#never reporting from a mission that is apparently a mission nobody has ever come back alive from is something entirely different

[asexualannoyance]

i finished rewatching kinnporsche today and, like, it's so fucked that - even though he is head bodyguard (be it of tankhun or in general doesn't really matter) and being send on an extremely dangerous mission - it takes tankhun saying something for kinn and porsche to be more than a little suspicious of the whole vacation story, and even then they are sceptical of the validity of tankhun's claim that something might've happened to pete

like, pete has been a bodyguard for quite some time and still not even kinn thinks it's suspicious that pete doesn't report back after the mission - even though kinn acknowledged the dangers of sending pete on that mission

and i know part of that is porsche's doing - honeymoon phase, hoorayyyy - but just, they do so much stuff in these episodes where pete is captured and not once is anybody going "ey, what's up with pete?" - not even the other bodyguards

[violetsystems]

#personal

I haven't been doing much of anything except sending out resumes and listing stuff on eBay. The resumes seem to go nowhere but surprisingly everybody wants to buy something at the world's largest garage sale. There's a lot to like about getting rid of shit for cash. I've been on a lifelong mission of downsizing the worthless detritus that has piled up in my life. You should see my friend's list. But part of the madness is dealing with the overhang of depression that nothing seems to get better or change in real life. It's a silent expectation for me t o not rock the boat. To keep upholding a corrupt system of winks, nudges and constant neighborhood surveillance. Never really ever asking my name, how long I've lived here and why people can't seem to remember I exist when it comes time to apologize. I've learned most of the world is like this now. No personal responsibility for anything. Just a joke or a smile for every awkward encounter that seems to violate every nascent idea of human rights you've come to expect in a country that lies a lot. I was buying coffee at the local grocery yesterday. They never have the Bridgeport coffee in the system when you ring it up. So they either have to run and price check it or take your word for it. The cashier asked me if I knew the price and I said 10.99. She said she trusted me. The delivery on the line wasn't sarcastic and I really wasn't lying. Coffee is one of those things that inflation and advertising share a demarcation line with. If you drink it black like I do without sugar then there's a real difference between roast and taste. Starbuck's overr oasts everything to ash. A dark roast from La Colombe is like licking the oil off a tire iron. Blue bottle seems to never fuck up a roast but their twelve ounce bags cost over twenty dollars if you subscribe to it. Close to thirty if you decide to help out the delivery man and go into the store yourself. I've heard it said from people from Taiwan that real culture came from the things that were readily available during dark times. I still walk everywhere in this neighborhood. The Costco is only a few blocks away. The local groceries have their own deals and culture to them. But for the record the only thing I ever do with the money I was awarded from my work as retirement is shop. And with no money coming in from anything because of an apparent blacklisting and social campaign to bury me invisibly? There isn't much to focus on to deal with the depression of being isolated by society for three years and have people online read about it. There's things I'm not unhappy about for sure. And that includes my friendships on the internet. But nobody outside the internet will ever understand them. No matter how many people you put in my way on the way to the grocery store to spy on me.

That's the real anger there. I've written here for almost a decade in some form. There's accounts I've been friends with forever that I don't know beyond Tumblr. And then there's people who just magically pop back into your life like they never lost access with the help of undercover police they get their drugs from. People who literally know every sick nuance and truth behind every lie people say about me. And they just act like it doesn't happen apparently trapped behind the psyche locked in their coke mirror. I don't have problems with people who party responsibly. But we all know how deep people can get wrapped up into the lies, social scenes, and personal hierarchies of cliques and their excesses. Chicago is worse in this respect because it's a trap. No one can leave this police state. The police walk around and lead people on leashes trying to infiltrate your life when they've been actively surveilled trying to fuck it up without a warrant. I've been sitting here for three years while this happened in ways I wrote about, described and even reported to the authorities. And nothing happens. I'm left to infer that democracy and justice don't work. And I look on the tv and am reminded that it doesn't in very downhill displays of shock and horror. What happens when I'm beat unconscious by five police for complaining about them blocking the crosswalk I walk on for the ninth time? I already suffered through dealing with authority and ruin. And I wrote about it here and watched people secretly retaliate against me in public for the shit I just journaled. What is someone from my past going to learn more about other than participating in the gaper's block? You gonna offer me a minimum wage part time job at your store? You gonna sell me black market vape carts because the police told you I was going to the dispensary again. You gonna cry because I'm the only motherfucker who has love enough for reality to tell you that you don't even remotely live in it? Honestly, I am an adult who has seen other adults out here act worse than children. Myco zombies interconnected in a mass of chemicals, bad decisions and a refusal to face themselves in the mirror. I'm not like a lot of people out here. I wake up at five and keep asking questions only to have people actively follow me around like plague ridden rats in the street. None of it makes sense. And all of it just gets messier and messier. They know you are on your way out. And they both want to break you and drain you of cash before you make it. They can't stand to see you escape the wrath of their God. And also want to psychologically manipulate you with the help of tax payer dollars in an effort to address neighborhood violence. All it seems like to me is a fog like hell that I only tolerate because I care about some people in this world. I don't give a fuck about the past or the people out here. I would much rather find a job and move. But instead I'm here draining my retirement being fucked with by cops, gang bangers, and worse. I make due. I pay rent six days before it's due. And I don't have any civil rights to speak of. That's no exaggeration. So why does it persist? Why is it just an inside joke that I'm pretty much the only one going to survive the horror show out there because I stayed away from it? I couldn't bother to write about it to explain it anymore. But it is at its breaking point. And I'm just figuring out cheaper ways to enjoy my coffee in peace.

I've always just been one guy on the internet. When somebody interacts with me in my dash and I wonder? It's just me in my kitchen wondering about it. I don't tell my parents. I don't discuss what it means with my friends in real life. I have no friends I trust in real life anymore. That's their problem not mine. I may talk about it online a week later. But nobody in real life has any access to me emotionally whatsoever. They try and they have an agenda outside of their own personal shit that they compromised on. And I often wonder what kind of desperation would lead someone to believe after all I've written that I'd be interested in giving this situation around here the benefit of the doubt. I don't want to be trapped in America and be disaster porn for some revolutionary dickheads with trust funds. I have a lot of things I could be paid for. I have a twenty three year resume that people ignore everywhere except China. I hear people sit in front of cameras and make promises to people who don't even confront the real world outside of a pundit or television camera. And I just sit here being ignored on one hand. On the other, it gives me a lot of time to focus on people who actually communicate with me. And sometimes communication on here can be a bit nuanced itself. I get that people play their cards close to their chest. I get that I'm going to pay another forty dollars for ad free on Tumblr to avoid being targetted personally by the ads. What people out there don't seem to get is that there is a limit. You can fuck with someone so long before it becomes your albatross. You can talk shit about someone so many years that it becomes the only thing you say. Without my name in your mouth you don't have a point. You are worthless and nothing. You can't even come up with an idea unless you have me as a target to kick around. And that becomes all you are known for. Fucking with me. Your entire life at the end of it flashes before you. And it's all me whinging about how you spent your entire life trying to prove something about me you failed at. And you die right there. With my monotone voice explaining to you I told you so. I was right about me all along. That is confidence motherfucker. And I'm growing ever more confident every day that this is the reality you wish upon yourself wishing ill on me. I am a dead end. Look at me after all these years. You can't even fucking understand three paragraphs written this long. You keep trying to insert yourself into my dialog like you wrote the story. This city is simply a chapter for me. A particularly shitty chapter that leads to an exodus some day of sorts. Where I can write these over coffee across the table from someone. For now, you are in my heart like you always have been. I'm just trying to deal with wasting away. And one day it is going to be too late. For now, there's a lot of gabber records on my shelf to sell. <3 Tim

[heliads]

The Hearts of the Hopeless

You are utterly in love with Pietro Maximoff, but he’s an Avenger, and way out of your league. Pietro is utterly in love with Y/N L/N, but she’s an effortlessly cool S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and completely beyond him. However, they may reveal certain truths after one jealousy-filled night at a local bar.

masterlist

If you glance over to your right ever so slightly, eyes narrowed to see through the halfway opened door, you can just manage to see him. He’s leaning against a wall, watching the last couple of minutes of a S.H.I.E.L.D. debriefing. You’re not surprised that he isn’t seated- you don’t think the guy could ever stay still for longer than a couple of seconds. Those happen to be the downsides of moving faster than anyone else around you- you tend to get bored fairly quickly.

Of course you’re thinking about Pietro Maximoff, and of course your eye just happens to fall on him when you’re supposed to be running through some paperwork. But there’s a veritable mountain of forms in front of you, and the man is just a few feet away, so how were you ever supposed to focus? You’re not sure when your little crush developed, but you are sure that it is absolutely, wholly, one hundred percent going to ruin your life. How could it not? Pietro Maximoff is an Avenger, an enhanced speed demon, a smooth-talking flirt who manages to turn your world upside down with just a flash of a smile. You are a perfectly normal S.H.I.E.L.D. officer whose only talent is finding ways to get distracted from doing her paperwork.

You can still remember when you first met him. You had been the leader of a squad of S.H.I.E.L.D. reinforcements sent to help the Avengers out of a situation that had gone south. You had thrown yourself into the thick of the fighting as required, and made eye contact with him for the first time after taking a few shots at retreating enemy agents. Your heart had done a little flip in your chest, and you’d hurried to adjust your gun as an excuse for why you had suddenly stopped dead in your tracks, unable to divert your attention back to the literal battle raging around you.

You weren’t sure what Pietro thought of you other than that you were just another agent. He certainly saw dozens of them per day as an Avenger, yet you had a slight advantage over the other lovesick interns because of your friendship with the Avengers. You’d been close friends with Natasha Romanoff ever since the two of you were stuck on a tough assignment that everyone else was too scared to even attempt. Despite all the dangers, you two had fought together and had each other's backs more times than you could count. After that, it was practically impossible to not see her as a friend. Just like it was practically impossible to not find your eyes catching on Pietro whenever you were spending time over at Avengers Tower, or even now, when you should be focusing on your forms.

You sigh to yourself. Hopeless. You’re so completely, utterly hopeless.

Pietro should be focusing on the debriefing. He should be nodding in understanding with the other agents, he should be scanning the data files for the appropriate information, and he should definitely not be smiling to himself over the fact that he can just make out the form of S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Y/N L/N through a door that had been thankfully left ajar by some blessed intern.

She’s sitting at her desk, fingers tapping slightly in concentration as she studies a set of forms corresponding to her latest assignment. They share the same habit, actually, of always needing to be doing something. Except whenever Y/N does it she seems like a confident, action-oriented secret agent, and when Pietro does it, he seems like an easily bored sprinter. If he had even a fraction of her cool, he could practically take over the world.

Pietro can still remember the first time he saw her. It was at some battle with the Avengers, when they were outnumbered ten to one. Pietro is used to impossible odds, but that one fight had been too stacked against them so Cap had called in the S.H.I.E.L.D. reinforcements. At first, Pietro had been annoyed. Why ask S.H.I.E.L.D. for help? He knew there would be some greasy nobody in charge, who’d bristle at taking Stark’s orders and just be a hindrance.

But then the doors to the quinjet had burst open, and a young woman had strode purposefully down the landing, gun already raised and taking aim. Every move seemed orchestrated, every step and attack a work of art. She hadn’t actually noticed him until they’d been fighting side by side, and then she’d looked up at him and it was like time stopped moving entirely. She had the most beautiful eyes, and when they’d met his gaze Pietro felt like he couldn’t move a muscle, even at normal speed.

She, apparently, had been just fine, and casually readjusted her weapon before continuing on with the fight. Pietro was left with a stupid little smile on his face until a bullet had come screaming his way, and then he was jolted back to reality in time to dodge the projectile. Still, he couldn’t help sneaking glances her way during the entire fight. She was just so effortless, so amazing. Y/N claims to be human, but Pietro is fairly sure that her secret superpower is pure and utter perfection. How else would she manage to be that amazing?

Pietro looks up as people start filing out of the room, and he realizes that the debriefing has concluded. He lingers for a moment longer, wanting to catch one last glimpse of Y/N, but the other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents are blocking the door. Pietro reaches to the table in front of him to collect his things, and when he looks up again, his sister is standing in front of him, a triumphant smirk on her face. “You know, I’m fairly sure we were supposed to be focusing on the mission reports, not the pretty agent next door.”

Pietro rolls his eyes. “You know, I appreciate you wanting to have twin quality time, but I was assuming the first thing you said wasn’t going to be making fun of me.” Wanda laughs. “You’re hopeless. What else can I talk about? You’re practically obsessed with her.” Pietro gives her a look. “You can’t tease me about that. Aren’t you the one who’s in love with a robot? You could swap him out for one of Stark’s suits and it would pretty much be the same.” Wanda frowns, but can’t keep her grin back for longer than a couple of seconds. “Are you trying to say I’ve gone crazy for falling in love with an android?” Pietro grins. “Honestly, you might have already.” Wanda huffs out an irritated breath. “At least I can focus on a debriefing when he’s in the same room as me. I mean, what would it take for you to pay attention? For her to be the one addressing everyone?”

Pietro holds up his hands in defense. “Alright, alright. I get it. I’m in love with Y/N. Have you made your point clear, or do you want to keep going?” Wanda smirks. “I’m here to offer advice. I heard Natasha’s going to ask around and see if anyone’s up to get drinks. That includes you, but most importantly, it includes Y/N. This is your shot.” Pietro glances back towards that open door, where he can still see Y/N sitting at her desk, a slight frown on her face as she considers the document in front of her. “I’ll ask her. You don’t have to worry about that.”

It’s not like he could do anything differently. Wanda is right- Pietro is absolutely hopeless.

You’ve just managed to finish off your work when Natasha appears in your doorway. She knocks once on the open door frame and you smile at her. “What’s new with you?” Natasha walks in, grinning at you from across your desk. “Actually, you should ask what’s new with us. Specifically, the fact that we are both going to that one bar that opened up recently. It’s just a couple of blocks down- the Amber Cup or something?  Anyways, we’re going to go and we’re going to have a great time.”

You laugh quietly. “You know, when people try to make plans with me they usually ask first. Do I have a choice in this?” “Absolutely not. We’re going.” Nat says, and you stand up, stretching your legs. “Sounds good. I’ll be there.” There’s another knock at your door, and you look over to see Pietro standing there, leaning casually against the doorframe. You smile and wave him in, doing your best to keep your heart rate under control.

Pietro walks over to you, eyes brightening when he realizes that you were leaving your desk. “Have you finished your work? Good. I wanted to see if you might be interested in joining me and other friends at that new bar later tonight. I’d love to see you there.” Natasha rolls her eyes. “I already asked, but good try. She’s going.” Pietro tosses a mock frown her way. “Do you always have to ruin my attempts to ask people out?” Natasha grins, making her way towards the door. “Only when they’re my best friends.”

At times like this, you’re not sure whether or not you’re happy that Natasha made it here first. If Pietro had asked you when you were alone, you’re not sure you could have pulled yourself together long enough to give a seemingly unconcerned response.

Pietro feels like he’s about to kill Natasha. He was minutes away from asking Y/N out. Seconds, even. He’s never been slow for anything but yet on the most important event of his life, Nat managed to beat him to Y/N’s office. He can’t stand it.

The bar itself is modern and somewhat large. Pietro and his friends arrive later at night, grateful for the rush of people already crammed together on the dance floor. Large crowds make it easier to go out undetected, and being noticed for your Avenger status tends to draw either enemies or crazed followers. Neither is really what Pietro’s going for right now.

Pietro’s just mulling over a drink when someone slides into the space next to him on the bar. He turns with a start when he realizes it’s Y/N. He promised himself that he wasn’t going to stare, but Y/N looks absolutely gorgeous. Maybe it’s the drink already in his hand, alcohol already lighting fire to the back of his throat, but Pietro is certain that Y/N could outshine every single girl in this club. Maybe even all of New York.

They talk for a little while, and then Y/N disappears to go find Natasha. Pietro tries not to feel disappointed at her sudden absence, and allows himself to get distracted by the blonde woman in the too-short dress who quickly takes Y/N’s spot. However, his gaze keeps flickering back to one agent in particular, no matter what he does. Pietro’s heart seems to clench when he realizes she’s taken to the dance floor, paired up with some man with dark hair gelled back slightly in a more modern look. 

As he watches, the man’s hands drift to her hips. Pietro has no right to feel angry or anything, he knows that, but there’s a definite bitter taste in his mouth that wasn’t there before. He should turn away and go back to the half-empty glass in front of him, but Pietro’s already had more than enough to drink. Instead, he can’t seem to let go of the sight in front of him.

Pietro has a feeling that he’s about to do something he shouldn’t, that his feelings are finally going to get the best of him. He isn’t sure that he minds.

You spend more time than you should on your hair and makeup and outfit, checking and double checking to make sure the heels match the dress and the accessories. You don’t get to go out and have fun that often due to your busy schedule, so you intend to take full advantage of tonight. Besides, if Pietro is there it won’t exactly hurt to look good. You know you’re just fooling yourself into thinking he’ll notice you, but what if he does? He did show up to ask you to the bar, didn’t he?

