I nod my head.

“Thanks...” He starts to walk towards there. “Wait.” He stops and turns around. “Do you have... an area where I can... possibly train?” He raises an eye brow.  

“Why, planning on staying for a while?”

“Yeah, probably. I mean, it’s going to take a while for us to finish my ship, right?” He nods. “Okay well, I haven’t trained for some time and I could really use the practice.” He smirks, and tilts his head to the side.  

“Well I do have an area where I like to exercise. It should be big enough for you to practice in.” He starts walking towards the cockpit and I follow behind him. He takes a sharp turn before going into the cockpit and walks towards what looks like it was previously a storage room. It is filled with shut down practice drones, different weights scattered on the ground, a mirror covering one side of the room and some practice swords. The room even has a large mat in the middle to practice on. I nod my head slowly.  

“This should do. May I use it?”

“Sure. Go ahead.” He smiles and heads back to where the refresher is at.  

I walk into the room more and take off my hood, placing it near the rack of practice swords. I look at the mirror and stand up straight, looking myself over. My normal blue Jedi robes are charred mostly on the left side, the sleeve almost gone. I frown. I didn’t realize they were this bad. Good thing Darryl gave me that poncho before I went out looking like this... I look at my reflected face and see part of my cloth visor is burnt and pain aches through my chest.  

A memory flashes by, Ly’lis coming up to me after we just finished our Jedi Knight trials and she seems excited. She hugs me and after pulling back from the hug, is holding out a box. I take the box and open it, revealing a red cloth with intricate gold patterns. I smile big at her and hug her again.  

I touch where the cloth is brunt and a sad smile comes to my lips. I’m sorry Ly’lis. I bet if you saw this, you would just get me another... but I would just feel so awful if you had to go and spend more credits on me. I take in a breath and let it out slowly, grabbing a practice sword. I turn around and start to practice my forms.  

About an hour later, I'm in the middle of practicing my second form when I sense Darryl coming to the doorway. I continue and he leans against the frame, watching me. I sense from him a feeling of wonderment. I finish the form and he comes over to me, clapping softly.  

“Very nice. Do you wanna spar with me?” He smirks, smugness overcoming his wonderment from earlier. I look at him and notice he is in different clothes. The clothes seem to be a snug fit on him, the tunic being mid-sleeve and the pants coming up to about mid-calf. The outfit is all black.  

“Can I change first?” I put the practice sword down.

“Oh, I only let that happen on the second date.” He waggles his eyebrows. I get a feeling of lust now and I seductively smile at him.

“You wish this was a date.” Slight shock comes from him but his face doesn’t show. I don’t blame him; shock is an understatement to how I feel. Whelp, that was kind of stupid but it looks like he didn’t mind too much. I start to take off my outfit, wearing similar clothing to Darryl, only the tunic is sleeveless and my pants come up to mid-thigh.  

“Do you always come prepared to train if your clothes are too much?” He asks, tilting his head to the side.

“All Jedi do. ‘Be prepared for anything.’ First rule that was taught to me by my master.” I put the clothes next to my hood and come back to the mat, getting into a fighting stance. “Ready?” He gets into a fighting stance as well; one I slightly recognize. Huh, Reneji use to fight like that... “Do all Chiss use that fighting stance?”

“No. Only special Chiss use this stance.” He says, starting to circle me. I circle with him.  

“What does that mean? ‘Special’ Chiss? Were you part of a cult or something?” He chuckles at my question.

“No.” He throws a punch at me and I dodge, countering with a leg sweep but he jumps over it, bringing his foot down to my head. I roll backwards and jump up. He looks back at me, smirking. “Hmm, very nice counter and dodge.” I smirk.  

“Thanks. Now, what does it mean?” He comes at me, throwing punches again and I block them.  

“If I tell you, will you judge me?” He hastily says. I block the last of his flurry of punches and round house kick toward him. He blocks, grabbing my leg, staring at me intensely.  

“No. It is not my place to judge, especially since it seems like you haven’t judged me yet.” He twitches his lips to almost form a smile and flips me. I land on my butt, he’s about to get on top of me but I roll away just in time. Standing back up, I get into a fighting stance, he follows suit.  

“I use to be a royal guardsman for the Queen of Csilla.” I look at him dumbfounded and he uses that moment to kick me in the stomach. I cover the area, letting out a cough and land on my butt again. “Don’t lose focus,” He holds out a hand to me, “Or your opponent will over-take you.” His smugness is washing over me like a tropical storm. I take his hand and pull him down using the momentum to pull me up. While still holding his hand, I put a foot on his chest to show defeat. I look down at him, smirking.  

“I know.” He then smirks at me. I take my foot off him and back up a little.

“Huh, was not expecting that. I’ll remember that for next time. That is, if there is one.” He bows slightly. “Thanks for the sparring match. It’s nice to fight with an equal opponent.” I bow back to him.

“You’re welcome.” I straighten and look at him. “Is there any reason why you left? Isn’t being the Queens guardsman the best career you can get as a Chiss?” I walk over to my clothes and pick them up. He hasn’t really moved, just staring at the ground. He lets out a steady breath and straightens up.  

“There is but I don’t really want to talk about it at the moment.” He looks at me, and I see something haunting flash across his eyes and I just nod. “Thanks. I’m going to the galley to make some food; would you like me to prepare you anything?” He heads for the door, stopping at the doorway.

“Oh, sure. Just whatever it is you are having.” I say, walking towards him. We walk together into the galley and I break off, heading towards the refresher.  

“Have a good shower.” He winks at me. I purse my lips together and head inside. I can’t tell if he likes me or is just giving me a false sense in order to get into bed with me. I shake my head at that thought and start taking my shower. I let the water just wash over me, I tilt my head down and look at my hands. My left hands looks’ scarred and slightly red. I close it into a fist and a dull pain comes through but I don’t feel anything else. That’s when it hits me. I haven’t had a headache today... I turn my head up and look around. I put my hand out, feeling the flow of the force go through my body and the water starts to slow down. I pull my hand back and smile, the water returning to normal. It felt nice to have the force flow through me again.  

I hadn’t felt it this strong since I first landed on the moon of Yavin 4. It was where I had that dark vision for the first time and I pulled away from it. That gets me thinking... I hadn’t really had a full vision since then either. It was only that one I was having, and I kept running away from it. I bite my lip and realize that... I was rejecting the vision, rejecting the force. No wonder I couldn’t deflect that blaster bolt... I inadvertently cut myself from the force. I shake my head and smack my forehead. Idiot. I grit my teeth, and finish up with my shower.  

I step out and realize I have to put back on my dirty clothes and I cringe. I grab a towel, wrapping myself up and then cast my sight to see outside of the door. I see Darryl still working on the food, seeming focused. I chew on my lips. My bag is in my ship... what is wrong with me? Why didn’t I grab the stupid thing while I was on there? I huff and open the door, quickly walking to the hatch that leads to my ship.  

“Oh good, you’re done. I’m almost done with the food.” Darryl says, I turn around to see if he is facing me but he hasn’t turn around yet.  

“Okay, good. I’ll be right back. I just gotta get something from my ship.” I say quickly.

“To get some clothes, I’m assuming?” heat raises to my cheeks again. Kriff, did he see me? I turn around but he hasn’t moved. “I’m just guessing since your other clothes are, you know, ruined?” I can sense sarcasm implicated in his tone and I let out a sigh.  

“Uh, yeah. I’ll be quick.” I turn around and continue to the ship. Holding the towel close to me, I walk back towards the small cabin near the engines and look inside. My bag sits on the bed where I last left it. I open it up and pull out some clothes; a tunic that is teal, a grey vest to cover, a long black jacket, and a pair of pants that are a stiff light fabric beige colored, that are long. I pull out the boots that are black and very long and groan a little. That little womp rat. Ly’lis... She must’ve switched out my shoes when she was saying goodbye to me. I huff and start to dig through my bag, not finding any other shoes. I let my head drop, accepting defeat and starting to put my clothes on, leaving the hood down from the jacket. It all fits snuggly and I stare at the boots for a bit. I could just go bare foot... Why does she do this to me? Maybe next time I should just double check my bag. I’ve kept my clothes so well clean but no I had to get them all messed up and everything. Wait... there isn’t going to be a next time... It’s fine... Just clothing I'm not use to... I remember when she used to go off planet, she would dress up in fancy or suggestive clothing. Ly’lis never actually did anything with other beings, that was just what she was used to, how she grew up. I smile sadly to myself a little and finally just put the boots on. Then I remember that I never packed an extra pair of cloth visors. I’ll have to see if a shop on Lothal has any.  

I walk back to the galley and see Darryl already eating at the table, the food looking like some master chef made it. I reach the table and sit where a plate is already made up for me.  

“Did you really make this?” I ask, picking up the three-pronged fork and poking at the food. Darryl looks at me, raising an eye brow.  

“I’m not that posh. I know how to cook, and very well thank you.” He says miffed. I turn my head to face him.  

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant... well, you just seem so well off, why make the food when you can just have it already made and just have it rehydrated?” I say. He nods his head.  

“Ah, well I hate that stuff. It tastes... bland. So, I try to keep more... fresher items on board.” He goes back to eating his food. I look back at the food and start to eat it. It tastes... rather good.

“Wow, this is... good.” I smile, taking another bite.  

“Eh, you’ve been eating ration bars. I’m sure anything would taste good to you.” he flatly says.  

“I’m offended that you would think I wouldn’t land on a planet to eat actual food every once in a while.” I teasingly say. He finishes his food and folds his hands underneath his chin.  

“Oh really? Huh, thought you would’ve stayed away from market places and vendor shops in order to ‘stay on your path’?” He smiles teasingly at me. I purse my lips together.  

“Well, maybe sometimes...” He chuckles at me.  

“I’m going to ask you something, and please tell me if I am being too personal.” He looks at me with a gentle look. “How long have you been on this... quest?” I look at him, and then down at my food.  

“You said when you found me it had been about two weeks, right? Well, before that I had been out for about... two months I believe.” I poke at my food now.

“All alone?”

“Yeah...” I rub my forehead a little. “When I left the temple... Not everyone agreed with how I treated the situation. They all thought of me as a...” I bite my lip, remembering the feelings I felt before I left the temple. Thoughts of being a traitor, and a coward came rampaging to me when the others found out that I was leaving the temple instead of choosing a side. I sigh shakily, running my hand through my slightly wet hair. Darryl touches my arm gently and I turn to look at his hand then at him.  

“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me all of it.” I smile a little and then look past him, the memory of seeing Ly’lis, Reneji and Aydgage coming to see me off plays in my mind again. The look that Aydgage gives me at the hanger bay just before I leave also plays in my mind, sensing his longing. My stomach twists in knots and I suddenly don’t feel good anymore. I pull my arm away from Darryl's hand and I put both of my hands into my lap. This is ridiculous. Why am I feeling like this? This isn’t like me... “Hey, are you okay?” Darryl asks, breaking my spiraling pit of darkening thoughts. I shake my head.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry.” I start to get up, grabbing the plate. “Just not feeling good. Thanks for the food.” I go over to the cleaner and put my dish inside.  

“Well I mean that is one way to put that you don’t like the food.” Darryl teases, but I sense he is kind of hurt by it.  

“No, no. I loved the food but... just remembering what happened at the temple before I left...” I look over at him. “Brought up... unsettling feelings.” I take a shaky breath in. “I’m gonna go... meditate for a bit.” I walk to my quarters and this time, lock the door.  