You end up arriving a little later than the rest of the group due to traffic, but your eye instantly catches on Pietro. He’s talking and laughing with friends, and turns aside to order a drink from a bartender. You take advantage of his break from conversation to slip into the place beside him. He greets you casually, and you order a drink for yourself before heading over to find Natasha. He was just in the middle of talking to people, right? He probably doesn’t want you to stay for that long.

This seems to be true- you’ve barely been next to Natasha for a couple of minutes when you see that someone else has taken your place next to Pietro. It’s some beautiful blonde woman, who makes Pietro laugh with just a few brief words. You can’t help but feel an overwhelming wave of sadness wash over you at the sight. How could you think you were enough for him, especially compared to her?

You must still be feeling the aftereffects of a couple of drinks and that sight, because you head to the center of the room, intending to dance your worries away and at least attempt to have a good time. You’re joined by a dark-haired man soon after, and you pretend not to notice when his hands wrap around your hips, dipping lower by the second. Why bother? At least now you can try to move on from Pietro, to act like he can be replaced by another man in a blink of an eye. It’s not true, but at least the pounding music distracts you from him.

Suddenly, your partner is ripped away from you. You’re left standing on the dance floor, blinking in confusion at the sudden empty space in front of you. When you look up, your brow furrows to find Pietro, still standing in between you and the dark-haired man from where he’d pushed your partner away. The man glares at Pietro. “Hey, what was that for?” Pietro returns his gaze coolly. “Don’t touch her like that. She deserves some respect.”

Then he turns back to you, and a thousand emotions seem to flicker through his eyes before he walks away, headed towards an exit out back. Your confusion is quickly replaced by anger. Why does he think he can just walk up and control you like that? You mutter a brief apology to your dance partner before storming after Pietro. Eventually, you find him outside, taking in the crisp air of the outside street. He looks up when you open the door, but he seems confused by your angry expression. You don’t give him time to ask what is wrong.

“What was that?” You ask, gesturing loosely towards the bar behind you. Pietro looks away from you, back at the crowded streets. “He shouldn’t have been putting his hands on you like that. He was a creep.” You laugh bitterly. “That wasn’t your call to make. Can’t I have this one night, this one hour to myself? I mean, you rub it in my face practically every day. Did you really have to take this one dance away from me?”

Pietro frowns at you. “What are you talking about?” You look at him in disbelief. “Are you really pretending you don’t know? I see you around the building all the time, flirting with any girl that crosses your path. I don’t know why I thought I was different, but I figured I deserved at least a little respect. I mean, first you don’t talk to me unless you have to, then you pull some stunt like pretending to ask me out to the bar. You want to play with my heart? Fine, but at least let me have this one night.”

Your hand flies to your mouth. Did you really just say all that? You must have drunk more than you’d thought. Pietro is just staring at you, shocked, and you start to back away. “I didn’t mean- I didn’t-” Then he’s standing in front of you, one hand pressed against the small of your back as he kisses you. He leans back, looking at you with something almost like disbelief. “I’m not trying to play with your heart, Y/N. I’m trying to avoid breaking mine.”

Your eyes widen. “You-” He nods. “I love you. I just assumed that you wouldn’t want anything to do with me, so I tried to play it off like it didn’t matter.” You shake your head slowly. “Why wouldn’t I want anything to do with you? You’re the Avenger, I’m the agent. I thought you didn’t even have the time to talk to me.” Pietro laughs quietly. “Ever since the moment I saw you, I thought you were the most amazing person on the planet. Everything you did seemed flawless, and every impossible task seemed easy. And who was I to you, some guy whose only skill was running fast?”

You feel an incredulous smile slipping across your face. “You were incredible. That’s who you were to me. I was hopelessly in love with you. Still am, and I don’t think I can do anything about that.” “Don’t. I like the idea of you loving me.” Pietro says, and he leans forward to kiss you one more time.

Maybe things have a way of working out after all.

[script-nef]

An actual break | Gojou Satoru

Category: fluff

2.6k words; Beach date [4/6]

← Previous chapter | Masterlist

You haven’t been to the beach in months. So a car trip for hours, where you can blank out and peer out of the window to enjoy the wonderful and ever-changing scenery is amazing. Dipping your feet in the water or eating from food vendors or enjoying the warm summer sun on your skin. Perhaps getting a tan if the weather is perfect. This would all be perfectly enjoyable and possible.

If it wasn’t for work.

“[Surname]-san, why are you coming with us? You said you can’t fight.” Itadori calls from the backseat, nestled not-so-comfortably between Fushiguro and Kugisaki. 

Wouldn’t it be better if Kugisaki is in the middle since she’s the smallest and the skinniest? The thought drifts into your head but you soon understand why. As soon as the words leave his mouth it’s met with a firm and resounding slap on the arm. Itadori’s yelp of pain is silenced under her hiss of “God, you’re so tactless! Now move over, it’s getting cramped with all of the bags.” Ah, she didn’t want to sit in the middle. And what bags? I didn’t bring any.

They keep their banter up and a quick glance to both Gojou and Fushiguro indicates that they have no intention of stopping it. Gojou is actually humming through the bickering. Why do I have to be the adult? He’s like, 5 years older than me. That’s literally what he said as the reason to drive instead of you. 

“It’s fine, Kugisaki-san. I’m coming along because there’s been a lot of cursed spirit activity around here and I need to see if something abnormal is happening. I’m not going to get in the way of the fight so you don’t need to worry.” You send Itadori a smile through the back mirror which he responds with a quick nod, then a confused look.

“Isn’t that Gojou-sensei’s responsibilities?” The mentioned adult laughs and smoothly makes a right turn. You want to slap him.

“Normally, yes, but he insists on being insufferable.” You turn to face them, leaning onto the seat with a scowl. “The report he made was nearly illegible and last time something like this happened, and I had to sit down with him for 3 hours to complete it. Even then, he was going off topic half the time and trying to distract me. Itadori-kun, Kugisaki-san, listen to me. If he doesn’t do his work, you have to practically force him.”

“Doesn’t work.” Fushiguro comments while looking out the window. Gojou has the audacity to laugh again.

“We had a great time! You were laughing your head off by the time we were done.” A light tug on your shirt makes you sit back properly. The scowl stays in place.

“I missed dinner! And I missed the last episode of Haikyuu thanks to that!”

“Fine, fine. I’ll take it up by buying you dinner, okay?” He must be kidding if that makes up for missing your favourite anime. Kuroo came and went thanks to him. The car comes to an abrupt stop just as you’re about to complain again. “We have arrived!”

Salt wafts in the air as the sea twinkles underneath the afternoon sun. It’s hot today, and humid enough to make your clothes stick to your skin, which is gross. Sunny and warm means a swim will be ideal, but you have to take care of the whole recurring curses thing first. Previous reports have said that they were all mid-level, so hopefully Gojou’s students won’t have that much of a problem taking care of them. That also means they, including you as well, might have the opportunity to relax for the rest of the day. 

The actual spot is somewhere in the nearby forest, filled thick with trees and so large that even if someone went missing it would take ages to search. An ideal hunting place since a lot of people visit there. Numbers dropped quite a bit after the fifth person “went missing”. 

The first task is to cover the place with a curtain. Since the place is so large and not encompassing the entire place was deemed too risky, large amounts of cursed energy is required. Hence Gojou’s efforts right now.

“[Name]-san.” Kugisaki calls you. “Are you coming in with us?” Her voice is tentative, like she doesn’t want to offend you. It’s kind of funny because she shows more respect for you than her actual teacher for some reason. Gojou complained about it before. She doesn’t know the extent, or more accurately the lack of, your powers and has a right to be worried. All she knows is that you can’t fight. 

“Ah, I am coming in, but I’ll stay far away from the fight. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“And I’ll be right by her side!” Gojou snaps into thin air, linking his arm with yours.  “Your personal bodyguard! But I’m sure you guys can handle this one.” Still humming a tune, he sends them along their way with a reassuring smile. You smile at Kugisaki and wish her good luck. Shooting Gojou a suspicious glare, she runs ahead to the two boys and starts whispering. They look back at the two of you and get into what seems to be an argument. A bad thing to do right before a possibly life-threatening mission.

You watch the group disappear deeper into the woods, fear gripping at your heart. This is actually the first time in the field after years of being tucked away in an office. Ken-chan specifically requested it due to your unique cursed energy situation. Apparently that was the first time he asked for a favour to the principle and he never asked for anything again. They can handle themselves, you’re sure, but Itadori already had a close call.

“Worried?” Gojou, on the other hand, sounds like he has no concerns in the world. Maybe that’s a testament to how much he trusts his students. It doesn’t alleviate your agitation. “It’s fine, we can just take a break here and if trouble comes, they can take care of it themselves.” You stare at him incredulously. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! I’ll step in if something goes wrong. You’re all in safe hands.”

There is no one better than him in terms of fighting with cursed energy. How on earth someone like this gets imbued with endless power, you’ll never know. Sighing, you take a seat on a fallen log. The moss on them tickles your fingers. It feels nice, something to distract you from your brain being its usual bastard and thinking the worst case scenario. Gojou plops himself down right next to you. 

“We can go see them if you’re that worried, mother hen.” Nudging his leg shuts him up. Closing your eyes, you concentrate on reaching out for their cursed energy. Eight signals flicker from where they went, three blazing stronger than the others. One of them is nearly blinding. Sukuna is on a completely different level. If there’s that much of a difference in energy, they’ll finish soon and come back to have fun for the rest of the day. God knows they need it.

Your eyes flit open and come face to face with Gojou’s blindfold. It causes you to fall backwards and you brace for impact with a little yelp. But Gojou’s arm surrounds your abdomen, lifting you into the air and onto your feet. Heartbeats thud in your ears thanks to the sudden adrenaline boost.

“Did I scare you?” His laugh is cheeky. “I’m bored… Wanna play 20 questions?” As usual, his train of thought is impossible to even attempt to follow. A window of hundreds of tabs wrestling to be the first all the time is probably what the inside of his mind looks like.

“Sure, why not.”

Fushiguro, Itadori and Kugisaki all perk up when they receive the news of a day off to enjoy the beach. Since it’s closed off to the civilians, it’ll be like a private party. Something to keep their mind off of another mission that’s bound to come soon.

While they run off to the beach, you go to talk to the park rangers for the paperwork. Gojou asks if you want company but someone needs to supervise the children. The process takes barely 10 minutes anyway.

When you come back to the beach, the trio is screaming in the sea while trying to fight each other. Even Fushiguro is laughing. Childlike innocence is beautiful and long overdue. Two huge parasols and towels are laid out nearby where they’re playing. Gojou is out of his usual attire and in a swimming trunk. His blindfold is still on. Is this what was in the bags?

Now that you look more closely at the students, they’re all in swimwear as well. Looks like you’re the only one that didn’t get a memo. 

“Heya! Done?”  

“No thanks to you, Mr The-Whole-Reason-I’m-Here-In-The-First-Place.” He laughs at the nickname. 

“You should change.”

“I didn’t bring a swimsuit. Nobody told me and I was just thinking of dipping my feet.”

“Nobara brought you one. It’s in the bag labelled ‘If you look inside I’m going to kill you.’” Laughter comes out at the absurdity.

“Why did Kugisaki—”

“Because she wants you to relax. Now come on! Let’s have fun!” he pushes you excitedly towards the car. It’s really weird how someone your senior has more energy than you and his three students combined. Sighing, you trek back and find the bag. It really is labelled that, in caps. Kugisaki is a good kid. 

There’s a bathroom nearby for you to change in. The wind is still pretty strong when you walk out but you’re saved thanks to the school jacket. There’s also a pair of flip-flops. Ken-chan must have helped since they all fit perfectly. 

Itadori is being half-drowned when you come back. Fushiguro and Kugisaki are merciless when it comes to fighting. Gojou smiles as you walk into his line of sight. Scooting over to let you into the shade, he lies back onto the towel and stretches his legs out into the sun with a slight groan. You stay sitting up, watching the three children absentmindedly. 

Sunlight tickles your feet. The sea breeze stops it from being too hot but it’s slowly getting stuffier under the jacket. Quickly discarding it, Gojou catches your eyes while you fold it up.

It’s impossible to tell if he’s awake or sleeping thanks to his signature blindfold, but this is the most relaxed you’ve seen him in years; hands folded behind his head and muscles completely loose. Small scars dot his body, probably gained from fights which he deemed insignificant enough to bother Shouko with or heal himself. In a way, it’s a reminder for all the battles he’s survived. Pretty easily too, you’re guessing. There’s a deep one on his stomach and your hand moves towards it for some reason.

Long fingers intercept your hand just before it touches the scratched skin, entwining themselves to you. One end of Gojou’s lips quirks up. 

“I’m going to be embarrassed if you keep looking at my body, you know.” You immediately attempt to rip your hand back but he’s got you locked tight. He’s not even using Infinity. Heat threatens to explode your face because he’s been awake all this time and you’re going to die from shame. “If you wanted to touch me then you could have just asked.” Your fingers graze against the skin on his stomach for a split second but he loosens his grip and you will be damned if you don’t take that chance. 

Gojou cackles, enjoying your flustered state, and he’s halfway to suffocation because he’s laughing too much. His instincts still allow him to move out of the way for your punch. Doesn’t stop him from laughing though. Even his students, who were screaming and playing like they didn’t have a care in the world, are looking at the two of you. God, where’s a hole for me to die in right now?

Eventually, his laughter dies off. He’s still chuckling though. His teeth glint in the light as he gives you a wide smile. A sense of foreboding washes over you. 

“Up we go!”

“What?” Two arms hook under your knees and back, lifting you effortlessly into the air. Your body bounces in his arms every time he takes a step closer to the sea.

“Wait Gojou, wait wait wait wait!” 

“Gojou-sensei wai—” 

The water is freezing. 

“Gojou Satoru, I’m going to kill you!”

“That’s admirable! I’m sure you can do it!” Fushiguro snickers as you swipe an arm at Gojou, who moves away effortlessly again. Hair is plastered to your face and this rage is not going to subside unless you rip the blindfold off his smirking face and dunk his head into the water. But he keeps dodging you, just barely, as if to taunt you further.

Exhaustion sets in quickly since moving around in water is a lot harder and anger eats away at your stamina. Just as you’re about to give up, Gojou’s face is slapped with a wave of water. Everyone looks to Kugisaki. She has the biggest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Pfft.” Fushiguro’s laughter breaks the silence. Itadori snickers at Gojou’s drooping hair. Soon everyone’s laughing. Then Gojou whips water that hits all three of them straight in the chest with a resounding smack. They immediately retaliate with a wave that you get caught up in. 

It somehow turns into a students vs adults fight. Delighted laughter echoes in the air as everyone yells and shrieks when assaulted with icy water. There’s an unspoken rule to not use cursed energy, which is why your side is being pushed back. There’s no beating three excited kids when they’re on a holiday high. 

Backtracking a bit to get away from the constant surges of water, you don’t realise you’re going deeper and deeper into the sea. A rock shifts underneath your feet and you’re plunged into the cold grips of the sea, not even given enough time to call for help. Panic overtakes your senses as you squeeze your eyes shut, hands scrambling for something to hold onto. 

“[Name]!” Warmth engulfs you as Gojou lifts you out of the murky depth, worry and dread weaved into his voice. You blink rapidly as he gently brushes the hair off your face, and you see his eyes without the blindfolds for the first time. “Look at me, are you alright?”

They’re… indescribably beautiful. It’s the purest and translucent blue you’ve seen in your life, able to beat the colour of the ocean or the sky on its clearest days. It could compete with even the most exquisite sapphire locked up in a vault underground. And they’re clouded with concern and fear because of you.

“[Surname]-san!” Bringing yourself up by hugging Gojou’s neck, you see the trio wading through the water to you, dread clear on their faces. Itadori reaches you and rapidly asks if you’re fine and that he can’t possibly describe how sorry he is. It looks like he’ll dig his head into the ocean floor if you ask him to do it. Like he’s waiting for you to reprimand him.

But all that comes out is laughter, bright and childlike. They all look at you like you’re crazy. You have no idea why you’re laughing either. Maybe you’ve finally gone insane.

But being in Gojou’s arms, seeing his and Itadori’s face relax, brings you so much happiness. Tightening your arms around Gojou’s neck, you rest your head on top of his as he calms them down. 

Maybe it’s the adrenaline from nearly drowning, maybe it’s something else, but your heart thumps rapidly into your ribcage, probably loud enough for him to feel.

Next chapter →

[thedemonstherapist]

Tension Solution

Summary: “I think this tension between us needs resolving. Be that with swords against each other’s necks or in my bed. You decide”. 