I kneel down and sit on my legs and bow head down. My feelings are in a state of chaotic disaster and I am trying to calm them down. Maybe if I had followed Revan, my feelings would be less out of control. I’d be able to let them be free and express them without feeling like I am not at peace with myself. That I am burdening others and making them feel concern about how I feel. But... at the same time... letting my feelings just go rampant and unchecked could lead to bad decision-making and burden others with a mistake I have made. I rub temples, my hair falling forward. I rub hands down my cheeks, keeping the finger tips on my jaw and tilt my head up to look at the ceiling. I can’t even focus now without thinking that leaving was a bad idea. I let my hands fall all the way to my lap and then I remember Darryl touching my arm. I look back down at the arm he touched and I smile. I remember how I felt earlier and my smile fades away. I put my hands in my lap and try to focus on meditating now.  

I listen to thrum of the engine and hyperdrive, trying to focus again. There is no emotion, there is peace. My emotions start to calm down but I still feel a knot in my stomach. I let out a steady breath. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. I’m trying to clear my mind but Aydgage’s voice echo’s through my head, ‘...and may you come back to me, safely.’ The memory of him about to kiss me but instead kissing my forehead plays through mind over and over again. There is no passion, there is serenity. The fresher memory of Darryl pulling my hair tie out and touching my hair plays in my head, heat coming to my cheeks again. I clear my throat, shaking my head to get rid of the memory. There is no chaos, there is harmony. The message that Master Dauula gave me plays through my head, ‘Master Reneji has fallen... He has fallen at the hands... Aydgage...’ I bite my lip then let go, taking a shaky breath. There is no death, there is the force.  

I feel a little less overwhelmed but I still have the knot in stomach. I concentrate on my feelings I felt when Revan and a lot of the Jedi Masters’ and Knights’ came back from the Mandalorian war. I was only a pawadan at the start of the Mandalorian war and wasn’t allowed to follow. I think about it more and a lot of the younger Jedi Knights are the ones who are wanting to follow Revan. What exactly did they see that makes them want to follow Revan? Was it the power he showed the rest of us when he got back? His new lightsaber which was dark red? The fact that he was able to control his anger while fighting? I keep thinking of more and more possibilities, my mind racing down each path but finding no end. I hear the door chime. I look over at the chronometer and notice that a full night has passed by. I stand up quickly and go over to the door, tapping the button to open it. Darryl is standing there, using one arm to prop himself up against the door, dressed in a different outfit then when I last some him; wearing similar clothing when I first met him but his tunic is black now and he is not wearing his jacket still.  

“Hey...” He softly says, standing straight now. I can hear him think he wants to ask how I am doing, if I am alright but he pushes those thoughts away. “I made some breakfast, would you like some?” I smile slightly.  

“Sure.” He moves out of the way, gesturing his hands to let me go ahead of him and I go to the galley, Darryl following behind. I see that there is some fruit and gridle cakes on the table and I go to sit down. “Wow, shuura and muja fruit... I haven’t had these in years.” I start putting food onto my plate.  

“Years?” Darryl asks as he sits down, perturbed. “I thought that the temple would have stock full of fruits and vegetables?” He starts piling his plate full of food as well.  

“Ehhh... not really. At first, we did, yes.” I start cutting into my food. “As the Mandalorian war went on though, we had to start rationing food at the temple and sending out packages of food to the other Jedi who were fighting in it.” I chuckle to myself a little. “I remember making a package with one of the other pawadan’s, Ly’lis.” I giggle to myself a little. “We had finished packing it but forgot to put the label that it was food and not data pads!” I laugh a little harder. I feel Darryls happiness radiate off of him.

“Did you guys get to it in time?” I look at him, he is smiling, enjoying the story I am telling. I chuckle again.

“No!” I laugh, holding my belly. “Master Dauula came to us later on that week and told us what happened. We got in trouble!” I keep laughing and laughs along.  

“Were you a pawadan as well at the time?” He asks after the laughter dies down. I nod my head.

“Yes, I was.” I start eating my food again.  

“I’m assuming that Master Dauula is the same one from that message that you first watched?” I nod slowly, remembering I have one message left to listen to.  

“Yes. That was him.”

“What was he like?” I purse my lips together and tilt my head to look at him. Wait a minute. Why are we talking about me? I want to know more about him. That’s not fair.

“How about you tell me why you wanted to become a smuggler and I will tell you about Master Dauula?” I challenge him. He stares at me long and hard and sighs.  

“It’s hard to have a staring contest with a Miraluka.” he smiles a little and eats more of his food. I hold back a chuckle, trying to stay my ground.  

“Well, I mean yeah. We don’t exactly have eyes to stare at or with.” I hear him laugh in his throat but he clears it to cover his laughter. “Don’t choke on your food there.” I smile finally, going back to my food.  

“Ask me another time, and maybe I will tell you.” He finishes his food. “Besides, I want to know more about you. It’s not every day I get to talk to a Jedi, a Miraluka Jedi at that.” I turn my head to look at him again.  

“And it’s not every day I get to meet a Chiss smuggler, who was the Queens guardsman.” I take a sharp bite out of the gridle cake, but keeping my face turned towards him. He raises an eye brow.  

“Alright. Fair enough.” He stands up, stretching a little. “But first, we work on your ship. I might tell you something after that. If,” he points to me, “We can get it up and running today.” He winks at me and grabs his plate, taking it to the cleaner. I sigh, slightly annoyed and finish eating.  

“Fine.” I get up as well, grabbing my plate and going over to the cleaner as well.

“And no surprise scares. I managed to get rid of the bruise before it even formed.” He points to his forehead and I visibly bite my lip, smiling at the same time.  

“Damn, okay. I’ll try not to.” I reluctantly say, pouting a little. He pushes my shoulder a little and walks to my ship. I follow behind him. I hear him think of a plan to get me back but then he remembers I can hear his thoughts and he no longer thinks of the plan. We walk up to the hatch and go inside.  

“I’ll finish up the second engine pod and then see if I can bypass the door that is cutting us off from getting into the cockpit easier.” I nod my head and then stop, groaning. And I have to crawl back through those stupid ducts.  

“You get the easy job.” I mumble under my breath and head over to the duct I crawled through last time. I hear Darryl say something but I choose to ignore him and head to the cockpit. I land in the cockpit again and start working on bypassing the systems.  

*                                  *                                     *

I look over at the chronometer and do a double take as I noticed hours have passed by. I rub the back of my neck and look back at the system I was working on. I’m almost finished. I pull up the systems report again and it reports that shields I am working on are still offline. I breath in through my nose and breath out loudly through it. I don’t think I can fix while we are in hyperspace. I’m pretty sure it’s a part that needs be fixed and it can only be accessed through the outside of the ship. I run my hand through my hair. It feels a bit... odd. I’m not use to yet. I put my wrist in front of me and take the tie off, about to put my hair back into a braid. ‘You should keep it down. It really compliments your face...’ I hear Darryl’s voice echo in my head. I swallow a little and I pull my hair back into a ponytail instead. I start to pull myself up into the duct when I see the door open, Darryl standing there with a smug smirk on his face. I let go of the pole I was using to pull myself up and put my hands on my hips.  

“About time you opened the door.” his mouth parts in disbelief and I walk past him, smiling as well. I hear him walk behind me.

“Well, next time you want to fly into nebula, I’ll just leave your ship alone then.” He teases at me, but I continue to smile.

[danetobelieve]

Fangs For The Memories || Ricky and Winston

Really, as far as roommates went, Winston was pretty much as good as one could get. Ricky liked having them around, and they got along well enough, but sometimes it was nice to have the house to himself. Winston had mentioned they were going to spend the night at their parents, so Ricky was enjoying the concept of some home-alone time which meant time he didn’t have to spend in hiding. Rifling through the refrigerator, Ricky decided it was as good a night as any to treat himself to the nice piece of salmon he’d bought the other day, and he was in the process of firing up the stove to sear it when he heard the front door slam open. Several things went through his mind in quick succession; one, that he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and two, that his false teeth were in their case in his nightstand, and not in his mouth which was currently filled with very bright very sharp fangs that were on display for his very human roommate to see. He slammed the refrigerator shut and busied himself in the spice cabinet, keeping his back to Winston, “Oh hey dude…. You’re back early. Everything good?”

Winston was very wet still. After hanging out at their parents they’d been distracted by Pokemon Go and through a weird series of events with Skylar -- a girl they met through chance really -- they had been attacked by a gollum-esque creature and Skylar had revealed a rather sharp looking set of fangs. It was … well it was a lot to take in. Winston was trying to explain what they had seen just hours before, and on autopilot they had driven straight home to change. After all the Cave of Voices wasn’t the ideal place to go and fight weird animal things (which Winston was in the process of convincing themselves that’s what they must be) without getting a little wet. Brushing sand out of their hair, they slipped in the front door and pulled off their coat, hanging it to dry before heading towards the kitchen. “I had a very … weird experience.” Winston frowned gently as they strode into the kitchen. 

Ricky carefully kept his back to Winston, grabbing some spices from the cabinet and mixing them in a small bowl. Without turning he reached over and twisted the volume down on music he was listening to; he knew it was probably louder than was standard for a normal conversation. “A weird experience?” He called over his shoulder, patting the spice mixture into the large salmon filet. There was no easy way to exit the conversation and make his way upstairs to put the most crucial piece of his human disguise back on. He turned over his shoulder to look at Winston and furrowed his brow at their appearance, “why are you wet?” He kept his lips as close together as he could but knew it’d be a hard conversation to follow if he couldn’t read Winston’s lips as they were talking. His hearing wasn’t completely absent on land, but it was bad enough that he usually needed to supplement with lip reading “Didn’t think it was supposed to rain tonight?”

Winston had left a basket of clean laundry in the utility room, slipping in, they began to peel their now damp clothes off of their skinny body, throwing each item of clothing straight into the washing machine and stepping into a fresh, clean pair. “I am getting to why I am wet, but have you ever been to the Cave of Voices beneath the Hanging Rock?” Winston was sure that Ricky wouldn’t have been there, “I was up at mom and dad’s and they were boring so I was playing Pokemon Go and I wandered over there.” They paused as they pulled on a warm pair of joggers and zipped a hoodie snuggly around them, pulling the hood up and slipping their glasses back on before going to take a seat at the breakfast bar. “So I go in search of a Pokemon I want, I end up in this little sea cave, and there’s that girl who helped me at the internship with those hard of hearing kids, Skylar, I’m sure I mentioned her a few months ago.” They weren’t really paying attention to what Ricky was doing, focussed more on explaining their weird day. “But that’s not the weirdest part. There was something in there.”

Ricky stiffened slightly when Winston mentioned the Cave of Voices. As far as he knew it wasn’t the permanent home of anything dangerous but it definitely had enough supernatural visitors that it wasn’t a place humans should be hanging out regularly. “You went to the Cave of Voices for a Pokémon? That place is super dangerous, Win. The tides will drag you out to sea real easy if you’re not careful.” It was Winston’s mention of something else in the cave that really gave Ricky pause however. “what kind of something?” He turned to face his roommate, cupping his chin in such a way where his fingers obscured his mouth. He didn’t think anything had taken up residence in the Cave recently but if something had it was something that was going to have to be addressed sooner rather than later and he didn’t really feel in the mood to have a knock down drag out fight with yet another alghoul. “You want some dinner? I’ve got enough for two here.”

Raising an eyebrow gently, Winston couldn’t help but admit that they wished they had known that before hand. “Now you tell me that it is dangerous?!” Winston replied exasperatedly, “If I’d known about the tides I would never have gone there.” They were too nervous taking risks as it was already. Risk averse might as well be their double barrelled middle name. “But like I was saying, the tide was not the problem, the problem was this something, and what kind of something I couldn’t tell you. Maybe if a bat and orangutan had a baby then it would’ve looked like this, but it also just looked like a jacked Gollum.” Winston wanted to tell Ricky the whole story, to explain about Skylar’s veneers and everything with her mouthful of teeth, but they didn’t feel as if that was really their secret to share. “It came after me and Skylar…” they paused and shrugged, “I’ve called animal control and informed the sergeant at the office.” After all one of the perks of working at the police department was if anything went wrong then they would be able to talk to someone they knew personally. “They said they’d send someone down there to check it out, but I don’t know if they really believed me.” Pausing for a moment, they adjusted their glasses and nodded. “If you’ve got enough, I wouldn’t say no.” 

“Haven’t you lived here your whole life?! You should know that tidal caves are some bad news bears up in this bitch. I’m glad you two made it out okay but that shit coulda gone south if the tides were super strong.” Ricky grabbed a pan from the rack and lit the stove, listening to the click click click of the pilot before the burner caught and the flame whooshed to life. A pat of butter went in the pan as he carefully listened to Winston’s story, mentally trying to catalogue what it might be that was lurking down in the cave. “Did it hurt you guys? Wild……. animals can have all sorts of nasty diseases. We should get you to the hospital if you got bit or scratched.” He knew a lot of the lesser necrophages were disgusting disease vectors, and even a scratch from one of them could lead to a terrible infection. “Well. I believe you. The legends about that place” and the entire town, he thought silently to himself, “put some pretty gnarly shit down in there. I haven’t been in since I was a high schooler,” another convenient lie, “and I don’t plan on going back anytime soon.” Given the description Ricky thought it was probably a ghoul that had attacked them, which made him feel slightly better. Ghouls weren’t that terrible. “Two salmon dinners coming right up then.” 

“Hey,” Winston snapped back, shaking their head indignantly, “I know it was a bad decision, I don’t need you to call me out like that. Besides, I’m just fine at swimming, I’d have managed. I’m more concerned about the fact that Gollum is down there and apparently without the one ring.” Raising their palms, Winston showed Ricky their palms which were still grazed and raw from their fall in the cave. “I have a few bumps and bruises, it really went took it out on Skylar worse, she was in a worse state then me but we both made it out.” Winston was surprised that Ricky accepted their story so easily. “I can’t reconcile it within my own head, it was like something out of a game dude, there’s… there’s …. I just can’t get it straight. I know rationally that this makes no sense. But I saw what I saw.” Not to mention Skylar’s fangs. This town was getting weirder and weirder by the second. Picking at the drawstring  of their waist band, Winston smiled gratefully before taking their glasses and anxiously polishing them. “Thanks, I appreciate this dude.” They knew they must’ve interrupted a quiet night alone, which was a rarity for the both of them. 

“It’s literally your roommates job to call you out when you do dumb shit. It’s like in the roommate handbook. You need a beer to settle your nerves?” Ricky pulled two out of the fridge and popped the tops off, sliding one across the counter without waiting for a reply before turning back to the meal he was cooking. The kitchen was starting to fill with the smell of pungent spices as Ricky thought about his next move. He prided himself on being honest with the people around him; but there were some very specific loopholes to that policy and they all dealt with the supernatural. Which is why he was less than pleased with his choice to gaslight his roommate. “I’m sure Gollum himself wasn’t lurking in the Cave of Voices.” He kept his voice pitched light and breezy, “it’s dark, it’s cramped, and it’s more than a little creepy. The human brain likes to fill in all sorts of blanks with the insane when it’s confronted with something terrifying. You probably just startled some poor forest creature who got stuck in there by the tide. You’re lucky you don’t catch rabies.”

Winston was about to say that they didn’t want a beer, but Ricky put one in their hand anyway and the cold, malty liquid felt good. “Thanks dude, I know it is your job to make sure that I’m not doing anything that could potentially kill me.” Ricky was a good guy. He had done a lot for Winston in the small amount of time that they had been living together. Winston was distracted, otherwise they might have noticed that Ricky was keeping his back to Winston. They might have noticed that they weren’t directly addressing them and they hadn’t seen their teeth yet. But they were kind of preoccupied. “I don’t think it was Gollum either, probably an animal and a bump on the head or something, i know that your brain tries to turn everything into a narrative and the fear probably just y’know, changed my perception.” They had been convinced earlier that whatever it was hadn’t been an animal, but this was the real world. It had to be an animal. There was nothing else that it could be. “I know, I know,” Winston replied glumly, their left thumb picking at the corner of the label on the beer, rolling and unrolling it restlessly, “I just can’t shake the feeling that there was something more to it then a rabid animal.” It wasn’t really their problem. They weren’t a member of animal control.

“Your mother would kill me if I let anything happen to you and frankly I’m convinced that she could do it with little effort on her part.” Ricky plated the salmon and slid one of the plates across the counter to Winston, setting a fork down next to it. “Fear is a powerful thing. But I know deer and badgers and the sort go down there to forage at low tide and then get trapped in the cave. You might have just startled one of them that was already at the end of its rope and its fight or flight response kicked in.” He waved his own fork glibly as he laughed off Winston’s story, trying to put them at ease while pushing them towards believing they hadn’t seen a necrophage and instead had just seen a frightened animal. He realized too late, however, that between taking a bite of his salmon and laughing brightly he’d left his mouth open for far too long, and he no longer had his back to his roommate. He snapped it shut and took a sip of his beer, hoping that Winston has been too distracted by the delicious food to look at him.

Winston didn’t think that their mother would kill Ricky. They were certain that their fate would be far more gruesome then an easy death. “Well don’t worry because I won’t let anything happen to you, and my mother isn’t about to find out about this.” Turning the plate round, Winston scooped up their fork and picked at the slice of salmon that Ricky had cooked for them. Ricky didn’t seem to eat much other then fish and meat, but they knew how to cook it and they did a damn good job. Winston just assumed that Ricky was fussy and out of deference to their friend had elected not to bring the topic up, incase it embarrassed them. “Maybe, but I’ve got to admit that it didn’t look like any sort of deer or badger that I have ever seen before, this looked like a cross between a monkey and a bat.” Winston looked up just in time to see Ricky’s gleaming mouthful of fangs. Wait … fangs? Winston felt their eyes widen and realised that they had caught Ricky’s eye for a moment. A look of shock on their face before they looked at their plate and shovelled a huge mouthful of fish into their mouth. “Mmhmmm this is great fish dude,” they said inbetween bites, doing what they could to avoid admitting to what they had just seen. But they’d seen those very same teeth on Skylar, hours before. What the fuck was going on? 

Given the profound look of shock on their face and the renewed vigor with which they ate and commented on the fish, Ricky knew pretty immediately that the jig was up. “Winston…” he sighed wearily as he set down his fork and took a drink of his beer. “Yeah. I know it’s great fish. I can cook fish like a motherfucker. Because fish and meat are pretty much all I can eat. Listen. I know you saw and you can stop trying to hide that behind food comments and eating. Mostly because at the rate you’re going you’re gonna finish that fish in two bites. So. Yeah. Let’s talk.” He’d really planned on going a lot longer without having this conversation. But. Hopefully Winston’s cool head would prevail “if it makes you feel better… it definitely wasn’t a badger or a deer you saw.”

With a mouthful of fish, Winston looked up at Ricky and let out an uneasy laugh. “Yeah, I know you eat fish and meat, because you’re a giant baby living in a man’s body and you hate your veggies, you’re a fussy eater and you’ve probably got like a gluten intolerance right?!” They let out a high pitched anxious laugh and shoved more fish into their mouth. “But you’re right, really good fish, you did an amazing job, like you always did. HA ha what amazing fish.” They chewed extra slowly on the tiny amount of fish that they had left. “I’m sorry Ricky,” Winston said glancing at their wrist and realising they weren’t wearing a watch, “but I’ve got to dash, my parents are expecting me for dinner and they’ll be upset if I’m late…” they tried to force their heart to slow down, but it wasn’t working. They didn’t have time to focus on something else and just breath. “Anyway, I’ll catch you later.” They were standing and grabbing their rucksack and keys. They would stay at their parents house tonight. They would also be checking to see if they too had a mouthful of sharp teeth. “Thanks again for the fish dude.” 

It became readily apparent to Ricky that this was going to be at least a two part conversation, as Winston gathered their things and started to head towards the door. “Winston.” Ricky called out from where he was sitting picking at his fish, “my….. fussy eating” which seemed to be the terms they were going to couch this in for the moment, “Is a secret for a reason. There are people who would use that as an excuse to hunt me. Literally. So if we could keep this between us for the moment. I’d appreciate it.” He took another swig if beer and glanced down at his phone as Winston headed for the door, “also. It was probably a ghoul. Down in the cave. Sounds like one. Don’t go back there again. It’s not safe til that things been taken care of. Be careful.” All he could do was trust that he and Winston had enough of a bond that his roommate wouldn’t go blabbing to the whole town. 

Winston was pulling their rucksack onto their back and had their hand wrapped around the handle to the front door. “Ricky,” Winston said turning to face him, “Ghouls aren’t real. In the same way that ghosts, vampires, werewolves and magic aren’t real. This isn’t supernatural or the Witcher. None of these things exist in the real world. If they did exist, don’t you think that the internet would’ve spread the word about them? You think that a secret that big could be kept?!” They laughed nervously, suddenly unsure in everything that they had just asserted was the truth. “I won’t tell anyone about your fussy eating,” Winston said sourly, “I know how to keep a secret,” they pulled the front door open and felt a cold breeze roll into their house. “Besides, I’ve always got your back, even if you … are a fussy eater.” With that they were taking a step out of the front door and heading towards their car. They needed answers. They needed time to think and try and wrap their head around this. Ricky had used the words ghoul for fucksake?! 

[alitheamateur]

The Grind- Chapter 27

Warnings: Violence. Language.

I had put it for a week time of vacation from the office beginning three days from fight night. I wanted, more so needed, to spend hours upon hours at Temple Fitness racking up as much ring practice as possible, making time with my parents slim while they visited. I was barely maintaining weight, so lavish dinners were out of the question, and I had no intentions of slacking to attend a game, or other local sights with them, no matter how much I fought myself internally. However, with The Pilot being one less worry for a few days, I could work out early, notching several devoted hours under my belt, then cut out around late afternoon for some family time with Colt and my visiting parents.

Today, despite my steadfast arguments, they came in to observe how my routine played out with training. Tia was available for the day, so the crew and myself decided it’d be best apt for my now crucial preparations to let her play into the role of sparring partner. Stepping in with Colton was better suited for educational, phycological reasons seeing as he was the most seasoned member of my corner roster. But with Tia, a fellow female, things could get more physically involved, and squaring up with her would simulate more relative to the possibilities with my unfamiliar opponent.

“Well, were you surprised when you saw your parents? You had to suspect him doing all that.” Tia spoke while mirroring some of my stretches.

“I was absolutely clueless, T. I’m actually sorta glad they’re here, to be honest.”

“The fucker pestered me all week about ‘making sure I do this’ and ‘don’t forget to say that.’ He was wound tight, I know that.” she rolled her eyes with a puffing exhale.