Wordcount: ~4,2K

Pairing: Kaeya Alberich x GN! Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Enemies to Lovers, Sexual innuendos, Small mentions of blood

Author’s Note: Here it is! My Kaeya enemies to fuckers piece. A huge thank you to @gnocchi-ghoul​ for Beta reading this for me! I had such fun writing this, and you all know I’m a sucker for some good tensioned sworfighting, and this smug bastard has been on my mind ever since starting to play the game. I know this is not my usual content, but I write when I want, about who I want, ok? I’ve had so little inspiration over the past months that I’ve got to take chances like these and go with them.

Banner is not mine! If you know who to credit it to, let me know, I couldn’t find it!

There he came again. That stupid coin between his fingers, flung into the air at random intervals. That stupid grin softening his face, cheerful greetings echoing through the noisy hall. Oh, and above all, that tremendously stupid way his eyes find you immediately, just trying to do your work.

You lower your gaze, pressing your pen down onto paper with renewed determination. Jean and her new open doors policy be damned, you couldn’t wait to slam it in his face. Of course it’s the last few minutes of visiting hours that he decides to come back from his commission. Three blissful weeks of calm while he was stationed out near the Liyue border, no comments, no irksome remarks, no-

“Don’t tell me you’re too busy to greet me”. 

You sigh. Kaeya observes you with his arms crossed, casually lent against the doorframe. His sword is still strapped to his back, droplets of water running down the blade, and he clearly hasn’t gone to take a shower yet, covered in dirt, mud and sporadic dried blood. 

“Captain”. You can’t help your displeasured tone. “I see you’re back”. 

“Inspector”. He raises a brow in retaliation. “I sent a notice stating my return three days ago”. 

“Oh, that”. You pick the unintelligible letter from your desk with two fingers, holding it at an arm’s length. “Apparently your messenger didn't go for a swim on the way here. Could you confirm?”

His jaw tightens momentarily, as you note with satisfaction, but it doesn’t deter the grin. “You should be used to my handwriting by now”. 

You place it back on your desk with contempt. “I am not. Hopefully your report to Jean is a little more… readable”. 

He shrugs, beginning to peel off his gloves. “She’s never complained about it”. 

Taking a deep breath, you try to calm yourself down. Kaeya tends to make you irrationally angry, and no, it wasn’t just the absolute nonchalante recklessness he treated his position and commissions with. You couldn’t count the times he’d risked more than his own life in battle, somehow always managing to pull it off in the last second. And of course, that was his surefire way to getting out of trouble, no matter how much Jean grilled him for it afterwards.

“Go clean up”. You try your best to make your dismissal abundant, leaning back over your work. “You’re dripping water on my carpet”. 

“Oh, we’re touchy today, aren’t we?” Kaeya’s grin widens into a smirk, pushing himself off the frame. “Did Fawks hit on you during your patrols again?” 

“That’s none of your business”. You shoot him a glare, tapping your nails impatiently. As if you still had the opportunity to go out on patrols, you’d been holed up in your office pretty much ever since becoming Inspector. You wished you could get out again, your body had been aching for some action for weeks, but he was the last person you’d ever confess that to.

Kaeya hums lightly, and instead of exiting, takes another step into the office. His eyes wandered your shelves with staged disinterest, but you knew he was looking for something to use as ammunition.

“I’m assuming you couldn’t hear me” you state, sarcasm adding a bite to your tone. “I told you to clean up. You look like you haven’t seen soap since leaving Mondstadt”. 

“Oh, Y/N, always so worried about my appearance” he muses, drawing closer to your desk. God, you hated that stupid cat-like expression he bore, so sly and pretentious. “I’d be more worried about yourself, frankly”. 

“I’m not playing these games, Kaeya”, you reply sharply, fingers tightening around your pen. “Go take a damn shower, and stop ruining my carpet. I don’t know why your immediate goal seems to piss me off, but I’d like to maintain some level of professional dignity between us”. 

He rolls his eyes. “By Barbatos, you really are wound up today. I doubt that’s just my fault”. 

“Be delusional, then”. You shake your head. “I don’t think Jean would appreciate another formal complaint, so do her the favour, if not for me, and get out of my office”. 

“Fine”. He turns around, but not before throwing you another glance, and damn it, you know he has one last trick up his sleeve, just by the way he says it. “However, before I forget-”. 

“What?”

“You’re pre-reading my report for Jean. Her orders”. 

---

“... and that bastard didn't even take the time to brief me about the mission outcome, the entire time he was dirtying up my office!” You end your rant with an angry flourish, slamming your hand down on the table. “I don’t know what he intended with that whole interaction, he just likes making my day so much worse!” 

Your friend chuckles, stirring her drink idly, an ocean of calm in comparison to your raging fury. “Man, if we weren’t close, I would never guess Kaeya to be such a pain in the ass. Each time I’ve encountered him he’s been so chivalrous and kind”. 

“He just can’t keep it in his pants”. You cross your arms, sitting back in your chair with a huff. “If you ever end up in his bed, I will personally hunt him down”. 

She laughs. “Oh, don’t worry, I won’t put you in that position”. 

“I just don’t understand it”. You run a hand through your hair, glancing around the tavern. It was unusually crowded for a Thursday night, you’d been lucky to get your usual table. “Why he has this stupid grudge against me. We used to be normal colleagues, back when we were both only trainee’s and officers, but then one day the switch flipped and it’s like we can’t stand the sight of each other ever since. The worst thing is, he has every last person in Mondstadt wrapped around his finger! So nobody understands my frustration!”

“First of all, Diluc exists. Second of all, aren’t you higher ranking than him?” she asks, and you regretfully shake your head. 

“No, Captains and Inspectors are on the same level. I personally didn't feel ready to be a leader in combat situations, so I passed on the opportunity. Now I miss active commissions so much, my poor sword is nothing more than an ancient relic at this point”. 

“Surely, you’ll still be sent out?” 

“I don’t have a command, the only times I might be are on extraordinarily dangerous or sizable sightings, or for assistance to Captains. Rue the day I get sent out with Kaeya”. You shudder at the thought. “That would end in total disaster”. 

“So you really have no idea why Kaeya began to dislike you so suddenly?” your friend inquires, tilting her head aside. You shake yours. “And there wasn’t some kind of incident that caused this?” 

“Not that I know of”.

A grin spreads over her face. “Hey, you ever considered that he likes you a little too much for his own good?” 

“That’s some misogynistic bullshit”, you snort. “Guys are rude to people because they like them, yeah right. That’s just trying to normalise shitty behaviour in the name of quote-on-quote love”. 

“I know that”. She gives you an exasperated look. “But… you have to admit that the two of you have some serious chemistry”. 

“What are you even talking about?” you question, downing the rest of your drink. 

“Every time you two interact”. She raises a brow knowingly. “Remember that time you were bickering on patrol through Mondstadt? I swear, even without a vision, I could see sparks between the two of you, and I wasn’t the only one, you got the entire town talking. You get on each other’s nerves because you have some unresolved tension you need to work out, and neither of you wants to admit it”. 

“Shut up”. Your cheeks suddenly feel suspiciously warm, and you firmly decide it’s the alcohol. “Fine, Kaeya’s attractive, but he’s so fucking annoying because he knows that. He messes with me ‘cause he knows how to get in my head, and gets some kind of sadistic pleasure from it”. 

Your friend makes an attempt to interrupt you, but you don’t let her, motioning to her to let you rant. “Let me finish. He was nice enough up until he got that damn ego boost after being promoted, I think, and even then I could still talk to him without the need to stab myself in the eye. He’s just so frustrating, never thinks twice about anything he does, and always gets away with it, plus he has this weird urge to always show off that stupidly toned chest of his and - by the Seven, I hate that idiot smirk of his, and the fact that he’s so damn perfect at his swordsmanship, I can’t even deny how good he is in battle, Jean has said he rivals her, and I despise that he knows he looks good while doing it, he-”

“So, how much longer were you going to let them just talk?” A voice offhandedly asks from behind you, and the blood in your veins turns to ice. Your friend smiles lazily, winking at you. 

“Oh, you know, however long they need. Y/N’s been ranting quite a bit this evening, you really get on their nerves”. 

You whip around, and sure enough, there he is, the cause of this mess. Kaeya has his arms folded, grinning down at you with thinly veiled satisfaction. You’re pretty sure half of the tavern is watching, and your blood turns from freezing to seething within seconds. 

“How long have you been there?” you ask stiffly, glaring at your friend. She pulls an innocent face, leaning back in her seat with performative disinterest. Traitor. 

“Just long enough to hear what I needed to”. Kaeya’s grin is threatening to split his face in half. “You really think I’m that attractive, huh? I never would have guessed”. 

You jump up from your chair, spitting out the first thing that comes to mind. “Fight me”. 

He actually laughs, a few of the tavern occupants joining in. “What? Are you sure you’re not mixing up a couple words there?”

You clench your jaw, deciding to just go with it. “Fight me. Knights of Favonius training ring, tomorrow morning. I’m sick of your attitude”. 

“Oh?” He cocks a brow at you. “I hope you’re ready after wasting away in that office of yours”. 

“I could beat you blindfolded”, you reply presumptuously, mimicking his stance, unable to ignore the fact that he smells a little too good for your tipsy state. At least he finally took your orders. You hold his stare regardless, unwilling to give in.

“Thank the Seven, you’re working this out at last”, your friend sighs, sipping at her drink. “And here I thought you’d take the sexual tension to the grave”. 

Kaeya’s lip twitches in amusement as he extends one hand. “Tomorrow morning at seven. I’ll try not to kill you then, for that sake alone”.

You give him a dirty look, reluctantly shaking his hand. “Your chance of me doing the same is decreasing with every word that leaves your mouth”. 

“I can live with that”. He suddenly leans closer, and before you can pull away, whispers in your ear, sultry tone leaving the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. “You’re going down, darling”. 

Like Hell you are.

---

The training hall is usually relatively empty at this time of day. Some dedicated trainee’s use the morning to get their routine over, but otherwise, not many knights exercise this early. And though at least a few of them must have heard of what happened last night, not many are to be seen. Even if you could live with an audience, you decide this way is perfectly fine, especially in case of the (distinctly undesirable and should-be-impossible outcome) of you losing to him. You’re a bit out of breath from warming up, fixing your shirt before making your way over to the ring.

Kaeya is waiting for you there, clad in athleisure and in the midst of testing out a beginner’s sword. His vision is nowhere to be seen, and you curse him a little for not giving you something more to berate him for. Nevertheless, you straighten up as you approach.

“Good morning”, you greet him nonchalantly, walking over to inspect the racks of weapons. 

A grin flashes across his face as he turns around, wiping the sweat off his brow. “Hello, darling”.

“Sweating already?” You raise a brow at him, deciding to ignore the nickname. “And here I thought I’d have a challenge”. 

Kaeya laughs, rolling out his wrist. “You are cute when you’re acting tough”. Tilting his head aside, he watches you take your pick of one of the swords. The morning light bathes him in a soft glow, falling through the high windows, hair tied up in a messy bun at the back of his head, and- wait. Your cheeks grow hot as you realise what absurd directions your thoughts are heading to. Your friend must have gotten under your skin more than you realised last night. 

Shaking your head a little, you roll your shoulders back and face him head-on. “Whatever makes you feel better. For the rules, as by training code, drawing blood is an immediate end”. 

“No visions, no hits near the head or vital organs, dull blades and stop means stop”, Kaeya counts up calmly, making his way to the center of the ring. His blue eye gleams playfully in the light, and he swings the sword near aimlessly while walking. You grit your teeth at his relaxed manner. He wasn’t taking this seriously at all, huh?

“Don’t worry, Inspector”. He winks as he comes to a halt before you, maintaining the mandated arm’s distance. “I know the rules”. 

“I’d hope so”, you reply, getting into position and watching him do the same. You decide to stir the pot a little, knowing it’s best to get into his head, and feign a smile. “I can’t wait until the rest of the knights hear about how royally I kicked your ass”. 

He laughs lowly, and is immediately on the attack. Anticipating such, after years of observing him in battle, you parry it easily, ducking aside to avoid the next one. You wait until he’s nearly backed you into the corner, ego visibly growing with every move he makes, and take a rolling dive, knocking his legs out from under him with your own. 

He manages to catch himself, and you’re relieved by the split-second of surprise in his expression. You withdraw towards the middle, blowing a stray strand of hair out of your face and, in a rush of adrenalin, smirk at him. “Not so confident now, are we, Captain?”

“You’re not as out of shape as I anticipated”, he counters, slashing his sword through the air as he repositions himself. Brows narrowing playfully, he adds: “It’ll make it more fun to thoroughly take you apart”. 

You don’t give him more time to prepare. Blades crash onto each other as he masterfully deflects your attacks, and it doesn’t take long for the two of you to get out of breath. Neither of you can land a hit, no matter how feasible it seems. He handles the comparatively bulky sword with enviable ease, and you grow frustrated quickly, unable to break through his defences. In turn, you don’t let him back you into any corner, constantly keeping the playing field level and returning every new strike with your own.

“You know what, I’ve missed this”, Kaeya pants, quick to switch hands as you sidestep him, attempting to land a hit on his blinde side. 

“Huh?” is all you can answer in return, deflecting his counter aimed at your back, and darting aside. 

“Training”. He nearly misses the parry, forced to back up if not to risk a blow to his abdomen. “With you”. He shoots you a brash smile, easily twisting out of your range.

You huff, irritated at the fact that he still has the mind to flirt. “Your silver tongue isn’t getting you out of this one”. 

“I meant it”. And of damn course, his tactic worked, the point of his blade sinking into your shoulder. “Remember when we used to practise together?” 

“Before you became a dick, you mean?” you shoot back, attempting an aggressive strike at his lower thigh. Your body is getting sore, heart pounding against your ribcage, breaths coming out short and strained, but despite it all, you’re enjoying this. In any case, you’d rather die than admit to him that you’re having fun. 

You really needed to get out of your office more.

Kaeya laughs, equally exhausted, before advancing at an alarming speed. “I’ll give you that one, darling”. 

Your blades cross, metal clashing loudly, and you can see an opportunity form as he shortly weakens his hold. Rotating your sword in the opposite direction to try and hook beneath his, you’re so distracted by the possibility of disarming him that you don’t notice the satisfaction that washes over his expression as you do. One swift swipe of his foot and you’re falling backwards, weapon nearly ripped from your hand. 

Your back hits the mat with full force, air knocked out of your lungs, causing you to give a strangled gasp. Kaeya is smirking down at you, but he’s as out of breath as you are and there’s sweat soaking his shoulders. You don’t think before you move, so infuriated by the words you know are about to leave his mouth, fingers tightening around the handle. 

The hit against his shins sends him to the ground, but not sideways as planned, instead straight onto you. You don’t have the time or the mind to roll out of the way, and he tries very hard to catch himself, hands landing on either side of you. You yelp as most of his weight hits you, momentarily forgetting what’s even happening. 

 “Fuck”, Kaeya groans, arms shaking as he tries to brace himself. “You like playing dirty, don’t you?” 

Slowly regaining the ability to breathe after nearly being crushed, your eyes dart to see him dangling over you, legs and lower body resting on your own. If anyone hears of this out of context, you’re moving to the other end of Teyvat. He’s panting, no doubt as shocked as you are, strands of his hair tickling your nose. His face is mere inches away from yours, heat seeping through his clothes onto your skin. 

Decidedly too close.

Your blade kissing his throat is a much better sight. You know you’re technically breaking the rules, but the way his eye widens, corners of his mouth twitching and brows raising to the sky is just too good of a picture. 

“Get off me”. You growl, trying to steady yourself with your other hand. 

His laugh sounds astounded, but contrary to your demand, he does not. Instead, his chin juts forward, pressing the metal into his skin for earnest. There’s no blood, of course, all these swords are dulled to near uselessness, but it does leave you speechless at the amount of reckless pride he seems to possess. 

 Kaeya hums, clearly satisfied at your reaction. “I’ll be honest, this is not how I initially pictured you under me”. 

What a smug son of a-

“Oh, fuck off”. Your knee makes contact with his stomach and he rolls off you with a grunt. You scramble to your feet, grimacing at what you're sure will be a bruised tailbone later. He’s already composed himself, twirling his sword idly as you get a proper grip on your own. Looking you up and down, his grin widens into a smirk.

“Though you do look similar to the imaginary aftermath”. 

“I am going to kill you”, you hiss, red flashing before your eyes as you charge at him. Kaeya begins to laugh once more, but it quickly dies down as your moves become more and more aggressive, driving him out of the ring and towards the wall. The thought of whoever may be around again crosses your mind, but honestly, you can’t care about who may be watching, every last bit of strength you have left is focused on Kaeya and his stupid fucking face and the way he evades your strikes with a precision that only leaves to be desired to every onlooker. It makes you want to actually scream. You finally land two hits on him, arms beginning to shake from exhaustion and overwhelming adrenalin. 

But once more, Kaeya catches you off guard. The switch flips just as his leg hits the wall and you’re just beginning to notice your own smile, sure of your victory. His expression darkens, lip caught in his teeth as his eyes narrow down at you. 