I was warmed at the realization of how seemingly decent the usual ignitable pair had worked together to execute the planning without a hiccup. But, I strategically kept the sappy gushes inside my own private thoughts, knowing Tia would whine and baulk at the subject. Throughout training, Colton and she kept on their most polite behavior (well, ‘best behavior’ for those two thick-skulled, impetuous individuals, let’s say) and only nearly killed the other once. The tumultuous exchange was something vaguely involving the weight of gloves, and Colton wanting to trim the bout down to only 3 rounds. Cal snarled that the two of them should just have it out in the cage and settle things the only way they knew how, and end the ongoing ‘dick measuring contest’ as he put it, for everyone’s sanity.

“Well thanks, Tia. For helping him out and doing your part. I’m sure he’s grateful.” I assured her lightheartedly, turning back to face her as she followed me under the dipped open ring rope.

“He gave me 50 bucks, and he may’ve even said ‘thank you’ or somethin’. It’s whatever. I did it for you, LC. Not him. So, don’t start with those doe-y eyes.” She spat lightening defenses behind baring teeth.

Tia and I danced our usual relaxed waltz around each other when Willow gave the go-ahead, Colton standing arms crossed on the outside of the ropes, and my parents seated in cushioned stools from the therapists’ office. Riled grunts, and the forceful air whips of efforted swings fell upon listening ears as my partner tested me with slivered eyes. I kept my hands fastened meticulously near my nose to protect it from any unforeseen assaults and ducked quickly to try and take Tia’s legs. With my face now downward turned and arms opened to attack, my skull was only for a fleeting second left unprotected, leaving me to suffer the costs.

The bridge of my nose was met to Tia’s apparently very solid kneecap, and my teeth nearly gnashed my gummy-like tongue in half. A black explosion resembling an abstract firework filled my retinas, and suddenly I got the irresistible urge to nap. Unconsciousness threatened me, but by some luck I only teetered the line and never fully fell into its’ caress. Once the haze cleared and colors were recognizable again, a crimson flow dispersed like melted butter underneath my rested, near lifeless body.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT, TIA?!! FUCK!! Have you lost your damn mind?!” Colton’s stinging shrieks echoed through the entire gym like a wild, murderous banshee.  

He verbally attacked Tia with persevering hysteria, spitting venomous strings of saliva into her detached, cold face. I couldn’t swear to it, but I was pretty certain those thumping veins on both sides of his neck were almost rupturing beneath his flesh. This was the wicked, sinful anguish that he always cautioned me was living inside him, and it had clawed it’s way to the light of day for the world to see.

“She’s gotta be more careful than that, Ritter. I was just trying to make her understand what could happen to her. She needs to understand that Katrina wants to hurt her, she’s gonna be out for blood. It was harsh, but I’m not sorry.” Tia shrugged haphazardly upon her explanation. Her words resonated just enough to piss me off to extreme measures, and make complete, and total sense.

I’m not even sure Colt comprehended her controversial explanation, nor the fact that she was even talking at all, as he hurled his weight in entirety to the ground beside me. He pulled off his t-shirt, doubling it as a rag to soak up some of the blood pool I was gurgling face down in. I sat up without assistance and felt undeniably woozy trying to hold up my head that now felt like the weight of a bowling ball. This instance was the closest I’d ever came to being knocked out, and I tried to process all the strange aftereffects while my fiercely concerned boyfriend gently moved my noggin around by the chin to observe the motion of my eyes.

“Livvy, baby? Hey, look at me, okay. Do you know where ya’ are? What’s my name, sweetheart?” He stroked repetitively on top of my head, clearing the hair from my eyes.

“I’m fine, Colt. Calm down, I don’t even think it’s broken,” I faked a smile hoping to lower the intensity of his brimming adrenaline.

Upon rising onto my own two very unsure feet, I fell dizzily into the wall of Colton’s warm-fleshed chest, and heard a gasping wince come from my perceiving left. Mom was standing at the foot of the ring, resting one hand there to balance her alarmed body, and the other squeezed over her mouth to try and kill the desire to sob. A collision with another player on the court, or the routine ‘floor burn’ to the knees had been common happenings throughout my childhood. But, seeing their flesh and blood, only child being unforgivingly rocked to the face by a bare, violent knee was a sight any parent would struggle with.

“Cal, grab the doc for me, will ya’?” Willow gestured a thumb to the direction of the Temples’ on-staff physician’s office down the hall. “Think we oughta go ahead and have her checked for concussion symptoms.”

“Ah, for fucks sake. Everybody needs to calm the hell down! She’s fine. Just give her a minute to get her bearings. You feel ok, Liv. Right?”

Was she trying to convince me, the other obviously concerned witnesses, or herself? My thoughts may have moved through my head at the speed of hot glue oozing stubbornly from the tip of a gun, but moving, nonetheless. I tried rationalizing with Tia’s abrupt, reckless attack, and the more I searched for some sense on the moment the angrier I grew. My match was one hand count of days away, and she thought reasonable to risk breaking my nose, or giving me an unnecessary concussion? It was irresponsible, thoughtless, and frankly downright asinine. Fury, combined with the pulsating echoes of pain from my throbbing nose, and the effort it took just to try and use simple brain power had me feeling like a smashed bug on the grill of a semi.

“Take me home, Colt. Please… I need a bath, and a bottle of anything to put me out for 36 hours.” I whined, erratically batting my eyelids trying to adjust to the seemingly now high voltage lighting of the room.

Any healing wounds I may have recognized up to this point between Colton and Tia was a very distant memory now. My fearless mate would shred anyone who he may have viewed as even a potential enemy, much less an individual he just witnessed almost knock me needlessly unconscious.

“We gotta have doc check ya’ out, Liv. He can probably get ‘chu somethin’ for the pain, too.” Colton answered softly, continuing his attempts to clean the crusting, web of blood all over my face and crane of my neck. “Then, I promise I’m gonna take you home and put you straight in the tub for a soak in some’a those fizzy things you always buyin’, ‘ight?”

The hurt of my swelling nose was too much of a distraction for me to completely bask in all the ways I knew my loyal man would be coddling me the upcoming days.

 Amidst the doctors’ perpetual astonishment, I passed his exam and questioning with flying colors, and he dismissed me that night with the green light to go about my evening as normal. Thankfully, despite my nose not being in fact broken, he instructed me to ice as much as I could physically stand and prescribed me a gentle painkiller for the soreness and headaches to come. Tia lingered idly in the training room until I packed up for the evening and let my panicked with concern mother hold my hand through the exit. I didn’t so much as bother her with a second look nor give her the satisfaction of a goodbye, still feeling grudgingly nauseous with her very inexistence.

The nose injury came with barely noticeable plum-shaded bruising in the corners of my eyes that covered easily with a thicker application of concealer. The swelling had ceased due to the repetitive regime of icing and anti-inflammatories, so I didn’t have to see the light of day looking like a complete ogre. Weigh-ins were the first excuse I had to force Colton to allow me out of the house after remaining under his watchful, loving eye, and the smothering care of my parents as well. I not dare complain or push aside their gracious concerns for me, so I politely smiled, thanked, and kissed the obvious appropriate party and focused on the fight.

The event of my weigh-in was no where closely related the ones I was used to writing about for work, and probably wouldn’t even be categorized as an event to begin with. There was no hype or advertising buzz floating around the streets for the fight between Kat and myself, so a big to-do with our weight checks seemed definitely unnecessary. Colton suggested a simple meeting at Temple Fitness with a well-respected referee from Pittsburgh, my team, and my opponents the Friday  evening before we were scheduled for a dance in the cage.

My parents arguably agreed to wait back at the house after I reasoned we’d only be gone for a couple hours, give or take. Mom insisted on concocting my favorite pot of always delicious jambalaya for a late dinner after my numbers had been approved for competition. My mouth seeped in anticipation with thoughts of the steaming pot as we made the turn into the gyms’ lot around 7:00 that evening.

“What the hell is she doin’ here, Liv. Did you tell ‘er to come?” Colton scowled and spat seeing Tia’s car parked near the street light in the parking lot. I felt his grip under my fingers stiffen at the mention of her name.

“She’s probably just here working out. Or, Willow mentioned it to her. Either way, just let it be, babe. Please? Let’s just do what we came here to do and get out calmly in one piece. Deal?”

His silence amongst bull like puffing from his nostrils alluded those weren’t exactly his intensions if Tia decided to make herself known tonight. A short-film of the two hotheads beating each other bloody looped in my mind.

“Ritter………” I pressured him sternly, demanding he agree to my terms.

“I hear you, baby. But, I’m tellin’ ya, if she starts that mouthy shit I ain’t promisin’ ya’ I can control myself.”

We parked, and I marched straight for the locker room for one last bathroom break before stepping up to the scales. I felt confident in the discipline I kept with my diet, and my dedicated hours on the weights, but now that the moment had arrived, self-doubt rolled in like a spring thunderstorm. I shed whatever bladder continents I had left, my windbreaker, and the capri sweats I was wearing before heading to join the waiting bodies.

The cranked temperature of the A/C caused me to shudder off a cold-chill as the spandex shorts and sports bra exposed me to the cool air. Amongst Willow, Colt, Cal and regretfully Tia were four unrecognizable faces. Everyone chatted informally, broken into a few swarming huddles except two. The two pouting bodies stood caddy-cornered from the other, wide-stances and hands crossed into their armpits. Tia and Colton were so much alike, and both too blindly obstinate to see it.

I went trembling with nerves to Colton’s side, as Willow quickly hastened to him as well.

“Bex wants us to take the first weigh if that’s alright with you guys?” She asked kindly and professionally. She had played a hugely important role in my fight-preparation, but upon his re-entering to the picture, let Colton somewhat run the show knowing I probably felt most comfortable in his molding hands.

“Up to you, Livvy baby. If you want her to step up first, just say the word and I’ll make it happen.” Colt turned to face me, warming my chilling arms with his enormous heater like hands.

“I mean, I guess it’s alright. I… I don’t mind.” I looked to smile crookedly at the murmuring bodies across the room.

Colton approached who I concluded to be the official he invited as the unbiased party in the matter and shook his hand kindly with a relaxed meeting. The two men nodded their heads with words I couldn’t make out and parted ways with Colton returning to my nervously tapping feet, and the ref stepping to Katrina and her coach.

“’Ight, it’s nothin’ to get all fuckin’ antsy about, baby girl. All you gonna do is step up on the scale, he’ll call out your official weight and we’re all done. Simple as that, okay? You were at 129 or so this mornin’, right? So nothin’ to worry that big ol’ head about.” He gestured with his hands, steadily explaining the cut-and-dry process to come.

My bare feet treaded lightly towards the smile of the friendly man planted next to the upright standing physicians scale. My shoulders tensed and appeared to coil higher into my stiff neck as every set of eyes in the room landed on me. Mimicking what I had seen Colton and many other competitors do, I pushed the airy content from my lungs, and stepped upon the scale one foot at a time. He tapped gently on the pointer, careful to ensure his reading would be accurate before announcing the crucial number.

“Looks like you’re set at 129.5, Miss Elliott. You guys wanna come take a look?” He offered a firsthand sight at the scale with me standing on it for Katrina, wanting no speculation of funny business on fight night. But, she passed the opportunity and instead began shedding any extra clothing weight she could.

“Way to go, LC. Even down at couple pounds since we started this shit. I see you, girl!” Tia was on my heels with empty praise, talking towards the back of my head since I refused to give her the satisfaction of acknowledgment.

Colton stood at attention holding open my jacket and sweats, as Willow gave my shoulders a quick squeeze of support.

“What’s on the post weigh-in menu, Liv. All fighters got that craving while they’re training. Whatcha’ gonna reward yourself with, babe?” She smiled proudly.

“Oh, it’s gonna be somethin’ fulla’ carbs knowing this girl, Willow,” Tia butt in. Willow only looked with a blank, awkward glance, still very much sensing the tension within the Ritter-Elliott-Larkin camp.

“Tia, just fuck off, ‘ight. Liv may be too nice to say it, but we both know I sure as hell ain’t. She don’t wanna talk to ya’, and frankly, I don’t know why the fuck you’re even here.” Colton held off best he could, bless his heart. But her forced comments into our conversation only amped him further to unleash on her.

Tia’s smile turned to a sneer in an unapproving reaction to her once again mortal enemy’s comment, and eyeballed me searching for some sort of back-up, or teammate in the matter. Normally, I’d be the ‘Switzerland’ regarding matters of the heart between she and Colton. But, the desire to defend her right now just simply wasn’t present.

“Willow mentioned it to me. And if Liv doesn’t want me here, I think she’s grown and perfectly capable of telling me that herself. Asshole.”

“I don’t want you here.”

My quick snap admittance looked to hit her like a sack of bricks. The flesh tone of her face heated like the igniting of fiery embers and her nails seemed to pierce the inside of her palms between clenched, wrathful fists.

“I don’t want you here, and I think it’s best of you just stay out of my corner Saturday night, too. Willow and Colt can handle it just fine.”

Truly, I wasn’t as fitful with her as I let on, but for my mental sanity on fight night, I figured it best to just squander any possible altercations between she and Colton now. The two of them intently bickering outside the cage would only distract me, and I’d end up with double the damage that Tia caused. This time, Colton was genuinely lacking fault, so it indeed wouldn’t be fair to shove him from ringside.

“You don’t fuckin’ mean that, LC. This whole thing was my idea to begin with.” she protested with gritty objection.

“Hey Colt, you and your girl wanna come check the scale before she steps down?” The ref interjected.

“Yeah, that’s be great. C’mon, babe.”

I slid into my shoes, and disregarded Tia wholly.

TAGS: @torialeysha @eap1935 @mollybegger-blog @littleluna98

[thatbluegibson]

CH 87

Liz's stomach dropped when Andy walked out of yet another hotel with an annoyed look on his face.

"Nothing?" she asked when he climbed into the backseat with her.

"Nothing. What the fuck is going on in this city that every hotel room is booked?"

"Paris in the fall," their cab driver muttered. "You Americans love it."

Liz sighed heavily and grabbed her bag off the floorboard to find her phone while Andy gave the driver yet another hotel name. She dug around in the dark bag, trying to feel for the hard metal phone when her hand hit the bottle of pills her doctor had given her for the trip home, giving a loud, distinct rattle.

"Hey, Andy? Do you know how to book a private plane?"

*

"Dave, I'm not sure this is a good idea," Jordyn hesitated in the doorway when he opened the door to his suite.

"It's fine, Jordyn," he mumbled, not really believing himself.

To him, Liz would be everywhere. Her coffee cup on the counter, the script she had been reading that afternoon on the table, the necklace she decided against wearing that night on the nightstand, her sunglasses on the foot of the bed... little moments of them together in the room before it all collapsed over yet another misunderstanding.

But when the door clicked closed behind him, he saw that her script was missing from the table, her cup had been replaced on the coffee bar and the couch that they had left askew from the night before had been returned to its proper position. He rushed past Jordyn and into the bedroom, bracing himself on the door frame as he scanned the empty room along with the lit fireplace and candles. Trying to shove away the thought that Liz was making the room romantic for him and another woman, he moved on to the closet where he knew he would get his final answer whether he wanted it or not.

His shirts were hanging alone next to his luggage and the jeans he had left in a heap earlier were folded neatly on the shelf. Against the wall, behind his shirts and hanging on a silver hanger was her dress, the black beaded gown that had been an obstacle for him just the night before and was now a stark reminder that this was all his fault.

The breath completely knocked out of him, he knelt on the carpet and leaned his forehead into the wall. You've completely fucked it now, man, he thought. He and Liz should have been celebrating the last of her birthday and packing for Italy but instead, he got blackout drunk on cheap whiskey and picked a fight over some bullshit that happened long before she even met him. Give me a sign, Lemmy, he prayed to the patron saint of situations like the one he was in. Help me.

"David, oh my god," he heard Jordyn's gasp and felt her hands on his back.

"I'm fine," he muttered, moving to stand and letting her lead him back out to the living room.

She sat on the edge of the couch, her blonde curls contrasted against the dark wood filigree on the backrest and a pensive look on her face. Dave stood frozen, unable to take his eyes off the woodwork. Even though Liz had tried to erase herself from the room, she was still there, especially on that couch.

Jordyn waited until he finally sat next to her and leaned his elbows onto his knees. "She left, didn't she."

He only nodded, worried he would break down if he verbally confirmed it.

"Did I-?"

"No," he stopped her before she could continue and collapsed back into the couch. "You didn't do anything. It was me."

She sat quietly for a moment, then laid back against the couch next to him. "Still get jealous, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess," he sighed and reached for her hand again, just to remember what it felt like. There were so many nights that they collapsed on their couch together at home after an exhausting day of chasing three little girls around the house. She would fall asleep on his shoulder or his lap while he watched a movie or read the news on his tablet and things were about as perfect as they could be... until he went on tour and the boredom hit. "Jordyn?"

"Hmmm?" she hummed, lost her own thoughts.

"I'm sorry I fucked everything up between us."

"I know," she said gently and squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry, too."

He shifted so he could see her, studying her features against the crisp white couch. Their daughters looked so much like her, all angelic blue eyes and pure blonde curly hair, but were all him in the personality department. They were the perfect mix of the two of them and he missed them so goddamn much...

He took a sharp breath as he pushed off the back of the couch and leaned into Jordyn, kissing her hesitantly at first, then harder when she wove her fingers in his hair.

An alarm bell was ringing somewhere in his brain, reminding him that Liz tasted like vanilla, whiskey and black coffee, where Jordyn was cherry, vodka, and mochas. They were the same, but just different enough that it felt wrong. Jordyn was safe, consistent and placid where Liz was a little dangerous, a little wild and a little enigmatic, but they both loved hard and with everything they had and at that moment he didn't feel like he deserved either of them.

His phone began to buzz on the coffee table in front of them and he twitched, wanting to both answer it and continue kissing her, but she gently shoved him off and whispered, "Answer it."

He searched her eyes for a moment, reading the determination and resolve in her stare then snatched up his phone and headed for the bedroom.

"Hey, T."

"Dude, she just talked to Ally. She's on her way to the airport."

Dave sank slowly onto the bed and closed his eyes. "Fuck."

*

Liz lugged her heavy bag up the steps behind Andy and into the plane. She greeted the pilot and attendant, thanking them for coming on such short notice and dropped her bag in the first row of chairs. Andy flopped into the seats on the other side of the aisle and dug out his earbuds, readying himself for the long flight back to the states. Liz grazed her fingers over his shoulder in a silent thanks for getting her through the night and headed towards the back of the plane where she just hoped there was a quiet corner she could curl up and die in.

She passed a little table holding a basket full of food, ignoring that it was full of caviar and dry champagne as Dave had warned her months ago, to the last row where she found a black garment bag carefully laid on the back of a tan leather chair. Pulling the hood of her sweatshirt off her hair, she gingerly sat next to it and eased the zipper down with a shaking hand. The black beaded bodice of her dress twinkled in the cabin lights and Liz choked back a sob, yanking the zipper back up to hide everything that dress meant.

Her mind went blank as the plane's engines roared to life and a single thought drifted forward, he's starting over with her.

[origami-goblin]

Starfinder Theme Focus - Ace Pilots and Bounty Hunters

—-

This week I’m going back to the scene of the crime to revisit the themes in Starfinder and offer some possible avenues down which you can direct your creative character-building energies. In case you’re completely in the dark on this topic, Starfinder introduces the concept of themes that you can use as a small puzzle piece in sculpting your character. In addition to providing some RP definition, each theme will give your character a boost to a specific stat and bonuses at 1st, 6th, 12th, and 18th level. As an aside, Paizo’s choice to have the theme progression remain identical throughout the possible selections helps to limit the min-maxing a bit, by ensuring that players aren’t choosing themes based on whichever ones grant them bonuses the soonest. Of course, the bonuses that each theme provides inherently enable some level of power-gaming, but that is going to be the case with nearly any pen-and-paper PRG. 

Last time, as a part of my deeper dive into themes, I specifically touched on the Icon and listed several examples of character concepts that a player could use when creating a Startfinder character kissed by the Icon theme. The point of the post was to show that themes aren’t meant to limit creativity; they foster it. Just as there’s no wrong way to eat a Reese’s, there are countless interpretations to each theme and the characters that can be molded into existence. Today, I’ll be firing up my brain engine to offer some different charger ideas for the Ace Pilot and Bounty Hunter themes. Buckle up, we’re making the jump!

---

Ace Pilot Character Concepts

“You are most comfortable at the controls of a vehicle, whether it’s a starship racing through the inky void of space or a ground vehicle zooming between trees, around boulders, and across dusty badlands. You might be a member of an elite military force, the recipient of intense courses of training. Alternatively, you might be a total amateur with innate skills that make you a much-admired hotshot.” – Starfinder CRB

Cargo Transport Pilot – You’ve been on the open road…er…space your whole life. Maybe you enjoy the solitude that comes with transporting outrageous quantities of goods across planets or star systems. These goods could be anything – weapons, construction materials, medical devices. Or maybe it’s a grab bag and half of the excitement stems from wondering what the next shipment will contain. The many laws governing tariffs & import/export taxes come second-nature, and your expertise in maneuvering an unruly behemoth transport ship is unrivaled. I’m sure you have some fantastic stories about the characters that you’ve met at depots and docks along the way. Have you operated with a crew or are you more of a lone wolf? Are you ‘by the book’ or are you known to bend the rules when regulations aren’t being followed? And hey, I’m not going to judge if you smuggle something every now and again – that’s completely up to you.

 Mining Rig Operator – A specialist when it comes to operating heavy machinery, and someone who’s not afraid to get their hands dirty. Whether it be a massive drill, asteroid borer, front-end loader, or excavator, you have the honed precision required of someone who could easily level a structure or cause a fatality with a minor slip of the controls. You might harbor a deep love of geology, wealth, or the smell of space-diesel. If you’ve seen Disney’s Atlantis, Gaetan ‘The Mole’ comes to mind here, in all his grimy glory. Has mining been in your family for generations, or were you trying to make some credits in whatever profession was available? Have you pocketed any of your unearthed materials and sold them on the sly? What sort of role would you have on a starship that isn’t a dedicated mining vessel?

Stunt Driver – Inhabitants of the Pact Worlds crave entertainment, and you know how to deliver. From hologram tapes to over-capacity arenas, the lengths you go to appease your audiences is unmatched. How do you prepare yourself mentally to be fearless? Is there any stunt that you won’t do? Huge flames, steep jumps, free-falling acrobatics – you’ve done it all! Have you become an adventurer to satisfy a new craving that’s suddenly emerged deep inside? Are you an adrenaline junky with no care for your personal safety? Or are you THAT confident in your abilities that you simply must show them off at every opportunity?  

 Military Training Pilot – You’ve risen through the ranks of a military sect, but you figured that you’re done with combat missions. Instead, you are now responsible for grooming the fresh batch of hot-heads in the Academy to ensure that engagements end favorably at the minimal loss of life and equipment. You could be highly decorated and revered by all, or maybe you’ve never actually seen combat but have a brilliant mind for tactics and strategy. Did you develop a sophisticated training module for recruits? Are you a master of physics and can perform complex equations regarding acceleration, drag, and gravity on the fly? Maybe you’re not pleased about being given a non-combative assignment and yearn to be back in the fight, wherever that might be.