Your blades clash as they did before, and of course he uses your own move against you, managing to perfect it. Your sword goes flying to the ground, and the moment you lose your grip is the moment you’re being slammed against the wall that he was nearly backed up against mere seconds ago. The tip of his sword is digging into the soft skin of your throat, positioned perfectly above your Adam's apple. 

Suddenly, it goes very quiet, the silence only interrupted by your laboured breaths. Maybe it’s the fact that he near literally has a knife to your throat, but you can’t tear your eyes away from him. His hand is pressing on your shoulder, pinning you to the wall, keeping you in place. His leg is slotted between yours, barring you from moving an inch. 

For the first time since you’ve met him, you have nothing to do but to admire him. Sweat is making his hair stick to his skin, an exhausted flush upon his dark cheeks. His body is visibly tense, stare boring into yours with a kind of intensity you’ve only ever seen during active combat. There’s nothing unintentional about the way he’s restraining you, nothing hesitant about the placement of the blade against your skin. His chest is heaving, teeth digging into his lip in constrained effort, fingers digging into your shoulder as if expecting you to fight back.

You don’t. 

Instead, you let out a shaky breath. The adrenalin is still surging through you, but you can’t feel the constant urge to punch him in the gut anymore. Huh. Weird. 

“You won”. Your voice is calmer than it ever has been talking to him, accepting of your defeat. Plus, your body is beginning to realise that whatever just happened hurt, and quite a bit at that. You wince, knowing you’re going to need some ice to get through the rest of the day. 

Kaeya shakes his head determinedly, stare not wavering. “You had me in practically the same position less than a minute ago. You could have flipped me over with ease and won. You didn't. That’s the only reason I got you here”. His grip on your shoulder eases up. “We’re equal”. 

Withdrawing the sword from your neck, he takes a step back, relinquishing his hold on you. You feel strangely dazed, automatically reaching to check for cuts on your neck. “I guess?”

“You okay?” He sounds relatively quiet as well, nearly uneasy, which does not fit the overconfident persona he usually bears. Whatever tension there was before has yielded to something more cautious, like strangers navigating their way across broken ice. 

You nod, reaching to pick up your sword. “Fine”. You pause briefly, debating your words before meeting his eye again. “That was… good exercise. Thanks for fighting me”. 

He laughs a little, and you’re taken aback by how much you don’t feel like reacting. What was going on? At the latest after that laugh you’d usually be back at his throat. 

“Sure”. There’s the typical amusement in his face, but his smile is less egregious and smug. It’s… kind? “I’d have no problem repeating it”. 

You raise your shoulders, unsure of what to do now. “I guess… I wouldn’t either?”

“Good”. He runs a hand through his hair in an effort to fix the mess it’s become. You’re beginning to hear the confidence you’re used to re-enter his words, but it doesn’t appear to bother you. “Friday’s at seven, then. We’ll make it a regular thing”.

“Trying to kill each other?” You surprise yourself with the attempt to ease the tension, and why in the world do you have the urge to smile at the sight of his?

“If that’s how you want to see it”. He shrugs, placing his sword back on the racks. Glancing over his shoulder, he regards you for a long moment. “I think your friend is right”. 

“In what regard?” you ask, in principle fully aware of what that expression means for you. 

Kaeya’s shit-eating grin has made its way back onto his face. “I think this tension needs resolving. Whatever means it takes”. 

You can hear the words in your head before he says them. 

“Be that with swords against each other’s necks or in my bed. You decide”.

[thefairyletters]

Ask me a ship and I'll tell you:

NaruSaku

Who proposed to the other first?

Naruto.

It took several practice sessions with Iruka (because Sasuke refused) pretending to be Sakura for Naruto to master the trick of kneeling and presenting the ring with an air of confidence. But when it mattered, Naruto tipped over his shoelaces (he never worn formal attire ever), accidently knocked over the table (somehow) and bumped straight into Sakura (some ninja he was), and that was how both got kicked out of the very expensive restaurant for causing ruckus.

But when Sakura said she thought "formal proposals were overrated anyway", he took her to Ichiraku, looked her dead in the eye while slurping on ramen, passed her the ring and popped the question illegibly.

Sakura understood anyway and threw a ring she brought for him on his face. She never said 'yes' but she didn't need to.

Who kissed the other first?

Naruto.

It was during a mission. They almost got caught by enemy guards (thanks to Naruto who doesn't know what it means to whisper) while they were following their target. Naruto did the only thing that would have possibly given them an edge. He pulled her to shade and initiated the kiss. Sakura only made sure they looked very convincing. Regardless to say, they got (kicked) out from the location, but without damage.

Later, this kiss inspired many more kisses that they began to steal from each other in the dark.

Who gives a good-morning kiss to other?

Sakura.

Although Naruto is always in bliss whenever Sakura stays night at his place and he is always up early if only to see her wake, it is Sakura who, when she wakes up, sleepily, kisses him first and gets out of the bed to prepare for the day. He always remain in bed until the shower is turned on.

Who likes to play with other's hair?

Naruto.

Between two of them, they both know it is Naruto's hair that is much softer to touch. It wasn't always like that of course.

But Naruto has always found Sakura's hair to be the prettiest thing he's ever seen. The way sunshine would turn it gold, and moonlight silver, has always amazed him. He would give special attention to her hair whenever they'd make love and cuddle. Once Sakura asked if he loved her only for her hair, which he doesn't refute, much to Sakura's chargin and amusement.

Who likes to play footsies?

Sakura.

There was something innately sexy about Sakura's arms and legs. It could be that she's got the best built – one that is lean and strong all the same – out of their peers. Naruto's breath hitch every time those legs brush his and her heels trace an imaginary line on his calves. They know they should focus on the meeting. They know it was inappropriate for a Hokage to be distracted in the middle of the what could be a very important meeting. But they also know his very playful and intelligent wife was adept at takes noting of everything. Everything.

Who is the dominant one?

Kurama.

As much as Sakura loves to be on the top, it becomes hard when a demon houses in your lover's body. More often than not, Kurama who more or less has become a part of their relationship would take over Naruto's body whenever Sakura would cross a particular threshold of dominance tolerated to her. Apparently, it was insulting for an alpha male like Kurama to be taken from above by a mere mortal woman, even if the said woman was his host's wife. Not that it was his body she was making love to in first place.

It's only because Naruto could feel everything even when Kurama takes his body that they put up with his sexism. Besides, Sakura doesn't mind.

Who likes to keep a picture of the other with them all the time?

Both.

They each wear a necklace bearing each other's photo inside, to remind themselves of the times they were missing out on, of their significant other waiting for them at return home, to keep them company for the late nights when they get too busy with their duties.

Who likes to buy the other gifts?

Naruto.

He always send his clones to get Sakura flowers to cheer her up on days he hears about loss in the hospital. He often requests Gaara for new poisons he knows Sakura will enjoy in her lab. He takes her out on dates even after years of marriage – particularly to that very expensive restaurant, where he had planned to propose to her, that had kicked them out. They act deliberately loud in that one, but they don't get kicked out of course. Nobody minds what you do when you have power.

Most days, they don't send gifts for one another not because they couldn't but because those things don't spark joy in the face of the brighter things. Like, when Sakura comes to pick him up from office after her late shift, knowing he would still be cooped up in his office because he lost track of time.

Who takes initiative in making physical contact?

Sakura.

She would hit him whenever he would make a mistake, forget something important, or skip meals. Then, next moment she would be patting him like he were a dog, kiss his woes away and be on her merry way. She would come to his office to check if he had his lunch, and would force feed him if he hadn't (more often than not). She would drag him out of his office if he isn't home by 12 or would stay and help him until the work is done. She wasn't gentle nor romantic by any stretch, but she would always touch him for one reason or other.

Who plans their dates?

Naruto.

His clones come in handy. They'd scout the area and report back their findings. Naruto would jot it all down, highlighting their specialities, an habit Shikamaru and Sakura drilled into him, and allows Sakura to make her choice for their next date. Life is simple for them when it comes to making choices. It is when they are together that life becomes exciting.

Who was shy on their first date?

Neither.

Their first date had been no different than any normal meetups they've had before. Except with lingering touches, an innocent kiss turned make up session, and a hug.

Who wakes up the other?

Before marriage: Naruto would wake up first and help Sakura get started on her day – would make her coffee just the way she liked, set her outfit out by the vanity, make sure her bag is set just so she doesn't miss her files, and make bath for them. He would join her on the bed, and wait for her to wake up so he could get his prize for his hardwork.

After marriage: They'd both be too exhausted to find energy in them to wake up. Sakura would be the first to get out of the bed, but only after giving Naruto his customary kiss, and would set bath for them. Her husband would still be lost to the world so she would carry his sleepy ass into bath and prepare him for the day so they could once again be on their way to face the world.

Who was shy in taking their relationship to next level?

Sakura.

When Naruto and Sakura engaged in a kiss that was more passionate than they ever experienced before, Sakura knew what was coming. Her mind was a turmoil of emotions that had nothing to do with the heat that flared inside her body.

Sakura was no stranger to kisses. She liked – no, loved – kissing Naruto senseless. She could think of hundred ways that could make Naruto respond to her with only a kiss, and she loved that he loved kissing her. But, her body was her vulnerability. She could think hard but still would draw blank if it's about telling one positive detail about her body. Naruto always looked at her like she was the only woman in the world – and while the sentiment was flattering, it meant expectations. She was terrified of disappointing him. She didn't want to consider the possibility of him finding her body undesirable. They were dating, not married. He had no ties to her, he was free to find someone who he'd be attracted to, a better life, with someone who'd be a lot, lot better than her. She loved him, and she knew he loved her, but the chances of her messing this up were astronomical and –

Naruto pulled away from the kiss to look at her, to understand why she froze in his arms. He didn't understand the reason behind her anxiety – why she would freeze whenever his hands would inch a little too close to her chest or a little below her hips – so he did what she really wanted him to: stop.

One night, Sakura murmured her fears into his ears and Naruto, who had never seen her look so timid and breakable, gave her what she needed the most: time.

Time until marriage so she wouldn't have a reason to be afraid.

Who hogs up the blankets in their sleep?

Naruto.

When it happened for the nth time, Sakura threatened to kick Naruto out of the bed with only his dear blankets to shelter him from cold. He nodded his consent of course, but it repeated the next day and the day after, too, but Sakura is nothing if not adaptable, so she has thus learnt to keep another blanket on her side of the bed so she doesn't die in her sleep on cold mornings.

Who is easy to get jealous?

Sakura.

You can't help some things from happening when your boyfriend-turned-husband is a war-hero, as Sakura learnt it one week into her dating him. While she isn't bothered per se – being considered quite a hit among men and popular across countries herself – but there is a bold line between people admiring your lover and people feeling up your lover.

It is only because her reputation and her glare which is known to promise suffering that people scurry away from Naruto whenever she is in the vicinity.

No, Sakura is just worried for Naruto. She knows her husband wouldn't try things if he knows what's best for him.

Who cooks in the house?

Naruto.

Sakura can't cook rice to save her life. Period. Everyone in team 7 is well-aware about her inability to be domestic in general. Naruto finds it endearing most of the times– times when she is not attempting to make him her test subject for her culinary experiments.

They don't need chef to make them dinner when they return home, Naruto always makes sure to send a clone to make them dinner. Sakura has more than once told him that she was the luckiest woman in the world to have him as her husband. He makes them fresh bentos through clones. He tries new recipes whenever he gets a day off and surprises Sakura with his skills. Their sundays involve just them and their kitchen.

Sakura still insists on making them dinner whenever she could. She learnt to make a decent ramen after a month long – disastrous – training from Ayame. Although Sakura always adds too much of something, Naruto always licks his bowl clean because to him her ramen is only second to Ichiraku.

Who 'protects' and who 'nurtures'?

Sakura protects him.

Naruto nurtures her.

.

.

.

(Ask me a ship! But not in the comments section lol)

[themadauthorshatter]

So... I've been watching KH rewrites.

And while I'm not rewriting ALL of Kingdom Hearts, but I have a few ideas to change 358/2 days:

The organization has an agenda: find and kill Sora, Riku, and Kairi so they can stay out of the way, but with Sora sleeping, Kairi safe on Destiny Islands, and Riku running all over the place, their jobs just got harder.

The change the title to 358/3 days, because Axel's in on this too. This is the sea salt TRIO we're dealing with, not sea salt duo.

We see a majority of Roxas's beginner days, like before, but in between them, we see Xion with Axel, mainly because Xemnas trusts him enough to be able to incapacitate Xion, if she gets too fired up.

Oh yeah, Xion doesn't really look up and smile at Roxas when she first sees him. In game, her mouth just opens in a gasp and she clenches a fist. In her first days, she's strictly in 'attack anything that comes near me' mode because she's scared and confused. We see it happen when Demyx waves a hand in front of her face and she literally jiu jitsu throws him to the ground.

Xion stares at Roxas and Axel and follows them individually. Axel finds it creepy and warns her not to get any ideas while Roxas pretends not to notice.

Xemnas is more proactive, checking on and somewhat favoring Roxas and Xion, Roxas more than Xion at first before fully switching over to team Xion. Everyone notices, especially Larxene, and it's not a good thing. Except for Axel, who's okay to stay out of Xemnas's attention.

Larxene is a bitch. As in she not only tells Roxas to not use his keyblade, but also to hold still so she can kick him.

Lexeaus is a little kinder. He does still hit Roxas within an inch of his life, but he lets Roxas hit back, as hard as he can. Roxas does so, hitting him in the side, like by the abs, but not completely, and it only hurts Roxas more than Lexeaus, the big guy fights a pitied smile and tells him to try again. Roxas does so, hitting harder, and Lexeaus grunts and fakes it to look like Roxas really did hit him hard. Roxie boy apologizes, but Lexeaus brushes it off, complimenting that Roxas is a more than qorthy choice for the keyblade.

Zexion is not a fan of Roxas, because he looks too much like Ventus. He eventually has a silent kinshio with him and acts A LITTLE friendly towards him, but nothing serious.

Vexen has to be kept on a leesh so he doesn't lock Roxas in his lab and scientifically check him out. AT LEAST BEFORE HE GOES ON A MISSION WITH HIM. After that, he wants nothing to do with the kid.

Axel is a little weirded out by Roxas, at first, but warms up to him.

Marluxia is a little creepy in that while he trains with Roxas, like practice missions, he gets face caress-y and Roxas later asks Axel if he can not go on missions with Marluxia.

Xemans does not get like that with either of Roxas or Xion; all he does is ruffle/play with their hair and pat their back and shoulder.

AND XEMNAS ISN'T PORTRAYED AS A VILLAIN UP-FRONT. IN A PERFECT WORLD, THIS IS RELEASED BEFORE KH2!!!!!!

Saïx sees Axel's growing connections with Roxas and Xion, and he gets meaner because of it.

Roxas has his own version of anti-form or rage form, in the form of non-form, where he takes on a look very much like a mix of the samurai and dusk nobodies; he's bendy, fast, and hard as shot to lock onto, target-wise, but get hit and there's next to nothing that's going to save you. Roxas can only use non-form when he has no other optiin, and that's because he hates using it with a burning passion. Whenever he uses it, he has a hard time seeing things, so he relies on his hearing and any bright lights that catch his attention. Game wise, this is his limit break. When his health is low, non-form is activated with a cool looking transformation.

Non-form is the reason why Roxas is Xemnas's favorite, at first.

Xion doesn't talk to Roxas at all when they go on missions together, at least not until Roxas goes into non-form to save her, even though she doesn't really need saving.

Demyx was initially chosen to watch Roxas, but he saw the kid, newborn, scared, and confused, go into non-form and damn near attack him until Xemnas kicked him away. Saïx was the runner uo, but he gave the role to Axel, who successfully calmed Roxas down enough for the newbie to return to normal.

Xion warms up to Roxas, but is cold towards Axel, who returns the feeling, but also makes a deal with her; in front of Roxas, they have to play nice together or else Saïx is going to snitch to Xemans, who will have Xion ripped apart piece by piece until there's no putting her back together. Behind Roxas's back, however, they can fight all they want, as much as they want. Hell, they can even try to kill each other. BUT ONLY BEHIND ROXAS'S BACK SO HE DOESN'T SEE IT HAPPEN.

Roxas is given pretty lenient missions and it's not just because of his connection to Sora and Ven. It's also because of how unstable Non-form is.

Oh, yeah. Roxas hallucinates and hears both Sora AND Ventus, but it's only when things get too quiet. Xemnas has Axel keep an eye on him because he made friends with Ventus as Lea and had contact with Sora. If anything, the redhead can keep Roxas stable enough for them to bring him to Castle Oblivion and find Ven, when he's ready.

And he'll be ready when he dual wields keyblades, which Xemnas KNOWS wil happen because he's Xehanort and Xehanort apparently knows all.

He doesn't know enough because there's another person who can dual wield: Xion.

Xion is still a replica, but this time is made with fractures of Kairi's and Sora's hearts, Kairi being able to wield a keyblade because it got passed down from Aqua to her by accident and Sora because he's Sora.