 Getaway Driver – You’ll ‘wait in the car.’ You know the best nooks and crannies to hide in after a successful operation, be it a heist or a GTA. Apart from having nerves of steel, your ability to handle any vehicle makes you highly coveted in the high-stakes game of evading the authorities. Perhaps you have a catchy pseudonym, like “Leadfoot” or “Afterburner” that adds an edge of mystery to your growing legend. Are you available for hire depending on the highest bidder, or are you loyal to a dedicated group of criminals? Or maybe you’re not a criminal at all, and you’re an undercover agent networking to root out the top dogs of the criminal world. What drives you (pun intended) and keeps your foot on the accelerator? I haven’t seen Baby Driver, but I imagine that he would make for a fun Starfinder character.

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Bounty Hunter Character Concepts

“You track people down for money. It is a dangerous profession, as most of your targets understandably don’t wish to be caught. You wouldn’t have it any other way. You might have a code of ethics, never taking jobs that, say, target children or members of your own race. You might hunt down only escaped criminals. Or you might be completely amoral, taking any job that comes along—for the right price.” – Starfinder CRB

 Great Mouse Detective – Maybe I’m getting a little ahead of myself on this one, but a Ysoki Detective? Come on! Okay, we can drop the ‘mouse’ portion of this to generalize it a bit, but a detective makes for a great Bounty Hunter. Searching for clues? Check. Interrogating witnesses? Check. An independent free-lancer? Check, check, check. Now all we need is a mahogany pipe that functions while wearing an airtight, pressurized helmet. Are you a Private Investigator, helping people track down lost relatives? Do you offer your services on a contract basis, assisting the local authorities when your services are required? Maybe you’re exceptional at finding clues, or adept at making accurate deductions based on the information on-hand. Or perhaps your forte involves the canvassing of a crime scene to gather the word on the street, or you could be skilled at poring over historical documents and ancestry lineages.

 Gung-Ho Repo-Man – It’s time to pay the piper. Whether it be collecting vehicles or ships that have defaulted loans, or shaking down debtors who are skipping town without paying back the credits owed, there are plenty of avenues to venture down as a repo-man (or woman). Are you employed by a roving band of outlaws or by a seedy brand of space mafia? Do you find honor in returning to others what is rightfully theirs? You can be cold and calculated, or a wild child with a smoking gun. Do you believe in using violence to get the job done, by obtaining the required items by whatever means necessary? Or do you have a strict code of conduct and will only resort to fighting if it is absolutely necessary and all other accessible routes have been exhausted? Either way, you get the job done and collect that paycheck, because if someone is going to get paid, it might as well be you.  

 Corporate Headhunter – Everybody’s looking for that perfect candidate to fill the shoes and help their company prosper. Sure, you’re a bounty hunter, but you aren’t collecting the reward on some beat-up Toyota Star-is or trying to bring in a fugitive; you are trying to find the right people and put them in the right seats. Corporations pay you top dollar (after six months) when you track down someone with the appropriate skillset and convince them to accept a position at their firms. You have an absurd eye for noticing talent, even when it isn’t a skill that people recognize themselves as having. These aren’t rush jobs; you know that the only way to scout ability is to dig in beyond the resume and get to know the person behind the paper. Whittling down long lists of candidates to a select few and engaging them in social situations is your true calling, and you truly want them to succeed. If they’re not a fit, it’s on to the next one until you find that diamond in the rough.

 Pre-Gap Antiquarian – Not much is known about the Gap (that’s why it’s called ‘the Gap’), but you recognize that there is much to be learned about the past, and that the key to unlocking the secrets of what we’ve collectively forgotten lies in the relics that remain. You seek out machinery, trinkets, baubles, clothing – any odds and ends whose origins have long since been forgotten. Perhaps you scour through old histories and manuscripts, trying to locate legendary items of extraordinary power. Do you have magic at your disposal to aid you in your search, ala a dowsing rod? Do you gravitate towards items of a certain kind, like ancient weapons? What draws you to these items in the first place? Maybe there have been stories passed down through your family and you became attached to them, bringing nostalgia into the mix. Or maybe you believe that the way technology is progressing leaves people disconnected with nature or causes us to lack the stronger bond that comes in a slower-moving culture. You probably hoard some of your treasures and keep an exceptionally special item on your person. You could be a hoarder, or run a shop that deals in the sale and acquisition of oddities and antiques.

 Zealous Proselytizer – Instead of being driven by the promise of gold or riches, you seek out the good fortune that comes from your deity looking favorably upon you. Whether it be Talavet, Weydan or any deity in between, you seek out others in attempt to show them the enlightenment that comes with becoming a follower. In a way, you are a bounty hunter of souls. Maybe you preach openly in front of large crowds and then try to personally recruit the ones who come up to your afterwards who show interest and promise. Or perhaps you spend more time watching and listening, following people whose dispositions align best with your deity’s tenets. You don’t necessarily have to be pushy, but you certainly could get aggressive if you become frustrated with your efforts. What if they don’t see the world as you see it? You might not be terribly high on the totem pole, either; you could be passing out leaflets in hopes that you ascend the ranks if you make your quota. Do you have a quota? If so, is it more of a personal goal or an appointed goal? What if you’re not aligned with a deity at all, but you hop between them depending on the one that grants the most benefits? After all, nobody’s perfect.

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And there you have it! Since I’ve already done the Icon in a previous post, our next stop will be the Mercenary and Outlaw themes. I’m really looking forward to these two, as they both have a negative connotation and I want to see if we can’t shrug off those predispositions and put a positive spin on them! The main problem I have with posts like these is that I want to start putting together a bunch of characters, most of which will never see the light of day. So, please - create! I shall live through your characters!

 Until next time – the stars aren’t the limit; they’re only the beginning.

[lovelyjishwa]

rock show ; tyler joseph imagine

"Aren't you pumped, Y/N?" Your best friend squeals excitedly in the small line beside you. "Of course I am!" You reply to her with a giggle, still completely ecstatic over the fact you were going to see your favourite band in concert. Even though you'd already seen them perform multiple times, the feeling of excitement and adrenaline that flooded your body had never changed It finally hit you that for the first time, you were going into the chaotic pit of a Twenty One Pilots concert. In the previous concerts you attended, you and your best friend had seats that were on the sides of the venue. However, this time you were going in be in the front row, pressed against the barrier of the pit; and that was guaranteed because you had arrived so many hours early to get your spot. You were going to be so close to the extraordinary band that you could see their faces up close. No screens, no TVs. In person. And that sent shivers down your spine. "I just can't believe that it would be possible to be so close to them, especially Tyler. I owe all I've got to that man and he doesn't even know it," you say with a shaky exhale. This concert meant everything to you. It's as if being in the pit is like being on stage with the boys, sharing every single experience together. "I know you've been through hell and back, and I'm so glad their music and Tyler's words could be there for you. But tonight is all about being in the moment! Tonight we are going to finally be alive!" Your best friend squeals for the millionth time that day and pulls you into a heartwarming hug. You have no idea what you'd do without her love and support. "Let's hope we don't die tonight in the pit. I've seen how crazy it gets in there," you add. You tried to hide your nervousness under a small chuckle after your words. "Don't worry, we'll be fine! Besides, if Josh, Tyler or the security spot anything fishy going on, they'll get you out straight away," your best friend nudges you on the shoulder and smile at you reassuringly. She could tell you were about to start sweating due to how anxious you had became, but she had your back if something unplanned happened. You and your best friend had made it to the front of the pit, wild grins on your faces as you watched the venue fill up with people. Your wide eyes scanned across the Clique members that were practically drowning in the band's merch, with all equally excited grins on their faces. It was only a matter of time that the best night of your life was going to begin. And you weren't going to forget it. _______ The crowd roared as Tyler jumped off the stage and into the tight space between the stage and the pit, leaving Josh in his own little world with his drums. The security guards helped Tyler onto the crowd, hands grabbing onto his ankles so he could stand. You felt your heart sink slightly because you couldn't get to him, due to everybody pushing and shoving, but you were still overjoyed that you were so close to him. His eyes glimmered with happiness and gratitude. A large smile was plastered on his face, Tyler's white teeth shining in the lights. You could see the stubble growing on his chin and jaw, his long and dark eyelashes contrasting with his starry brown eyes. You felt a wave of serenity wash over you. You weren't sure what this feeling was, but it made you feel complete. "Tyler!" His name slips out from your lips in a yell, dreaming to get the attention of the male who had his head was down, focused on trying to stay balance on the crowd. Tyler immediately raised his head up and you were met with sweet doe eyes. You felt everything stop. The sound of crazed fans and loud drumming in the background, muted. All you could focus on was Tyler. You looked into his eyes and got lost in them. You swore it felt like walking through a beautiful forest, trees towering over you. The earthy smells of pinecones and grass roaming the atmosphere. You felt peace. With all of these feelings rushing inside you, you managed to widened your eyes, astounded that he heard you over the screaming of thousands of people around the both of you. "You saved my life, thank you!" You stammered inaudibly to begin, but you managed to spit your words out louder the second time. You held your hand out as high as you possibly could, hoping he'd take it. His eyes softened and watered with pride with your words, Josh still pounding at his drums to fill in the time it took to get his band mate on the crowd. "I'm glad we could be there for you!" He yelled back as you watched a small tear quickly slip down his cheek. You could see the bliss and overwhelming amount of thankfulness in his eyes. The whole Clique knows how much those small connections with fans, means to Tyler. It's his motivation to keep going even when he's in his darkest hours. The thought that his music had saved a troubled person, helps him push through his own. Tyler lent down shakily and grabbed your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, not breaking his eye contact with you. Your hand was smaller in his, but it fit. Your hands had fit together like puzzle pieces, that it were meant to be. Your heart skipped a beat and you clung onto his hand for dear life, not wanting to let go and he did the same. Something set a spark off in your stomach when he gave your hand a small squeeze, after noticing you were crying. This had to be a dream, it was too good to be true. Maybe it was the sound of the crowd screaming, or the feeling of invincibility that made you feel so calm. Everytime you came to a Twenty One Pilots concert, it made you feel at home. There's no place you'd rather be than singing songs that nobody wrote with thousands of people. "I'm taking over my body, back in control, no more shotty. I bet a lot of me was lots T's and crossed I's undotted. I fought it a lot and seems a lot like flesh is all I got not anymore, flesh out the door," He sang into the microphone, each word laced with passion. You didn't remove your eyes from Tyler's, not willing for the blissful connection between you both to end. Tyler continued to sing and the crowd couldn't get enough, and neither could you. Your hero had your hand in his and he was gripping it tightly, like he was afraid that if he did, the world would crumble. The crowd looked at Tyler with stars in their eyes, gazing upon what is their world. "You are surrounding all my surroundings sounding, down the mountain range, of my left side brain. You are surrounding all my surroundings, twisting the kaleidoscope, behind both of my eyes." You watched Tyler's bright eyes roam the crowd around him, feasting his eyes upon the beautiful white lights the Clique made with their phones. However, his eyes stopped and locked with yours again, and sang the seven words you'd never forget. "And I'll be holding on to you." He sang. These words were soft and meaningful, different for when he yells it in the studio version. Meaning and purpose spilled from his voice and made your heart melt. You blushed wildly and Tyler chuckled into the microphone, the beautiful sound echoing through the arena. Quickly before the security guard pulled him off the crowd, Tyler pulled his own backstage pass out of his back pocket and handed to you. The mass of fans around him tried to swipe and grab the pass, but he made sure that you got it with a couple of scoldings to the fans below him. "Come after the show," he said as the security guard ripped Tyler off the crowd and out of your reach. You can't seem to form any words since you were so shocked over his gesture, so you nodded in response. Slowly, his fingers slipped away from yours but Tyler kept his arm outstretched, giving you the feeling he didn't want to let go. From there and on in the concert, Tyler continued to belt out his songs with all that he had. He looked at you in the crowd when he was singing The Run And Go, particularly when he sang, "tonight I need you to stay". Let's just say Tyler made you blush millions of times through the concert. Your best friend was freaking out beside you after how he talked to you in 'Holding On To You'. She was freaking out just as much as you were and that was a crap ton. ______ "What do you do?" Your best friend said standing around awkwardly. It was the end of the concert and everybody had already left. It was just you and your friend in the venue, nobody else to be seen. "I-I dunno," You replied running your hand through your hair anxiously. You begin to scan over the arena, hoping to see a security guard somewhere to take you backstage. Your eyes fall over a familiar person, walking out from backstage and onto the stage. "Holy shit, that's Tyler Joseph," your best friend stammered and pointed in his direction. You nodded and shoved your clammy hands into your jean pockets. "I can't believe you're gonna meet Tyler Joseph," she said and gave you a hug. "I'll be outside the arena waiting for you," she smiles and bids you farewell, leaving you and Tyler alone in the area. You gathered all your thoughts and took a deep breath, walking over to the stage. You walked up the few steps and you grew closer to Tyler. You saw his cheeks flushed a crimson as you approached him and he began to walk over to you. "Hey," Tyler said with a large smile and pulled you into a hug. This took you by surprise as he wrapped his arms around your waist, but you pushed down your awkwardness and hugged him back. You snaked your arms around his neck and let out a shaky breath. "When are you gonna meet that girl in the crowd that you won't shut up about" A tall man with yellow hair announced as he walked out onto the stage in search of his friend, twiddling the red drumstick in his hand. "Oh," he said as he saw you and Tyler standing together. You saw Tyler narrow his eyes at Josh from the corner of your eye, pulling his bottom lip under his teeth. "You know what- I'm just gonna," Josh pointed to the backstage with his thumb and cleared his throat awkwardly, then retraced his steps back to the room behind the stage. You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Tyler was talking about you to his best friend? "Well that's proof Josh is practically a mother walking in on his kid that's with his crush," Tyler chuckled awkwardly and scratched the back of his head. "Crush, huh?" You smirk confidently and giggle. "Yeah- I uh," Tyler stammered and failed to collect his words which made you bite your lip. How could somebody be so cute when they're nervous? "I'm really glad that our music could help you in your dark times," Tyler said with a gentle smile. "I am too. If it weren't for this music, I don't know how I would've fought the demons in my head," you said honestly. This year had been really rough and it didn't have any benefits on your mental health. However, when Twenty One Pilots came into your life and you found out that a man named Tyler Joseph shared the same feelings as you, you didn't feel so alone. "It really means a lot. It's really comforting to know I'm not the only one going through this stuff," Tyler replied and looked down at the ground, tapping his foot against the stage shyly. "I was wondering if you'd like to tag along with Josh and I to get something to eat downtown? It's all good if you can't," Tyler said after quickly collecting himself. A smile crawled onto your lips as he raised his head slowly to see your reaction to his proposal. "That sounds lovely. Let me guess, we're going to a Taco Bell nearby?" You replied with a boost of confidence. You had no idea why you felt so comfortable and chilled out around Tyler, but you chose to ignore the thought and let it happen. "How did you know?" A relieved chuckle left his lips, his brown eyes twinkling in the light above the stage. "Who in the Clique doesn't know?" You giggled. "Play ukulele?" He asks to clear the small silence. Tyler walked over to his ukulele that was perched on it's stand, retrieving it and bringing it back to you. "Yeah, I know some stuff," you say as he hands it to you. You take it and smile, strumming it gently. You know how to play lots of songs on the ukulele and it was all thanks to Tyler for inspiring you to do so. "I'm going to go clean myself up and look somewhat presentable. I'll be back in a few minutes, please don't leave," he said with a small and sencere smile. "I'll be here, don't worry," you said sitting yourself down on the edge of the stage, playing a few chords on the instrument in your lap. With that, Tyler headed off to backstage. However, you didn't notice Tyler stopping at the door to backstage. His soft eyes stayed on you, just listening to you hum the sound of Tear In My Heart, accompanied by quiet strums of his ukulele. He couldn't wipe the smile off his face. And neither could you.