When Axel is sent to Castle Oblivion and is reported as gone, Roxas's reaction is much more severe. First mission with Xigbar goes fine until the end, where Roxas not only gets hallucinations of Sora and all that, but also because he's experiencing a new emotion: GRIEF. He goes into Non-form and goes insane. Xigbar directs him to a dark corridor, where he's released right into the castle in The World That Never Was and starts destroying anything amd everything that moves before going all aroung the castle.

It soon becomes a really darkly comedic game of Catch The Kid Without Killing Him Or Letting Him Leave To Another World.

No one's fully successful, except for Saïx, who also goes berserk to stop and hold him so Xemnas can collect him. Roxas struggles in Saïx's arms and lets out scream after scream until Xemnas comes to get him and snap him out of it.

Roxas leaves Non-form and is led to his room by Xemnas, who compliments his ability to imitate emotions, despite not remembering how to.

Roxas, already trying to keep it together, breaks down again, and Xemnas holds him close, letting him get it all out, and explains that this is why they fight and need to fight warriors of the light, including Sora, Riku, and Kairi.

After that, Roxas is only allowed on recon missions until he's stable again.

It's fine though, because Axel makes it back a week later, saying he got knocked unconscious by Sora. He escaped and made it out a-okay, leavung out the part where he may have merced Vexen and Zexion.

Roxas is still glad.

Axel reports to Xemnas and Saïx and euns into Xion.

The threat still remains, but he's still playing nice for Roxas's sake.

Over time, Axel and Xion learn to get along and even become friendly enough to be sarcastic and jokey with each other.

It also helps that Xion also deals with hallucinations and her way of dealing with them is by running. Axel and Roxas followed her and came face to face with a GIANT heartless, maybe a more threatening version of the Dark Side.

All three fight it, but it knocks Xion and Axel away, the redhead gets up and is almost smashed into the ground before Xion lunges, going into her armored form. Roxas follows as well, in his Non-form.

The two make quick work of the heartless amd Roxas struggles to turn himself back, where Xion does it perfectly.

Axel compliments the work, but hugs onto Roxas before he can lash out at a frightened Xion, telling him to play nice or they're not having any more playdates and he'll be locked in his room 24/7.

Roxas turns back and he and a surprised Xion pass out, leaving Axel to groan at having all the icky jobs; he got the crap beaten out of him amd wants to pass out with the two children, but instead has to carry them back to the castle so neither die on his watch.

They all recuperate and pat themselves on the back for their victory.

Xemnas congratulates them as well, having let himself in the infirmary because he heard what happened.

Axel reports that they're all fine and the heartless is gone, and Xemnas is more than glad to hear it, at least before her turns to Roxas and asks if he was hurt, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He's fine, just a little dizzy, but fine.

Xemnas is more than glad to hear it, pushing back Roxas's bangs and playing with his hair a little before leaving them all to heal, ignoring Xion entirely.

She doesn't take it personally and instead remarks about how nice it was of Xemans to join them, for once.

Axel agrees with the sentiment and makes Roxas and Xion promise that they're won't be anymore surprise runaways like that again.

They agree, though Xion asks if surprise ice cream can be exempt.

Axel smiles and exempts surprise icecream.

They all become real friends after this point, and it includes them poking fun at each other("Er, I don't know my past so I'm gonna go Saïx berserk on anyone who asks, der, der, der"), sarcasm(Xion: "There really is no hiding from Saïx, is there?" Axel: "Well, there's always under Xigbar's bed, but no one's ever returned, so tell me how it goes."), and light name calling, like hot head, burning britches, and smoke and more smoke for Axel, hoodie and emo band for Roxas, and little miss pissed off for Xion, because she's funny to make annoyed and angry.

And they try more than sea salt icecream, like doughnuts, cakes, and eventually healthier foods that are still sweet.

Roxajs and Xion gonon missions together and eventually start more than a friendship.

Axel keeps an eye on them whenever he can and begins lying to Xemnas, saying neither are really progressing with their powers, but are maintaining, so there's that at least. Xemans is not convinced and asks an old question, considering how Axel has possibly the best memory out of everyone here: What happened to Sora? Axel feigns ignorance, because he TOTALLY helped Sora take out Marluxia.

Okay, but what about Naminé? More ignorance because she up and vanished. Maybe Sora stole her away or something, who knows? Teenagers do weird things.

Xemnas, more than a little fed up, notes that Axel's getting close to Rozas and Xion and admits that as much of a shame as it would be to waste resources, it'd be even more tragic to lose their own numbers, maybe even Saïx as well, despite how cold he's turned toward Axel. If it makes him feel better, he doesn't need to do the 'icky job,' Saïx can do it for him and he can simply watch.

Axel steps down and Xemnas twlls hom to tell the truth next time, if he doesn't want to lose anymore friends.

There will be a part 2 of this

[gabriel4sam]

Not love at first sight (But love at the sixty-third life defying idiocy), a CodyWan story

Written for @swbigbang, with the help of @kitcatkim in the role of the patient beta and @outernorth for artist (art just there)

Because all the other members of their small outpost were not in shape (read, hungover), Cody and Obi-Wan go on a small, simple, totally not possibilities of explosions supply run.

Cody comes back with a headache the size of Coruscant, a new hate of insectoids life. And a brand new significant other, in the shape of his exasperating General

 It’s not a hangover, it’s a hecatomb. Whatever Boil had put in his new still was a terrible, terrible idea. The entire Separatist Council could do pointes in tutus on the flight deck and the vode would neither see it, nor care about it.

Cody and Obi-Wan were the only ones not drinking the day before, them and the communication officers on duty. The communication officers because they were working, and Cody and Obi-Wan, well, because they like the occasion for the men to feel free, and they can’t with their superior officers in their company.

That doesn’t mean the men are supposed to feel free enough to incapacitate the whole bunch of idiots they are apparently in charge off.

“Latrine duties, the first time we do planet fall. The whole of them.” Cody grumbles, assessing the damage with a cold, clinical eye.

“How does that even work? Does every man have latrine duties for his own latrines? Do you make them install as many latrines as they are? ” Obi-Wan remarks. He’s the usual calm and composed Jedi Master Cody knows on the outside, but the Commander is pretty sure he’s laughing on the inside. Cody had met Quinlan Vos, ok? And he poured enough hard liquor in the man to obtain confidences. Confidences which horrified him, Obi-Wan had even less survival instincts than Cody thought, but confidences he can’t un-hear. He will know forever!

Or at least, he will know until a luckier droid kills him. Cody is not an optimist about clones living long, happy, fulfilling lives. He has eyes after all and a functioning brain.

Cody glares at Obi-Wan, just in case. He has learnt, in the two years since he took his position with his General, that Jedi react pretty well to glaring. Not that it stops them from doing stupid stuff, but at least, they feel guilty about it.

If they like the glaring party only. Commander Ponds had a lot of things to narrate about Mace Windu and the horrible, horrible conglomerate mogul.

Obi-Wan takes his most innocent air, something Cody stopped believing two days in their acquaintance, when his newly minted General had destroyed a whole block of warehouses on an unnamed moon and made a grown Hutt call for its parent. It had been a bad month for Obi-Wan. No need to judge. When innocents are in danger, the cost of the repairs is less a problem and more a number for the politicians to handle. And yes, Obi-Wan knows the money used could certainly be used in other useful ways, but no amount of credits could ever buy a life, in the eyes of a Jedi. But that day, when Cody, after a few, very stressful hours of radio-silence, had finally gotten back his General, slightly charred, the hostages, hungry and thirsty and exhausted but all of them in one piece, and a terrified Hutt, in the middle of a devastated battleground, he had understood better the warning of Alpha-17. There, Cody had sworn in petto to never underestimate his Jedi, despite the irreproachable manners, the swishing hair and the smile of a holo-star.

Together, they take the time to check every soldier, to make sure nobody was busy drowning in their own fluid because they were too hangover/still drunk, to roll over. Everybody is alive, and the communication officers are getting ready to do a double shift, and ready to nib their vode about it later.

“It’s a good thing we’re on down time,” Obi-Wan remarks, “I must confess, despite the talents of your brothers, I’m not quite sure we could withstand an attack from Grievous and his various cronies right now.”

“We would get our asses handed to us, you mean.”

“Exactly.”

Obi-Wan cautiously touches  one of the abandoned drink containers, with more care than he gives to explosives.

“What did he put in this thing?” he asks, fascinated.

“You’re not testing it!” Cody immediately retorts, because he knows his Jedi, “not in the name of science, curiosity or whatever.”

Obi-Wan touches the container a second time.

Cody could swear the thing moves in return, like it wants to be pet. Obi-Wan hums, his face interested and he leans a little more in the direction of the container. If the thing starts growing whatever strange means of locomotion is on its mind, Cody is using his blaster, no matter the General’s opinion. That’s how bad holo-dramas start, with an unknown thing unleashed on an unsuspecting ship/outpost/space station. He refuses to star in one of those plot-lacking dramas his brother Wolffe pretends he doesn’t love.

The thing doesn’t move anymore and Obi-Wan loses interest and goes back to helping troopers into their quarters and their bunks.

Cody helps, but that doesn’t mean he’s not plotting terrible retributions. He knows the last few weeks have been pretty hard, the hardest in a long time, that’s one of the reasons Obi-Wan and himself made themselves scarce last night. 

Now, they have a week just waiting for the Negotiator to come pick them up. One week for the men to rest and to heal and perhaps to train lightly…but that’s no reason for the sort of screw-up Cody is seeing right now. Boil and his still should be transferred from the 501th and put into whatever part of the army that handles studies about biological warfare. Biological warfare that the Republic officially doesn’t indulge in, studying it only as a way to protect its worlds against it. But Cody isn’t convinced. He has a lot of questions he will never ask about parts of the army which are not led by Jedi, and that the Jedi are trying, with no success, to have access too. Obi-Wan has promoted him so much that the Commander now has access to documents he’s pretty sure nobody thought a clone ever would. He’s staying silent for now. If the Jedi need help with that, if they fail, the vode will try, but Cody is keeping this ammunition in reserve. He can only fire it once, because when natural-borns who aren’t Jedi realize exactly how much power Obi-Wan and the Jedi council has given him and some of the other commanders, they will try to strip them of it, he just knows it.

At the end, everybody is moaning in their bunks, or manning communication, and Cody and Obi-Wan raid the nice rations, the ones with the green seals, no less food of unkown origins than the rest of it, but certainly the tastiest. They sit down at the entry of the outpost, sharing a canteen of water between them. They don’t talk, most of the time they don’t need to.

Cody isn’t really hungry but it’s easier to trick Obi-Wan into eating something when those who surround him do too. The warmth of the sun, the sounds of nature, the nice, and so rare, oh so rare, knowledge that they have a little free time instead of having to run to put out another fire. All of this is making Obi-Wan soften, like a carving of stone suddenly becoming pliable.

“Commander?” Cody’s holocom disturbs them, and Cody startles, suddenly realizing he was lost in the light playing into the copper of Obi-Wan’s hair.

“It’s nothing, really nothing probably,” the shiny in charge of this particular console explains to them, “ one of the new models of probes  should have been back twenty minutes ago. I tried to raise it per the procedure, but it isn’t answering.”

“We’re supposed to be alone on this world,” Obi-Wan remarks, a line forming between his brows.

“They are still working the kicks out of this model,” the shiny admits, “that’s why we used them specifically on this planet where they are in no danger. We’re supposed to go back with all of them, for study, to hammer out the last problems.”

The line between the General’s brows is growing deeper.

“I will make a report to the Council about the danger it could pose to you, to send any vode on the field with materials not totally ready, and the Jedi Order will issue a formal protest.” His shoulders are tense. No matter the number of tries, the Jedi are blocked at every corner in the Senate in their efforts to better the life of the clones, even in the small things and it’s a terrible possibility that this time will be the same.

“You know what? We should go check ourselves,” Cody decides, because he wants to erase that line, that tension. “Since Boil poisoned the men, we could do it. A little trek in fresh air before breathing the recycled air in the Negotiator again.”

“Oh Cody, I can do it myself,” Obi-Wan offers immediately, “you don’t have a lot of free time-“

“Funny, I would have sworn you didn’t know the concept…”

“I am perfectly capable of knowing when my body needs down time.”

“That’s not what Master Erin said.”

And that’s how they leave the base.

It’s almost noon, birds or other small things Cody can’t honestly identify are chirping, the air is crisp and fresh, and the sky is only slightly purple, with no risk of rain. No matter how many worlds he sees, Cody is still out of countenance on worlds where the combination of gases in the atmospheres and stars emitting other waves than the Kamino sun combine to give entire landscapes strange colours. Most of the time, he’s wearing his helmet which filters the strangeness of it, and it’s only at the end of the battle, when he takes it off, that he realizes everything is weirdly green-tainted.

Also, he’s pretty sure Arc Trooper Fives was lying when he told him once he visited a world on a body guarding mission with his own Jedi were everything was glittering. He’s not putting any money on it, because Skywalker and his men were guarding the Naboo Senator. From what Cody observes, when Naboo people enter the scene, glitter just happens. He also thinks Fives is much better being Rex’s problem than his own.

Most of their supplies have already been packed for retrieval, so Cody and Obi-Wan only took one hover bike out, and for now Obi-Wan is piloting, Cody behind, and the Commander is beginning to think he made a tactical error. The plastoid of his armour is supposed to stop him from feeling Obi-Wan’s warmth, but Cody could swear he can still feel it. For all that the Jedi can seem aloof and strange, nothing makes him remember his General is flesh and blood than encircling a linen-warped waist with his arms.

 The world passes around them, the colours of the trees, the playful course of the clouds in the sky, the peaceful scenery of a wild world, with its inherent qualities and defaults. Cody likes those worlds better, untouched by sentient life. Growing up in the sterility of Kamino, there is something intoxicating in nature running its course, forests giving way to meadows, biotopes decided by climates and geology, and not by a careful hand arranging them for the maximal profits in their exploitation.

Cody understands about the need for fresh territory, with the growth of population, but certainly, certainly the most carefully hidden part of him insists quite vehemently, there must be another solution than the desolation of grey and pollution that is Coruscant. Something else than seeing the poorest people of the Republic living in deplorable conditions, never seeing the fresh green of a new leaf, as the richest ones can sample the delights of nature in carefully constructed reserves?

More and more, Cody is curious about the Agricorps, and their works to restore degraded biotopes, but he had the vague impression, when he asked questions about it to his General, that it’s a difficult subject for him.

Probably, Obi-Wan wanted to go into the Agricorps and they didn’t want him to, for whatever reasons. Cody thinks it’s more glorious to restore nature and to help feed a community than to go to war, like Obi-Wan is doing right now, or to negotiate treaties, which he vaguely thinks is Obi-Wan’s job in time of peace.

Cody’s thoughts drift gently as the journey continues, going from nature’s beauty to the exact shade of Obi-Wan’s hair when he has been under a natural sun for more than a few hours. The way the copper of it becomes richer and richer…. After a little less than two hours, they switch pilots, and Cody does his best to keep his thoughts on track. It would be stupid to crash just because he’s distracted by a flight of birds taking off with the noise of the bikes, no matter how graceful they are. He concentrates on piloting, and not on the presence of Obi-Wan behind him, his arms around Cody, and not in the colours of the forest around them, and the bucolic impression of their little expedition.

The last known position of their wayward probe put it next to a small lake, four hours away on hover bike, at the base of the mountainous regions. If this part of the world was in winter season, the most logical reason for their missing probe would be a mudslide.  Cody told in his reports time and time again that the probes should fly higher, that the field itself is much less friendlier than believed in the labs, but apparently nobody listens to him.

It’s the end of spring on this part of the planet, the probe was probably eaten by a giant fish, or something equally undignified.

They unseat on a single beach, the last known location. No more probe there than dignity and decency in the Senate. Nothing. No blackened hull of the thing if it had exploded under mysterious circumstances, best known as shoddy work in the conception. Not even a trace they could track back.

Cody turns on himself, surveying the landscape. Vegetation, mountains, peaceful lapping of water on the beach, more mountains with their snowy capes, a lot of weird looking trees. For a vacation, it would be peaceful. For missing military equipment, it’s sadly lacking.

“By incredible luck, you wouldn’t sense our missing flying friend in the Force?” Cody asks, because that would simplify things. That would simplify things, so of course the answer is no. As Obi-Wan struggles with putting together the scanner, Cody gathers pieces of driftwood, intending to start a fire. If they have to circle on foot, on uneven ground, to find the probes, nothing says they can’t do it after another meal next to a warm fire. In the harsh reality of war, Cody has learnt to wisely enjoy the few moments of peace, and he would very much like to teach that skill to his General. Obi-Wan is supposed to have decades of experience in him, but apparently he’s not aware that every sentient has their limits.

Cody is less than twenty meters from the Jedi and the hoverbike, facing Obi-Wan, his arms already full of a nice load when he sees Obi-Wan let go of the scanner, which tumbles on the stones, and turns to him, a hand already at his waist, reaching for his lightsaber.

“Cod-“ Obi-Wan yells, but the sound doesn’t reach Cody, as the stones give way under him, shifting in a dip of grey sand and Cody is gulped down like Master Yoda gobbles a small fish.

For a second, he can’t breathe, there is sand everywhere around him, on his skin, in his mouth, infiltrating his armour by the neck, and the wood in his arms squeeze against his ribs. He feels he’s gonna get crushed alive and he struggles with all his strength. Death has always been the end but he wanted to leave in combat. He can feel unconsciousness threatening and just before it would take him, he’s spit up violently and he rolls over with the momentum, the driftwood, the sand, and a few bits of the armour which didn’t survive the experience.

He can see someone lean over him, no more than a silhouette, because it’s so dark, he can feel the sand under his head, and also the head wound and the blood seeping out of it, and he takes a long breath, and it burns, all the way to his lungs, and then he knows no more.

For a long time, Cody floats. He dreams. Or he hallucinates.

He’s on Kamino again and he learns the world is without mercy for him and his brothers.

He’s training and he can feel Alpha-17’s eyes on him, pensive.

He’s very young and he doesn’t understand where the last of his batche went.

He’s older and he’s meeting his first Jedi, General Tii, and she always has a nice word for every clone, but her eyes are terribly sad every step she takes on Kamino.

He’s meeting Rex and their friendship soars instantly.

He’s seeing brothers dying and he’s seeing rescues and the world is a never ending war, but Cody refuses to let that be the only thing his brothers will know. He watches and he checks and he learns and he places his brothers the best he can, and he’s evaluating Jedi and people, and planets and his mind never stops.

Cody wakes up. General Plo Koon is leaning over him and Cody lets relief seize him, until he realizes something is wrong. No eye covers, no breathing masks, and as much as Cody can see in the very low light, the thick leathery hide acting as skin is much lighter than Plo Koon’s. A Kel Dor, but not the Jedi Master that the Wolffe’s pack would follow to the end of the galaxy and beyond.

After a few seconds of his brain going round in circles, it finally stops at a very important point: Kel Dor and humans don’t breathe the same atmosphere, and this Kel Dor is without breathing apparels. Cody goes to put a hand on his mouth in instinctual movement, like he could stop himself from suffocating, but the other lays a hand on Cody’s forearm, his entire body language non-threatening, and says something he can’t understand. That’s when Cody realizes something translucent is surrounding his head, like a bubble inflating and deflating with every breath he takes. He pokes it, very carefully. It’s flexible, slightly sticky and it smells earthy, a little like those mushrooms his General insisted he try once, when he took him to his friend Dex dinner.

Cody takes a careful breath. He doesn’t die in terrible suffering, so he takes another one. The air entering his lungs still seems appropriate for his species. He tries to sit up, moving very slowly to make the stranger understand he’s not attacking, and the Kel Dor helps him.

Seated, he can better observe the place around him. He has been placed on a pallet of light fur, in some sort of carved place, the walls decorated, not in paint, but in carving, and his armour is against one of the walls, carefully stacked. Cody wants to touch his head, where he was hurt, but once again the Kel Dor stops him before he touches the bubble. The only light comes from a small clay bowl full of sizzling oil, where a wick has been adapted. It doesn’t give enough light to help Cody see more than the small room and a crude overture in the stone, leading to more darkness. He can’t even study perfectly the features of the Kel Dor, more than to be sure it’s definitely not Master Koon.

The Kel Dor says something again and Cody makes a frustrated noise.

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak your language.” The other doesn’t seem to understand that, so Cody tries Mando’a, with the same result. 

He tries the Galactic Sign Language, no results. 

He knows a few signs of the Alderaan Sign Language, the one from their Southern Hemisphere. Queen Organa taught him a few lessons once during a lockdown in the Royal Palace when he was guarding her, between grumbling about clones’s rights and what her husband better do about it in the Senate, and Cody learns fast. The Kel Dor still doesn’t react in any useful way.

“A common language would be pretty useful to know if I’m your guest or your prisoner,” Cody jokes. Sarcasm now. He’s spending too much time with his General.

He shifts, trying to see if he will be stopped from standing, but the other only helps him, carefully arranging on Cody’s torso the ending of the bubble. Now that Cody studies it more attentively, he’s sure the stuff is organic. It’s like they forced his head and the superior part of his torso into some sort of ring of weird looking mushrooms, the mycelium of one of them extended around his head. If this is producing oxygen for him, he really doesn’t want to disturb it.

The world tilts when he stands up but the Kel Dor pushes a shoulder under Cody’s arm and they go out. When Cody passes his armour, he fetches his blaster, and the other doesn’t stop him. Either he doesn’t understand it’s a weapon, or he doesn’t think Cody will attack him. Her? Them? Are Kel Dol gendered beings?

Exiting the small room, Cody can’t see. Everything is dark around them. He can hear movements and the air around him has the quality of an enormous space. A cave, he would think, but the little lamp his new friend has in his claws is not enough.

“Of course,” Cody remarks, “your eyes are much much better. You don’t need a bank of lamps.” He almost jumps when someone joins them and if his head wasn’t still ringing, he probably would have attacked, but it’s only another Kel Dor, smaller, with a skin more brown. They ask something to the first one, but again, there is no sense for Cody.

He’s guided to a stone bench and the little lamp is pushed into his hands. Kel Dor are going in and out of the little circle and Cody tries to evaluate how many of them there are, but he’s, to his great shame, not good enough to distinguish between the Kel Dor easily. He can isolate one or two who have more evident features for a human, like one missing an arm, but the rest of them, all dressed in a very similar way with some furs identical to those Cody woke up on, and the alien features. Cody feels anger against himself. He judges natural borns for not making an effort to distinguish between the vode, despite their efforts to gain their own identity by tattoos or dyes, and he shouldn’t be victim of the same bias.

Finally, someone sits next to him. Cody studies their face, trying to commit them to memory.

 People don’t seem unfriendly. He’s pretty sure the one he woke up with is some sort of local healer, and that it is this one who came back to him several times. Children even come to him, chattering in their language in a way which makes him think of the younger ones on Kamino, before some of their batches started to disappear and they started to understand what their fate in the world would be. A particularly daring little one climbs onto his lap and Cody looks around, ready to see the parent arrive and take its offspring from the strange being. But this community seems so peaceful nobody sees a problem with the child on the stranger's lap.

The little one shows him his treasure, a cube deeply carved with symbols Cody can’t decipher. Of course. In a world without sun, carving must be a medium and painting, or writing, must be inexistent.

“It’s a very nice cube,” he says to the little one, whose gender he can’t decipher. If Kel Dor have gender. He’s pretty sure he heard once that the biggest number of genders registered for a sentient species was eight, and the smaller zero, but he has no idea for this species.

The child seems pretty happy with the answer, even if they can’t understand it any more than Cody can understand their own opinion, expressed in an uninterrupted flow.

Around him, he can vaguely perceive people going about their day. How calm. How reposing. Nevertheless, peaceful or not, Cody can’t breathe the same atmosphere as them, and the strange organic concoction they put on his head to help will soon find its limits. He’s getting thirsty, for once, and he can’t drink without taking the thing off, which he can't. And that’s not even thinking about his General, who must be trying to reach him by any means the Force gives him.

If he knows Cody is alive.

No, no, he must know.

And even if the Force, whose exact limitations Cody is quite unsure of, even if the Force can’t tell Obi-Wan Cody is alive, Obi-Wan is not exactly a man to just go back to the outpost and declare him dead. He will search and search and search, and bring Cody back alive to his vode, or his body for his brothers to honour.

Cody knows: it had been a terrible row between the Jedi on one part and the Kaminoan and the Senate on another, this refusal to abandon dead clones bodies to the elements.

And, to the surprise of the Senate who was in the habits to bully the Jedi for centuries, the Jedi hadn’t budged. But Cody had seen what it had cost them: the Senate had made them pay, in late important reports who the Jedi needed for the war efforts, on refusal of important supplies, suddenly labelled unessential…

So, Obi-Wan is searching for him at the moment, and Cody needs to go to him. The ringing in his head, present since he woke up, has slightly diminished, and he has walked with more grievous wounds.

The question is now: how to mime exit to the Kel Dor, how to ask for a guide? Because if he has to feel around the cave until he finds an exit, he will, but that would be so much easier.

“Hoping there is an exit into your cave, little one,” he says to the child, who is falling asleep on his lap, “because if I have to drill through the roof to the exterior of the planet, it’s gonna cause breathing problems for your city.”

An adult approaches them, a long plaid in their hands, and they mime Cody putting it around his shoulders. Instead, Cody wraps the little one in it and puts the resulting bundle into the adult’s arms.

“I don’t suppose you could send me to the nearest exit?” He asks, and of course, the Kel Dor doesn’t have an answer.

He takes the little lamp and leaves to explore. He can’t see well more than two meters from the circle of light, and even with it, his eyes are struggling.

Soon, he’s stopped by a wall, which he follows until he finds a low door, with only a curtain. He risks an eye, feeling quite voyeuristic, but he only sees something resembling a storage space, big amphoras against a wall.

He continues to follow the wall, finds another one, loses himself in what is a succession of low houses. Above him, the roof of the cavern is still invisible and he can’t see the walls. He finds another little place with stone benches.

Or is it the same?

No, even underground, Cody is sure of his sense of direction. It’s another one place, and the city is bigger than he thought possible. He’s also walking way too slowly, because of the problem of light and his still ringing head.

“Kriff,” he whispers, sitting down on one of the benches.

“Obi-Wan, please find me,” he whispers before scolding himself. He’s no melodrama maiden, he is perfectly capable of finding the surface again by himself.

A burly Kel Dor approaches him, mushrooms in his claws and says something.

“I’m sorry, I can’t understand what you’re saying,” Cody tries to explain. The other sits next to him and gesticulates to the mushrooms helping, he thinks, him to breath, and when Cody doesn’t do anything, he starts placing the ones he brought against the first ones. They seem to merge in a frankly disgusting scene which is probably mushrooms porn.

“Does that mean you need to change them regularly for me to breathe?” Cody asks, despite knowing he won’t receive an answer he can understand.

 To add another problem to the long list Cody is already shouldering on, the cave floor starts to tremble and people start yelling.

People are yelling, and despite the language barrier, Cody can understand the panic with no problems.

The soil beneath his feet grumbles again. There is a sound like a rockslide, and more yells, and terror is the taste at the back of Cody’s throat, because he still can’t kriffin see.

Finally, the trembling is so terrible he’s thrown on his knees and the sound reaches a crescendo as a great light emerges from the rock soil, three hundred meters from where Cody is kneeling. It’s some sort of giant worm, with a maw higher than Cody. It roars and glows even brighter, the bioluminescence of its chitin almost dazzling for Cody himself.

 All around Cody, Kel Dor are yelling and struggling on their feet with great difficulties, as the rock soil is still trembling. The beast roars again and it sounds like a thousand ships taking off at the same time in the confined environment. As Cody is helping a Kel Dor to their feet, the pandemonium reaches an even higher spike as another worm emerges, further than the first, and the quake of the rock sends them flat on their bellies.

Cody really regrets letting Boil distribute his production yesterday, what he wouldn’t give for ten men and a rotary canon right now! Even for Hardcase, who he’s really happy is most of the time Rex’s problem, and his tastes for explosives.

He hoists himself more or less vertical, swearing all he can at the same time. He helps the Kel Dor to their feet again and then assesses the situation.

The lights of the worms let him have a good gaze for the first time at the enormous cavern they are in and the low buildings in it. Behind them he can even see big overtures, probably an entire network of caverns. An entire city in the dark, deep in the soil, protected from the outside world and its atmosphere which the Kel Dor can’t breathe, and from the Republic scanners which never knew they were there.

Protected from the sun, too.

And now that the light has come to them in the form of predators, they are defenceless. Cody can see people trying to flee, with a hand on their eyes, and with no success. By the time Cody has succeeded in approaching the scene of the disaster, at least three Kel Dor have been swallowed.

One of the worms, the closest, roars again and Cody doesn’t lose time: the maw, unprotected by the chitin covering the body, seems like a perfect target.

He raises his blaster and fires.

Another roar, even more deafening, as blood splatters all around in a gorish scene. A good part of the mandible has exploded, but the beast isn’t dead. It strikes, trying to gobble Cody like it did the poor Kel Dor. The difference is that the Commander can see in the light, on the contrary of the first victims. He evades just in time to escape certain death.

He rolls over and raises his blaster a second time, but the angle is worse than the first time, and the shot dampens itself on the chitin with no more effect than darkening it, and enraging the worm even more. 

Again, it tries to kill Cody and the man dances out of range, blessing the hours of training the Jedi gave all of them. It had been the first thing the Jedi had done, because they thought the training the vode had received on Kamino didn’t focus enough on the art of dodging.

Cody never told them it was because the trainers and the Kaminoans thought the vode easily expandable and more useful for a suicide strike. He suspects the Jedi knew, if the way they act around the Kaminoans is proof.

Dodging, advancing, retreating, taking a shot every time he sees an overture, Cody fights, more a reflex than anything, to protect the Kel Dor. He wouldn’t refuse a little help; with spears even if they don’t have other weapons, but the cavern inhabitants are useless. They are not even running away from the worms, full of the terror of death, and the light, which have come in their city.

Nevertheless, the issue of the fight was never a real question. Even hurt and far away from his usual fighting grounds, Cody was bred a warrior and he had honed the skills given to him by his genetic donor all his life. The worm, a female, is in the habit of only fighting other female worms during the mating season for access to the best breeding ponds and to gobble Kel Dor and every animal it could. It never had to fight a sentient being, especially one with a blaster.

The blaster’ shots finally damage the roof of its mouth enough and one of them burns its path to the brain. The beast dies immediately, but the nervous system needs time to receive that message. For a moment, Cody fears the convulsions of the enormous body will cause the entire caves system to collapse on their heads.

When the movements finally stop, he vaults himself over a rock slide, caused by the events, and approaches carefully. The worm is still partially obscured by the rock he emerges from, but Cody can see a good twenty meters of it. He’s bringing back a chitin part to the GAR, because he wants ships protected like that!

A sudden movement to his left makes him turn, but too late. His zoological fascination has caused Cody to make a horrible, rookie mistake, the sort of mistake which makes a rookie never have an occasion to become something other than a rookie.

For a moment, he had forgotten there was a second worm.

He brandishes his weapon, but it’s too late. Only his reflexes save him from being cut in two, but a razor sharp incisor scraps against his armour, parting it like butter and only missing the skin by half a centimetre. The worm has no interest in the Kel Dor, no matter how easy prey they are. It just wants to kill the stubborn little creature who just killed its mother. His blaster clatters on the rock, too kriffin far away. Cody rolls on himself, tries for it, but he already knows it’s too late, when the sound of a lightsaber being ignited announces the arrival of the cavalry, just in time.

Obi-Wan Kenobi arrives on the scene like an armed deux ex machina. He’s wearing Cody’s helmet in order to breath in the cavern and death is burning light-blue in his hand. Rare are the materials which can resist the power of a lightsaber, and Obi-Wan doesn’t take chances with Cody’s life, no matter how he is repelled by the taking of a life, even an animal one. The head of the worm falls on the other side of the body as Obi-Wan is still airborne from one of those improbable jumps Force Sensitive do. The second his feet touch the rock; he’s rushing to Cody, trying to assess his health.

Across the galaxy, Anakin suddenly sits down in the marital bed, sending Padmé, who was asleep across his torso, tumbling into the sheets by the violence of his movements. The vision of a chitinous torso opening, full of meaty juice, dances before his eyes.

“Ani?” The young Senator asks, once he has succeeded in making her put down the blaster she retrieved from even the Force doesn’t know where. Padmé doesn’t do peaceful when she’s woken up abruptly, something he learned quickly in their marriage. Convincing the handmaiden that every noise inside their bedroom wasn’t a murder attempt and that they shouldn’t rush in, weapons drawn, was another interesting adjustment to the married life.

“I just.….I’m not sure…” He tries to grip what woke him up, but it already has disappeared. “I think I’m hungry,” he admits, “sorry to have interrupted your sleep.”

“The droids can make you something,” she suggests, burrowing into the nest of pillows, less prone to sudden shifting.

“Do you think we have insects?” He asks.

****************************

“Cody! Cody, are you alright?”

“Obi-Wan, General, are you hurt?” Cody and Obi-Wan ask at the same time, hands searching, patting the other bodies in gestures less destined to triage of wounds and more to the simple animal need for contact.

“The air of the cavern isn’t breathable for us,” Obi-Wan says, after a few seconds and Cody nods: “I deduced that, but the thing on my head….it’s helping.”

“How did you deduce such a- Oh, um, hello.”

Around them, the Kel Dor have begun to assemble, all of them an arm on their face, trying to protect their eyes.