[imagines-dreams]

List for the Future - Newton Geiszler

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: violence, war, death, angst a lot of angst

Summary: You and Newt had been together for years. When you get recruited on a mission last minute, it changed both of your lives forever.

Word Count:3725

Newt and you were inseparable.

“I swear, I will die of sweetness,” Gottlieb had told the both of you several times.

You rolled your eyes. “What? You want kisses, too, Herman?”

Newt pulled you into his side. “Why are you offering that?”

You shrugged. “Just cause.” You kissed his nose. “Don’t worry, you’re the only one for me.” You pulled him by his tie and planted your lips right on his.

Newt blushed before closing his eyes and kissing you back. He sighed and kissed you again. He pulled you in by the waist and moaned against your lips.

Dr. Gottlieb threw his calculator on his desk. “I’m done with this nonsense!”

You laughed and pulled away from your boyfriend. Newt gazed at you, trying to form words, but it just came out as stutters. He gave up and tried to focus on his work. That tingling on his lips was distracting, though.

You patted Dr. Gottlieb on the back. “Don’t worry. I’m off. Reports are calling me.” You kissed Newt on the cheek and skipped off. Once you exited the lab, you leaned against the closed doors and smiled. Yes, there was a war. Yes, you have witnessed death before. Yes, you weren’t satisfied, but you had Newt. He made up for everything with his goofy smile and genius plans and predictions. And he was yours. And you were his.

It was more than you could ask for.

The room grew hotter, and you covered your cheeks and mouth to hide the blushing and smiling. If it was like this during the war, how would it be after?

You and Newt had talked about it of course.

You had been sitting on Newt’s cot. Newt had been lying down with his head in your lap as the two of you watched the news.

Newt groaned and turned off the tv. “No more of that.” He gazed up at you. “Have I ever told you how much you mean to me?”

You giggled. You leaned down to kiss his nose. “Many times, genius.”

He averted his gaze as a blush dusted his cheeks and fiddled with his tie.

“Have you ever thought of life after the war?” you asked absentmindedly.

Newt stiffened. “Uh...I mean, maybe. I mean I, of course, had thought about it. I would like to have you in my future.” He paused. Then, he shot up to sit next to you. “I mean, if that doesn’t sound creepy or anything. I mean, I know-”

You laughed and brushed his wild locks out of his eyes.

Newt froze. Then, he sighed and placed his hand over yours.

You gave him a short kiss and rested your forehead against his. “I’ve thought about it.” Blood rushed to your face, and you weren’t sure if Newt was looking at you or a strawberry. “I’ve thought about life after the war. WIth you.” You giggled. You didn’t want to say marriage. That scared people off. But, you have thought about it.

Newt beamed. “I would like that, too. Very much. Yeah, very much, and a small wedding or big.” His eyes widened. “Or none at all. I mean, I don’t mind.” He laughed a little. “I actually have a list of what I want in the future.”

You smiled. “Really? I should do that some time. What’s on your list, Newt?”

He took a deep breath and kissed you. “You.” He kissed you again. “As long as I’m with you, I’ll like life after the war.”

You giggled, and Newt leaned in to kiss you again.

You didn’t notice. What if… What if that wasn’t possible? Life after war and Newt’s list of the future. You stared at your thumbs and gulped.

“(Y/n)?” Newt placed his hand on yours.

“Sorry,” you muttered, “I just… what if one of us-”

He pursed his lips stroked stroked cheek.

“(Y/n),” he whispered, “we can’t-”

“No, no, we do need to talk about this,” you insisted.

Newt’s eyes shimmered with tears, and it made you regret what you said. But, you had to talk about this. You had been with Newt for years, and the war had been going on for more than that. Your friends were either away or dead. You couldn’t help but wonder if that could happen to one of you.

Newt stared at his arm and took off one of the many leather bracelets. “A promise that we'll be together.” He wrapped it around your wrist with shaking hands. When it was finally secure, he smiled.

Even when his smile was small, it still made you feel better. The thoughts of death and war and separation disappeared. You giggled. “I have nothing for you, Newt.” You pursed your lips.

Newt beamed and kissed your forehead. “I have your heart, don’t I?”

You shoved him away with a laugh. “You are too cheesy!” After a pause, you grabbed his tie, pulled him close, and kissed him again. “I love you, my Newton Geiszler.”

“And I,” Newt kissed you, “love you, my (Y/n) (Y/l/n).”

The two of you had remained in that position in comfortable silence. Thoughts had floated around in both of your minds, of marriage, of home, of love.

“(Y/n) (Y/l/n), please, report to the loading dock. Report to the loading dock, (Y/n) (Y/l/n).”

You shook yourself out of your stupor and jogged to the dock. You asked one of the commanding officers where you were supposed to be headed.

Marshall met you in front of a helicopter. “Ms. (Y/l/n), good to see you.”

“What do you need me to do, sir?”

He sighed and said, “This is last minute, but I need a Jaeger pilot.”

Your eyes widened. “I haven’t drifted with anyone for years, sir. WIth all due respect, there must be more experienced pilots.”

“There are not.”

You grit your teeth. What had happened to the other pilots? “Sir, I have no partner to drift with.”

“We’re desperate. They need back-up.”

“I need gear.” You needed to tell Newt. But gear was important, too.

“We have your gear in your new Jaeger.” Marshall almost smiled. “I will inform Dr. Geiszler of your new mission.”

You gulped. “Fine.” You licked your lips. “Wait. Sir?”

“Yes?”

You took off your bracelet and handed it to him. “My promise to Newt that I’ll be back.” Then, you stepped into the helicopter. You were handed a tablet that had your new partner’s information as well as the mission at hand. A lieutenant gave you more details. The location. The status. The monster.

“A double Category four?” you gasped. “Two of them? We’ve had one category three and one four, but this.”

The lieutenant shrugged. “Guess that’s why he wanted the best for the job.”

You gulped. You weren’t the best. You were retired, just helping the base whenever you can and trying to keep Newt sane. You hadn’t been in a Jaeger in years. You were being shoved into one of those with a new partner that you should’ve known for months through training. It was…

Sobs rattled your chest.

No, you were coming back. There were two Jaegers on the ground already. Maybe three could stop the double category four. Yes, three could stop a double category four. You had to.

You rubbed your wrist to make sure it was still there. A part of you was missing.

You shook hands with your partner, a girl built for war. Greta told you that her partner was still in a critical health condition. You two talked a bit. She was a child of two war heroes, and she was continuing their legacy. She didn’t like it at first, but she did it because she knew she had to do something.

You shared your story. Your upbringing, your downfalls, and your successes. Being a Jaeger pilot meant no lies. It would be pointless and just caused more pain when the two Jaeger pilots drifted.

Then, you were drifting with her.

After drifting, you checked your nose. Not bleeding. Your head wasn’t too bad. Your stomach wasn’t coming up your throat. So, you were ok.

“Newt’s a nice guy,” your partner commented with a sly smile.

You blushed. “Yeah.” You licked your lips. “Now, time to kick some ass.”

You and your partner fought with all you could. You fumbled a bit, forgetting a few key actions and controls, but your partner must’ve done this before. She stayed calm and instructed you to do things quite easily. The other Jaegers were a lot of help as well. They used simpler words that you have forgotten and explained complicated plans clearly. You really were thankful. They probably saved your life.

Right as one of the category four’s went down, another appeared, seemingly bursting from the ocean in an unneeded splash of waves accompanying it.

Your brain already ached like you had taken all of your subject’s finals in one day. Too many protocols crashed in your head like equations and acronyms.

Sensing your distress, your partner reminded you with a slight frown. “We can’t retreat.”

“I know.” You grunted. “We have to beat them.”

Meanwhile, Newt was searching for you.

“Dr. Geiszler,” a voice boomed.

Your boyfriend froze. He slowly turned around and greeted grandly, “Marhshall, sir! How are you?”

“Doctor, Ms. (Y/l/n) has left for a mission and will be back by tomorrow morning.”

Newt tilted his head. “With all due respect, Marshall, my girlfriend would’ve told me she’s going out of base. She’s just tricking me and playing hide-”

“I requested that Ms. (Y/l/n) return to her position of a pilot temporarily.” Marshall showed him your bracelet. “She told me to show to you as her promise to come back.”

Newt scrutinized the bracelet. He snatched it from the Marshall’s hands and felt it between his fingers. “No.” He heaved. “Wait a minute, you took a retired pilot and forced her to drift with a stranger? Even I think that’s crazy!” He laughed. “And I know crazy.”

The Marshall stayed stoic. “She knew the risks and took the mission.”

“Then why didn’t she tell me?”

“Because the mission was urgent. She had to leave immediately.”

Newt gripped the bracelet. “How many Kaijus were there?”

“Doctor, that information-’”

“I am one of two scientists that helps figure out what the Kaijus are and what they want. What was her mission, Marshall?!”

“There were two category four’s on scene. One had just been defeated, and another category four appeared.”

Newt’s eyes widened. Kaiju biology and fascination was overcome with fear. You were in a Jaeger with a pilot you met that day with a double category four situation. You gave him back his bracelet… Newt’s voice didn’t shake. “I need to talk with her.”

“Doctor-”

He growled and shouted in the Marshall’s face, “You will not have a Kaiju biologist in this base if I do not speak with my girlfriend!” Newt shivered as the anger was once again replaced by terror. “Sir, please,” he begged.

Marshall nodded. That was all Newt needed to run to the control room. He grabbed the microphone from an unsuspecting soldier. “(Y/n), please, are you there? (Y/n)!”

You heard Newt’s voice through your earpiece. “Newt?” You smiled. “Newt!” You pushed the monster off your armor with a groan. It was getting tiresome.

Newt sighed with relief. “Thank God! (Y/n), I’m going to get your through this, ok? I know those bastards better than-”

A soldier tried to swipe the microphone away.

Newt hissed. “Back off! That’s right, that’s my girlfriend in that Jaeger. Come close and you get-”

“Newt,” you warned. You reached behind your back for the sword, despite the pain that struck your shoulder. “Ready?” you asked your partner.

She winced as she reached behind her back. “Ready.”

The two of you brandished the sword and jumped on the Kaiju. However, the monster swiped the two of you away like flies. You crashed right into the ocean. You felt something crack, like a twig. You screamed.

“(Y/n)!” Newt ran to check your vitals. Both you and your partner were not in good shape. He gulped. “Ok, (Y/n), I need you to not put your weight on your right. Your partner, too. Sorry, what’s your name?”

“Greta,” the two of you responded.

Newt nodded. “Both of you, keep weight off of your right as much as you can.” Newt racked his brain. “Stay in the ocean. The water will take away a bit of your weight. Get the Kaijus to the ocean. Then, fight.” Newt inhaled deeply. “Does anyone have water for crying out loud! I am helping Greta and my girlfriend!”

Even with a broken leg, you laughed. “Newt!”

Right then, the kaiju leapt onto you. You pushed back, but your leg was crumpling under the weight. You reached for the cannon, but it was swatted out of your hands. Your partner swung the sword, but the kaiju decided it was a good meal. “We’re losing weapons!” you shouted.

“Really?” your partner remarked.

You buckled under the kaiju’s weight and fell to the ocean floor.

“(Y/n)!” Newt shouted. “Marshall, don’t they have any other weapons? Rockets? Another secret arm? More cannons? Marshall-”

“They’ve exhausted all of the weapons given,” the Marshall gravely stated.

Newt shook his head. “No, no. (Y/n)!”

“Newt?” you breathed. The suit felt like lead, and you were going down. It felt hard to breathe.

“(Y/n), retreat. Get back to base. Now!”

You pressed your palms against the monster and pushed as hard as you could.

Then, your left side burned. Your eyes widened. “Greta!” You glanced at the woman next to you. She wasn’t moving. “No!” Suddenly, the kaiju felt heavier. You felt like you got shot right in the head. The bad part was you were still alive to feel the burn of the bullet that passed and the hole it left in your brain. With no partner to drift with, the pain you and Greta shared crashed onto you.

Newt looked at your vitals. You were dying. Greta was dead, and the weight was too much for you. “(Y/n), leave the suit now! You’ll have a better chance swimming! Get out!”

You pushed against the kaiju once more. You had a few precious seconds to dismantle the suit that held you to the Jaeger. You unbuckled on thing. You took off one strap.

The kaiju jumped on top of you. Your arm was pinned down, and the other burned. “Newt!” you screamed.

Newt scanned the Jaeger plans and muttered under his breath. There was nothing. No emergency protocols. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. He ran a hand threw his hair, and he desperately tried to pull at its roots. Maybe an idea would pop out and he could save you. “(Y/n), please, you’ve got to try. Please, please.”

You lifted your arm, but the monster banged its head against your arm. Then, it cut the robot right in half.

Everything below your waist went numb. Your legs hung limply from wires. You couldn’t jump or run or even crawl. Water poured into the robot, and it was going towards you. “Newt,” you whispered, “Newt, I love you.”

“No!” Newt shook his head. “No, you are going to get out of this and get back your bracelet and we’re going to live to see the end of this war. We will get married and have kids and pets and visit Hermann and grow old-”

“Newt,” you said softly with a small smile. “I’m sorry. I should’ve-”

You stopped. Then, radio silence turned to static. Newt blinked. He gulped and tried to smile. “(Y/n), come on. You can do this. Come back.” He licked his lips and waited. “(Y/n),” tears dropped from his chin and he quickly wiped his eyes, “come on. I know you’re there.”

Marshall patted Newt’s shoulder. “Doctor-”

Newt slapped his hands off of his shoulder. “Get off of me,” he sneered. “(Y/n)!” he shouted. He looked at your vitals. There was nothing… No heartbeat. No breathing rate. No brain activity. “She disconnected from the Jaeger. That’s why.” Newt nodded and gulped and wound up his tie.

The Marshall opened his mouth.

“No! You do not get to speak. (Y/n)!”

Marshall whispered, “Please, escort Dr. Geiszler to his lab.”

Newt felt arms on his shoulders. He turned back and swatted them away. “Let go of me. I am the only biologist in this base, and I deserve to be here!” When the soldier tried to grab him again, Newt punched him in the chest twice and pushed him away. “Get away from me,” he muttered lowly. He rubbed his bracelet, your bracelet. It was still your bracelet. You were alive. You had to be alive. You had to be-

Two soldiers dragged him out of the room. “No! (Y/n)! Give her back to me! Give her back! I need to tell her! I had plans! I had everything!”

Then, he had nothing.

He had grown tired of screaming and fighting and even experimenting. He sat in the lab while Dr. Hermann Gottlieb tried to work. There was a thick air, full of unsaid things and painful memories. Newt could barely look at the floor, let alone the chair you used to sit in.

“Newton-”

“Don’t, Hermann,” Newt spat. “Don’t.” He stared at your bracelet, his bracelet, as tears slid down his cheeks. He sniffed. His chest shook with silent sobs as he continued to stare. The scientist wanted to stop staring at that damn bracelet, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bare not to look at it. It was yours. The one thing he had from you. He needed to look at it. He needed to make sure you were real, that the love you two shared was real and…

Newt cracked and fell to the ground with a thump. He held onto to his empty dissection table and wailed. His empty chest kept on shaking, and he held his bracelet, your bracelet, tightly in his fist.

Hermann ran to his side, but he wasn’t sure what to do. He awkwardly reached out his hand, but Newt pushed him away. “Don’t,” he cried.

“Newton, (Y/n)-”

Newt sobbed. “Don’t say her name!”

Hermann pursed his lips. He really didn’t know what to do. The mathematician grabbed a blanket and threw it on Newton. Newt didn’t even bother wrapping it around himself, so Hermann did it for him. Newt shook his head and pushed both the blanket and Hermann off. “Stop it.”

“Newton, you are in bad shape.”

“Why does it matter?” Newt whispered. “I don’t deserve. I don’t deserve anything.”

“Don’t be ridiculous-”

“I couldn’t save her!” Newt yelled with puffy eyes and a stuffy nose. “I have Ph.D.’s a-and experience with some of the most terrifying monsters in the universe. I-I graduated from MIT, and I-I got excellent recommendations, and now it means nothing.” Newt jammed his finger into his chest, as if he was trying to pierce flesh or bones. “I couldn’t save the woman I love.”

“You could save the world, Newton. You’re a-”

“She was my world, Hermann! Don’t you get that!” New shrunk back into himself. “I don’t have anything. Not without her.”

Days, weeks, months passed. Newt had been given what was left of your things. A small box with a few photos of family, of the two of you. You had a few trinkets from travelling during the war. You had one medal for defeating a few kaijus way before you were with Newt. Newt was given another medal. One in honor of your death. He didn’t really look at that one that much.

There was no letter. Newt dug through box for some sort of closure. More than a shaky i-love-you and a broken sentence. Marshall told him that you had written a letter, but many things were lost when you stopped piloting Jaegers.

So, Newt searched for the letter. He kicked out the soldier who moved into your room and searched. There was nothing to find. He found one of his ties in the back of your closet. Newt cried for a long time until he couldn’t find any more tears.

Then, Hermann found something. “Newton, I found something.” He handed Newt a folded up piece of paper. “It was taped to your board in the corner. I thought it was yours, but it had better handwriting.”

Newt stared at it. Tears came and silently fell from his cheeks. He wiped them and unfolded the piece of paper.

It wasn’t a letter.

It was a list. He vaguely remembered telling you that he had a list of what he wanted in the future the day he gave you a bracelet. You wanted to make one, and you did. That list had a few things scratched out and erased. It had doodles of his glasses and his tie. His name was on the list. Newton Geiszler. However, what got him the most was the last thing on the list.

Newt’s smile. You wrote those two words as the last thing on your list. You labelled it as the most important thing on your list, indicated by words, arrows, and different colors.

Newt pressed your list to his chest and cried.

Hermann brought over a chair and led Newt to sit.

Newt doubled over, and, and when he saw his tears fall on your list, he wiped it off the paper and dried his eyes. Then, he did something he hadn’t done since you’ve died. He smiled. He laughed. Out of all things to put on your list, from peace and him and marriage and stability and happiness, you thought that the most important thing was his smile.

Newt held up the list to his eyes and beamed. Well, if he couldn’t give you peace, marriage, stability, your happiness, or even life, he could smile and think of you. It would be hard, but if that’s what you really wanted, he would try his damned hardest to do so.

SOOO MUUUCCCHHH ANGST!!!! I love angst. Writing it! I mean! I hope you all enjoy it!