“Your lightsaber, turn it off,” Cody says and, making something purr in the Commander’s chest, Obi-Wan immediately obeys, no question, no hesitation.

The Kel Dors guide them away from the scene of the carnage. Cody sees a few of them with stone machetes and axes, already working on taking apart the pale flesh of the worms, working from the wounds Cody and Obi-Wan made, as the chitin is too hard on other places of the big bodies.

Cody watches for a few seconds. One of a Kel Dor yanks open the cranial cavity. Cody turns to the other side very quickly, because butchering enormous worms is apparently more than his battle-hardened stomach can take. Nothing should make the noise an axe makes against flesh.

Cody finds his little lamp again. It’s not even extinguished, the events haven’t probably lasted more than ten minutes. The universe is a hard place, thinks Cody, where he could get eaten by any abomination with too much teeth in less time than an oil lamp runs its course.

They sit next to each other on the closest bench and in the halo of the lamp, Cody inspects his General better. He’s covered in stone dust and whatever else disgusting stuff is on his tunic: he probably crawled his way there.

The adrenaline is still burning through Cody, and joy too, as he turns to his General. On the whole, he misses the days life was simpler on Kamino, with no worms for example, but on Kamino, he never heard the sound of a lightsaber and knew, with a certainty so burning it could have well resonated in the Force, that he was saved. There is comfort, in the hard world he’s living in, in the certainty that his General will tear apart entire solar systems to rescue any clones. That all Jedi would. For a clone, raised to be interchangeable, this strong-willed refusal to leave even one of them behind is a balm to the soul.

“You found me,” he says, and he tries to infuse that with professionalism, and fails miserably.

“I will always find you,” Obi-Wan promises. It’s strange to talk to him like that, with Cody’s helmet on his head. Cody hadn’t realized he relied so much on the Jedi’s face to understand him.

“Yes, sir, but for a moment, I confess I thought you would more, avenge me or something.”

Obi-Wan touches his shoulder.

“I’m sorry to have been so long,” he says, “the system of caves proved itself tricky, and the Force insisted I couldn’t just blow up my way inside.”

“That would let the atmosphere on the outside enter,” Cody theorized, “and I think, our hosts….”

Like they have been summoned, two Kel Dor approach them. They are dressed as simply as all the others Cody has seen, but on the bust of the smaller one, there is some sort of ceremonial pectoral and it has a very big difference with everything Cody has seen since stepping into the cave. It’s in metal.

“Obi-Wan”, Cody whispers, “look at that.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t speak the language more than Cody. He can recognize it’s not the actual principal language of Kel Dor, which he has heard before, but no more than that. Nevertheless, it’s less a problem for a Jedi. He can feel in the Force other’s intentions, enough to understand easily that the people here don’t want to harm them, which Cody had deduced himself hours ago, and that they want to bring them to see something.

Cody is very happy to leave the dead bodies of the worms behind them.

And to  General Skywalker eats insects! Bless the Force that Skywalker is Rex’s Jedi.

One cave. Another. Another one.

“How many are there? How big are these caves?'' Cody asks. He’s tired, hungry, thirsty, and more or less ready to go back to camp, thank you very much.

They find a ship, or more, the skeleton of a ship, in the last part of the caves system, the deepest one. It’s less a cave, and more the memory of a crash. The ship has been cannibalized, years after years, of everything useful, to the latest scrap of metal, except for the framework.

“It was probably made with a metal too dense for the meagre set of tools they have,” Obi-Wan theorizes.

“I can’t recognize the type of  ship that is, the form itself is so strange,” Cody remarks, watching it with the eye of a man trained to recognize enemy and ally ships in a nano second in the middle of battle. Obi-Wan is touching the metal with his bare skin, with great reverence.

He always loved old things, his Jedi.

The happiest Cody had seen him was for a protection mission in a dusty archive, on a faraway world. General Skywalker was with them, and the young Ahsoka too, and the intel had been faulty. There had been no attack, Obi-Wan had had his Padawan and GrandPadawan close and safe, and spent his days making amorous noises at poetry treaties centuries old.

“It’s incredibly old. Probably before the foundation of the Republic."

"But that’s….that’s old as kriff."

"During the first time of space travel, ships weren’t as reliable. They probably are the descendants of a crew of explorers. After the crash, staying inside the caves was the only long-term possibility for them, if they hadn’t the means to produce enough respiratory apparatuses. It was the only way to survive for them.  Nevertheless, it stopped anyone from finding them. And little by little, they regressed technically and lost the way to contact the outside."

"Do you really think they would have travelled from their world without a way to breath on other planets?"

"Perhaps it was stocked in a part of the ship lost during the crash. Perhaps it was so long ago, it was long before the Kel Dor knew very few worlds have an atmosphere breathable for them…Every species has the tendency to think the world at large tailored for them.”

They don’t leave immediately. Obi-Wan is of the opinion that Cody is too tired to use the path he himself used to find him. And he’s probably right. Cody’s head is throbbing where he hurt it during his fall, but he doesn’t see how he could get better here, where he can’t eat or drink.

What follows is a game of mime between Obi-Wan and the Kel Dors which Cody won’t forget, ever, no matter how much Obi-Wan asks, and he regrets he doesn’t have a holocamera.

After a time, and an unforgettable time it was, Obi-Wan and he find themselves stashed in a little room, so low they can’t stand. It’s more a bed stuffed inside some sort of structure made in the same weird-looking, weird-smelling mushrooms. Cody takes off the bubble around his head and Obi-Wan takes off Cody’s helmet.

The red head has the worst case of helmet’s hair Cody has seen, ever and Cody can’t stop an unprofessional laugh around his first mouthful of fresh water.

“I don't Not a head made for helmets, do I?” the Jedi smiles, as he tore in two a strange looking loaf of bread.

They fall on the food, famished, and tease each other at the same time. There is water and what Cody thinks is some root vegetables, and flatbread, and some meat he isn’t touching with a ten foot pool, just in case it's giant worm.  

“If you swear to wear armour instead of linen in battle, I swear to the Force I will never mock your hair,” Cody smiles in return, and Obi-Wan makes a face, like he did already wear good, solid protection instead of tunic and leggings and whatever he calls the multiple layers of his Jedi’s clothes.

“I thought….for a moment, I thought…” Obi-Wan stops. It’s rare to see him lost for words, he of the Silver tongue, the Negotiator.

“I’m not dead,” Cody reiterates, because there is no need to beat around the bush. Even risking their lives every day the Force makes, nobody likes the kick of adrenaline when one of your men is missing. It never becomes normal. It never should.

“And yet, for a second I thought you were. When I saw the earth opening under your feet and gobbling you. And when I arrived during your battle, the Force trumpeting in my heart about the mortal danger you were running to.”

“The Kel Dor were pretty useless against those things. Couldn’t let them get eaten like that. Not when they rescued me and helped me.”

“I know. I know. And I would have done exactly the same thing.”

Obi-Wan sits on the bed, less gracefully than he usually does. From where he’s leaning against the mushroom wall, Cody stares. He can see the lines around his mouth, and after his late-night conversation with Master Quinlan Vos, he knows they aren’t from laughing. He can see the lines at the edges of the eyes, discreet for now, a little more present every day. He can see the first traces of grey on the temples, simply a trace of silver in the red mane…. He’s, almost, sure there was no grey at the beginning of the war, he has seen the holos of Obi-Wan against Prime, against Jango, all those years ago, on Kamino.

Obi-Wan is burning too bright, burning himself.

And Obi-Wan isn’t the only one not getting younger. The accelerated aging isn’t exactly good for Cody’s health, starting with his knees.

One day, he won’t be quick enough for the next giant, bioluminescent man-gobbling worm. Or Obi-Wan will be too tired against Grievous. Since they met, an assignment Commander- General decided by Alpha-17 himself, their life has been full of Separatist assassins, murderous fauna, Sith assassins, murderous geology, Separatist assassins pretending to be Sith assassins, and Sith assassins pretending to be Separatists assassins, brain-washed murderous Senators, murderous flora, murderous black holes, and one time a murderous sentient ship.

The whole galaxy is conspiring to kill clones and Jedi, for what Cody can see.

If his math is right, he survived today the sixty-third attempt on his life from Fate since he left Kamino. Obi-Wan was there for most of them, and Cody was around for the latest attempts on Obi-Wan’s life.

And one day, it will stop.

Cody opens his mouth before he can talk himself out of it. Life is short and he’s a soldier slave, he doesn’t have the luxury to wait for another time.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” he says, and Obi-Wan looks like he has been whacked on the skull with a heavy object. It’s not exactly his best face, mouth round in surprise, and Cody only feels affection. Then Obi-Wan’s lips curve into a smile like a sun, blinding, warm, and the Jedi touches the side of Cody’s face.

The Jedi touches the side of Cody’s face.

He doesn’t speak. Not yet. His head against Cody, his breath sharing Cody’s own air, they close their eyes, and Cody experiences the strange idea that he’s detaching himself from his brothers.

For the first time, there is something in his hands, or well, in his heart, that he doesn’t want to share with Wolffe or Boil, or even Rex, who has become his closest brother.

He doesn’t want to hide Obi-Wan from them, but he wants….

He hasn’t the words. Not yet.

But, with Obi-Wan at his side, he hopes he will learn them.

And he hopes his brothers too can find something, or someone, so precious they need to share the joy of knowing it, but also to keep it to themselves, like he wants to keep to himself the smile of Obi-Wan when Cody tells “I love you”, or the small freckles at the side of his mouth, visible only so, so, so close.

The first “I love you” Cody hears from Obi-Wan is whispered against his lips.

The first kiss tastes of the bread offered by the Kel Dor, of the cave’s dust and it’s perfect.

They’re still in the same situation, two exhausted men, in a cave full of toxic gases, only protected from them by some unknown mushrooms exuding oxygen, and Cody feels like he could take over the entire Republic. He sleeps curved around Obi-Wan, like two parts of the same whole, touching as much as they can, and if the headache from his head wound brings Cody to the surface a few times during their nap, he feels rejuvenated after it.

After, the Kel Dor help them find the surface and Cody and Obi-Wan leave their new friends, hand in hand, quite happy to find back the sun and the sky, the fresh air of a late morning…and almost all their men crawling around their area, trying desperately to find them.

Obi-Wan keeps Cody’s hand in his and a few brothers less intimidated than others by Cody’s glare, embarrassed and proud at the same time, even bumped their big brother’s shoulders as a sign of congratulation. Obi-Wan immediately goes red, like he’s a teen on his first crush, and not a seasoned Jedi Master whose touch can bring life or death. 

Cody finds it adorable. 

*******************

It’s the middle of the night shift on the Negotiator, but Cody is still working on a different time zone, so he lets Obi-Wan sleep peacefully in their shared bunk. Their shared bunk! A notion that still makes him giddy like a shiny at their first kiss, even a month after getting together. They are taking things pretty slow, or in the wrong order, Cody isn’t sure, they sleep in the same bunk every night, but haven’t got very far in term of sex, and this perfect, because this is them, and not some sort of artificial list of relationship’s milestone. And Cody already knows, deep in his soul, that he will never love a man like he loves this one, even if Obi-Wan is killed tomorrow, and he’s sure it’s the same for Obi-Wan. 

The Negotiator is in route to join with the Steadfast, so General Koth is on board after a conjoined mission where Obi-Wan and him gave Cody new grey hairs. He finds him easily in the mess, demolishing a healthy serving. The stamps outside the rations are a different colour than the ones Cody and his brothers eat.

“Can I join you?” Cody asks.

“Of course,” Eeth Koth immediately answers and the chair on the other side of the table moves on its own, offering itself for the Commander. Cody arches a brow.

“Don’t tell Obi-Wan,” the General jokes, “or I will endure a lesson for frivolous use of the Force.”

Cody sits and they stay silent for a moment, the General apparently happy to let him come to his questions in peace, continuing to eat his meal. Despite being tailored for a different species’ nutritional needs, it looks exactly as unappetizing as most rations Cody is used too. 

“General Ke-“

“You can call him Obi-Wan in front of me,” Eeth Koth interrupts. “There is no need to be ashamed of what binds you.” He grimaces. “Force knows we will all need all the comfort we can get before everything is set and done in this war.”

“Obi-Wan and I, we had a bit of an adventure, last month.”

“From what I heard, you have a lot of them.”

“Yes but….it was…it was the first time I was around civilians. Normal people, I mean.”

“Not Jedi and not clones, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“Putting apart the fact that you are normal people, and that we are too, that it is a slippery slope to consider us different, because then the rights…”

“I know you’re fighting for us in the Senate. I know. That isn’t the question…I just mean. They were civilians. Even more civilian than usual. I have only met natural borns who are Jedi and Senators and politicians or some sort of official. This was different. And I realized how little we know about the world outside the GAR. And how little we know about societies, and species who aren’t us. They raised us for war only…” Cody was almost trembling with it. Eeth Koth put a comforting hand on his wrist and Cody continued:

“Obi-Wan, I don’t want Obi-Wan to become my teacher. It’s not his role. But if we want to have a chance outside the war, us, the vode, we need to learn about the outside world. I wanted to ask you if there was something…a way…”

Eeth Koth had totally abandoned his meal and Cody could feel the weight of his gaze, the same gaze as Obi-Wan, transcending their species.

“Let me call a few people,” the Jedi said.

**********

Years later, Cody thinks a lot about that moment. Eeth Koth joined the Force during the war and Cody has to remember this moment for the two of them, this simple moment around a table, this moment which became one of the tipping point of his life. Not the too numerous almost-death, not the many battles, not even his first kiss with his dear Obi-Wan. This moment, in Cody’s mind, is the one which changed his fate. 

Eeth Koth died not even two months after that, one among a lot of Jedi who gave their life, alongside the vode, for a chance for the galaxy and its people. Not that people are particularly thankful about it: the discovery of the Sith engineering the two sides of the conflict rocked the easy confidence of the Republic in the solidity of its system.

Democracy is never forever, if people don’t work for it.

No, democracy is only saved for now, and never will it be saved forever and ever. But that shock to the system is treated by the most intelligent of the bunch like a chance to seize. All across the reunited Republic people are working hard, entering politics, creating organizations to teach the population, to hold those in power accountable…. 

It’s a sad thing so many vode, jedi and civilians had to die and suffer for that. It’s even sadder to think it didn’t almost happen. The Republic almost burned, the Sith almost won, the beloved former Padawan of Obi-Wan Kenobi almost helped murder Mace Windu, Master of the Order...Mace Windu isn’t exactly the type to hold a grunge, but Obi-Wan still needed months after that to stay in his presence, the guilt that should have eaten Anakin transfered. 

Honestly, if Obi-Wan forgave Anakin much too quickly, and Windu too, the vod needed a much longer time. Skywalker had almost helped the man who had engineered them as slave soldiers, the man who would have wiped out their free will, the poor part of it they still had. The vod had needed a long time to forgive, and would never forget, but Cody still has the desagreable impression Rex’s anger is a most important consequence in Skywalker’s mind that the almost death of the democratic system and the almost rise of a dictatorship. 

Sometimes, late in the night, Obi-Wan stays awake, something lost in his eyes than mediation never totally makes disappear, and Cody is sure that day figures in a good part in his dark thoughts. 

Obi-Wan, and Cody too, think about what could have been. If Cody hadn’t been there that day, in the Temple, who would have been in charge of keeping an eye on Skywalker in the Council Room? No one, that who. Because Skywalker was a Council member, if a very fresh one, and there wasn’t on hand a Jedi Master with enough years to take a look at a Council Member and decide he needed baby-sitting. All those Masters were deployed, or in beds in the halls of healing. But Cody, Cody was there, and since he and his General had become an item, he had taken sometimes to act, despite what his logical brain told him, not like a soldier Anakin could order around, but like an exasperated step-father. Exasperated and concerned, as the war advanced and Anakin seemed less and less attached to his morals. 

 Who would have followed him to the Senate when Skywalker had refused to wait anymore, and tackled him at the last minute? Who would have stopped Anakin Skywalker from doing something as tremendously stupid as to save a Sith pitted against Mace Windu?

And all of that had been possible because Jocasta Nu had taken the first excuse she could to keep Cody on Coruscant that month. A well-known linguist was visiting for a series of talks, and she thought he could be a good professor for Cody, and more importantly that well-know linguist had enough political power to obtain permission for a clone following his courses.

And the Republic had lived, because Cody loved linguistics, or more because he had loved the little he understood of it at the time.

But Cody refuses to let the horrors of those years of war, and his terrible first years on Kamino, define him. He prefers to think, again and again, to that moment with Eeth Koth.

Cody didn’t know exactly what he wanted. His accelerated childhood, raised for war and war only, hadn’t given him the words for it. He just knew that for his brothers and he to have a chance after the war, they needed more. Or even more terrible horrors would certainly befall them. Soldiers without wars aren’t useful anymore, and tools with no use are only fated to be dismantled for parts.

Following Eeth Koth’s call, Jocasta Nu and her assistants had descended on the GAR with determination, great efficiency and anger that they hadn’t thought about that themselves. By dint of foraging the Jedi Archives, and every friendly archives of the galaxy, for legal precedent to help the Vode, they had forgotten all answers weren’t found between the terabytes of a datapad.

Master Nu is seated right next to Obi-Wan in the public and trying very hard to pretend her eyes aren’t misty, as Cody receives his diploma, earning himself the title of Doctor in linguistics, for his work with the forgotten Kel Dor city, right next to the first Kel Dor of said city to have made the jump to Coruscant.

Cody isn’t the first clone to finish his thesis. Not surprising:  he left the GAR years later than some of them, refusing to leave before his lover, who had been pressed into service as long as the Senate could justify it, and even longer. With Anakin leaving the Jedi Order, Obi-Wan was certainly the most famous member of it for the public, and it was as if the Senate tried to make him pay the Jedi’s refusal to abandon the vode. But Cody was the first clone Jocasta Nu talked with, when she arrived to try to help the vode not in pleading that they shouldn’t be slave soldiers, but in demonstrating they were so much more.

Cody wasn’t the first clone to leave the GAR officially, that honour went to Rex who followed Ashoka to Orto Plutonia, the first clone to be officially accepted as a member of the Jedi Corps. For what Cody understands, his life consists of almost losing his toes ten times a month, hunting with the Taz and flirting desperately with every passing skirts, as Ahsoka flirts desperately with her own Senator and supervises Republic-Taz contacts. Obi-Wan and Cody went once during permission, and Cody swore to himself that the next time Rex and Ahsoka wanted to see them, it could be on a tropical atoll.

Cody wasn’t the first clone to find a job outside of the Jedi orbit. That honour went to Fives and Tup, who left together and chose the most pacifist world they could. “We were almost separated once, never again. I’m not touching a weapon again in my life” Fives had said to Cody that day, watching Tup, busy hugging Rex, with something ferociously possessive in his eyes. Now, they have a nursery of succulent plants on a small island, in the south hemisphere of Alderaan, and Cody still isn’t sure if they are the best friends in the world, or one of those pairs who took brothers in a quite different sense, and frankly, he doesn’t care. There is a small potted thing they sent as a gift on Cody’s desk, with red undertones and white flowers once a year, but the former Commander has a black thumb, and only Obi-Wan’s careful nursing in the Force saved the poor thing already thrice.

Cody wasn’t the first clone to enter academia, that honour went to Waxer, who now teaches mathematics on Mandalore and is busy reintroducing Fett’s genes into the population with a long string of ex-partners, who still like him very much and with who he raises an army of children, at least three of them bearing a name honouring Waxer.

Cody wasn’t the first clone to marry, that honour went to Jesse and Cody isn’t touching that choice of spouse with a ten-foot pool.

Cody wasn’t the first in a lot of things. But it’s ok. He doesn’t have to lead his brothers anymore. He doesn’t have to bear responsibilities for death and help who didn’t come, and for the horrors that were their life.

The vode are free and Cody can only be a brother like any other.

He can be only Obi-Wan’s husband, even if Obi-Wan jokes that now, it’s more him that will be only the husband of Doctor Cody Kenobi, his arm candy in gatherings.

[robinrequiems]

mmm more clishes.... Idk reverse background or personality kind of au? :/

ill do you one better 1 of my favorite mutual, reverse & personality au, they’re the same age bc I have a tiny idea *shy hands*

this is uh. a really long one thay started to lag my phone too

• oh god guys I got vivid memories of ra’s being a good grandfather and I can’t get it out of my head

• i hate it ur honor

• but ok. krypton didn’t get blown up, instead, they all migrated to earth, more specifically kansas.

• the kryptonians are angry and enraged, they are treated as if they are monsters when they arrived peacefully. they tried to kill them.

• so in return, the aliens killed the humans.

• they created a secret underground. that secret underground is to help aliens or meta humans and kill humans.

• all of them hated aliens and sought to destroy them. until kal el found a reporter trying to help aliens who were injured due to an explosion the government did to take out one of their bases.

• kal el.. fell in love with her. lois lane, she is an reporter fighting for alien rights.

• he met with her. in secret. and they.. had formed a connection. an amazing one.

• and then they had a baby.

• at the alien base, but.. she was human and people did not like that. so they wiped her mind and made her believe that they never had a kid. like the last few months.. wasnt real. she had gone missing those months since the aliens didn’t want her trying to hide the baby, they made her believe the last few months was spent in a coma and kal had found her and taken her to a hospital.

• he couldn’t see her anymore. he mourned for her lost presence, but they would have killed her if she stayed.

• but now they had precious jon el. he would be the highlight of their cause.

• they noticed his powers came in faster than kal’s, so they perfected his powers.

• he was going to bring humanity down on order of his grandfather, jor el

• kal saw his son break slowly. loses that childhood innocence that kal tried to maintain.

• his sons amazing bright blue eyes dulling, loses the spark that he cherished.

• kal was going to get him out of there, try to refuge the remaining childhood he had. even if it killed him.

—

• damian wayne! the bright bubbly and prodigal son of bruce and talia wayne ( b & t are married, suck my— ). the press loved him, he was just.. him. he was the baby and was cute, the cutest ever

• he was an expert in martial arts due to the training his grandfather, father, mother, & so much more gave him

• ra’s owns a farm. he’s.. sorry all i get is farm ra’s vibes due to.. something:) think endgame thanos, yk?

• he was the baby robin, one that you never messed with due to the herd of heroes who would come save him

—

• kalel left jon with Lois, a brief note explaining the current situation

• it was weird, jon was ten and was meeting lois for the first time

“Hi, honey.. I’m lois.”

“I know.. Dad told me about you.”

“Oh.. right. What do you want for dinner?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You have to eat.”

“No! I’m not hungry!”

• an explosive, superpower alien. Lois is way out of her head.

• he had outbursts, a lot of them. it was hard, really hard for Lois; she took some time off from the planet and focused on jon

• he broke a lot of stuff. he sometimes could not control his strength, but she was working with him

• but then one night he ran away, or flew away. he felt remorse for making Lois cry. she saw this as a win, but she lost her kid

• but then a little robin found him

“Um. Are you okay?”

“Huh-what- what do you want? Why are you talking to me?”

“Because you look sad? Yknow - hugs make people feel better. My ahki ( brother ) hugs me when I’m upset and it makes me feel better.”

“Don’t touch me.”

*Damian walked to him, smiling softly* “cmon, i won’t hurt you, silly. I’m robin.”

“A bird?”

“Haha- no, a vigilante- i sorta snuck out. My family can be a bit overbearing- and I sorta embarrassed myself at this theater thing.. some person—“

“Did I ask?”

“No.. sorry.”

“Hey— what are you doing - !”

“Hugging you.”

Jon won’t admit that he likes it, it’s different and weird, like this traffic cone in front of him. Jon pushed him off though, making himself stumble and fall on his ass.

“Ow..”

“Don’t touch me.” With rhat, Jon flew off into the night. Damian didn’t know who this boy was. But he intended on finding out. Even if it killed him. ( maybe not that extreme, but- )

• look damian was smart, right? smarter than average, and smarter than everyone in his school. teachers included ( ha ha )

• so he had to find this boy! so he started looking into aliens. until his family put an end to it

“Damian, this is dangerous.”

“But baba ( dad )”

“No. Go to your room.”

“Ugh!”

• he did slam his door shut if you were wondering

• he will find the mysterious alien boy, okay? he will!

• his brothers teased him and said he had a crush

• no he didn’t! the boy was really mean, he pushed damian- why would he do that? whatta jerk!

• but damian did find him again when he ventured off to metropolis to visit an old friend, colin.

“Alien boy!”

“That’s not my name, bird boy.”

“And that’s not mine. You didn’t tell me yours!”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“It’s safer for you.”

“I can defend myself. You sound so silly, please tell me your name?”

“No.”

“‘Least the first initial?”

“Fine. J.”

“J it is.”

“Yours?”

“Wha- what? I told you my code named.”

“It’s only fair.”

“.. Okay. D.”

“D. Okay.”

• damian talked to him for a bit before jon did fly off when damian was talking about the stars, damian knew he was getting closer to him

• but he got grounded. whoops. he wasn’t supposed to go out

“Give me your phone, Damian.”

“What if I go out? I need a phone, baba.”

“I.. Your computer”

“School work.”

“Switch.”

“What! No- but-!”

“Damian.”

• yeah damian was very mad, but what made him madder was that apparently, his family was listening to the secret conversations between J and him. but d didn’t know that yet..

• his family needed to track down J, they didn’t care if people were aliens, the JL had aliens.. but they had no idea who this boy was, and the way damian was looking into the underground alien sanctuary, that worried rhem. Damian was smart and cunning, but he is able to portray an innocent persona, they all had the habit of undermining his intellect, so if damian began looking into this, it was for a reason

—

• jon found that D rambled. A lot. Even when jon didn’t respond. Jon doesn’t even know how D always found where he was. It’s so weird.

• but Lois noticed a change in jon.. he was. calmer. she didn’t know how, but when he went out, he came back calmer.

“I have to go to Gotham for a gala hosted by Bruce Wayne, would you.. like to come?”

“Do you want me to?”

“I’d like you to, but you don’t have to.”

“.. Fine.”

—

• lois walked to bruce with Jon in tow.

• “bruce.” “Lois, looking lovely as always.. who is this?” “Jon, my son. Say hi, Jon.” “Hi..” “He can hang around one of my sons— Damian, if you want? I’m sure him and his friends would love to have Jon around.” “What do you say Jon? Would you like that?” “Not really..” “I assume you, Damian doesn’t bite. Not anymore. And he’s pretty accepting.” “.. Fine.”

• damian was called over by his father and he did a double take. J. Was here. In front of him. Damian just internally shrugged and held a hand out, “Hi! I’m Damian! Wanna go play with my friends! there’s a game room so we don’t have to be with the gross adults.. you can also just.. sit there. My friends are pretty.. Loud?” “Okay.”

• jon had to take his hand back from damian since damian began eagerly tugging him.

“Damian seems to be accepting him pretty easily.” “I hope they can be friends, Jon.. doesn’t have any. I have only recently got him from his.. father.” “Odd, does he go to school?” “No, not yet, I’m still trying to get him adjusted.” “Ah.. Damian goes to West-Reeves. Maybe he could go there?” “That private school? Bruce.. I cannot afford that- not all of us are millionaires.” “Mhm.. I could pay.” “I can’t let you do that.” “He could get a scholarship.” “In what?” “Academics or athletics.” “Ill.. Talk to him about it. “ “well, ms lane, I just go talk with potential partners, I’ll see you later.”

—

• j got accepted into west reeves under a athletic thingy.

• that was cool. they became best friends!

• sorta

• flashforward 5 years to 15, their dynamic only grew. Damian told Jon his identity, jon didn’t become a hero, but did learn how to stitch damian up because tje idiot showed up bleeding a lot.

• everything was going great

On the phone, Damian: J! J! Guess what’

J: you’re so loud, D, what?

D: I got the lead! In the play!

J: no fucking way?

D: way!

J: Good j—— *crash*

D: J-?

D: J- Jonathan?

D: oh no.

• the call was ended abruptly. Jon always finished his sentences. Something was wrong. Something was really wrong.

• so damian called Lois quickly and ran downstairs to the batcave, lois wasn’t picking up either, she normally always picked up or at least sent a text. She did neither

“Baba!”

“Damian? You should be asleep.”

“Something’s wrong! Somethings really wrong!”

“Jon and Lois- Jon- I heard a crash- and- and”

“Habibi.”

“Mama?”

“Breathe; tell me what’s wrong.”

“I was on a call with Jon.. I told him about the play since I wanted him to go and stuff. Then I heard a crash. And then the line went dead. I’m scared— what if something happened!”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions, what happened with Lois?”

“She didn’t pick up the phone— she normally does! Or she texts me and says she will call back!”

“Maybe she is asleep.”

“No! You need to believe me!”

“Damian, calm down, I do, we will go to see if they’re okay, you get back to bed.”

“No. I’m coming with.”

“No you arent.”

“But!”

“Listen to your father.”

• okay fine. He’ll listen, damian went back up to his room for half an hour before calling his friends to do a rescue mission. He had an extra suit in his room, he can do this.

• with his team, it consisted of shazam, abuse, nobody, and green lantern, himself too, of course.

• captain marvel picked him up once he was ready and they met up with the other 3.

Maya: you said he’s in trouble?

Dami: Yes.

Colin: than let’s go save him!

• they went and saved the bestie, nearly got killed too

• oh and now damians sorta probably grounded when batman shows up 🤡

J:You came for me..?

D:We all did.. why are you so surprised?

J: * wraps his arms around damian * thank you

D: i- yeah.. anytime. what’re friends for?

• friends. Jon liked that. Jon also liked the way Damian’s cheeks went red when jon hugged him

• jon knew he chuckled before Damian’s arms wrapped around him. hard. Damian was a hard hugger

• jon became a superhero at 16. Damian had even more of a reason to sneak into his window every night now! Lois had began thinking the two were dating

D: Us? Dating? Please! He is way too good for me!

J:

L: awwww, gosh, how haven’t you been swept off your feet yet?

J: he has, but he has rejected them all

D: what can I say? I’m a gay theater kid ( this is a /j i promise a big big joke ) so they gotta be dramatic enough to put up with me, AND they need to do something big and bold to actually catch my eye

L: *laughs* take notes, jon

J: mom!

• jon has gone to a few of Damian’s plays and to dress rehearsals

• he was also there to watch damian wreck a car during his drivers test

D: there was a fricking squirrel there, J!

J: are you sure? maybe you’re just a shitty driver?

D: you’re a shitty driver!

J: cmon don’t pout

D: ‘m not!

• he was pouting. oopsie. jon did get him ice cream after

• jon goes by abnormal, because he’s an alien and because I don’t have any other ideas

J: this girl asked me out

M: oh? who! tell us!

D: ..what?

J: yeah, in my physics class

T: ooh! get it, jonno

M: give us a name, coward!

J: her name is Charlotte— but she goes by charlie. she’s.. different. red head. pretty freckles—

M: pretty freckles? does Jonny have a crush?! Oh my gosh, our sons growing up, Tai!

T: im about to start sobbing

J: fuck offff— D?

D: huh?

J: you’re being quiet, you plotting??

D: uh. yeah! duh- *he nudged jons shoulder with his, forcing a grin* figuring out ways to embarrass you in front of your girlfriend.

J: sucha brat- * jon ended up putting Damian into a playfully chokehold *

• damian just played along. he just smiled and watched as jon began walking with her instead of their friend group

M: hey- kid- you alright?

D: I’m onto a year younger than you Maya.

M: tou didn’t answer the question

D: I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be? You’re silly.

• tai ended up pulling him aside

T: when are you going to tell him?

D: how am I supposed to when he basically has a girlfriend now?

T: are you just gonna sit there and pine all day??

D: yes, thank you for understanding

• he’s a stubborn little shit and will absolutely not confess, his best friend is happy, who is he to ruin that?

T: he’s totally jealous.

J: so- do you- do you think it’ll work? That he’ll be surprised?

T: totally

J: thank you for lending me your girlfriend, Maya

M: anytime- not literally- you aren’t having her again

• this was all a trick, sorry, d.. jon does like you

• ( hope you all saw that foreshadowing earlier :) )

• damian needed big and dramatic. jon was gonna do that. even if he was uh. sorta aloof and shy.

• he learned how to sing and play the guitar for Damian. maya and tai were gonna scatter flower petals onto the floor for Damian to follow ( they will tell him too too )

• the whole school will probably watch as Damian finally gets a big dramatic proposal

• damian will love it

M: just follow the petals!

D: I’m confused

M: trust us

• damian did and followed the petals and low and behold, jon kent with a guitar and small smile

D: j-jon?

J: hey. I wrote you a song

D: no you didn’t

J: shut up and listen dumbass

*after that amazing song of how Jon asked damian out to homecoming*

D: that was amazing

J: dramatic enough for you?

D: YES! ( damian went and sprinted to jon, hugging him so tightly before leaning in to kiss him ) we are boyfriends now right

J: yeah, idiot

D: ur the idiot

• I can’t add anymore because myphones really laggy, I hope you enjot

[xxdragonwriterxx]

🔥The Angelus Mortis (1/2)🔥

A/N: Hey everyone, I’m back! I apologize for the really long wait but I wanted to try something different where, instead of posting one story at a time as soon as I finish it, I wrote five stories and then I went back and edited them in the order I wrote them. It took so long because I’ve been writing a ton in the past week.  Hopefully I can make up for the long wait by giving you guys several stories in the next few days or so. Thank you so much for the support on “Scalding”, I was not expecting it but it makes my really happy to know you guys liked it ❤️. Now, without further ado, here is my next Levi x Reader fic!

Warning: This one is super long so I actually had to split it up into two parts so it wouldn’t be such a huge pill to swallow. I will post the next chapter asap though, so keep an eye out for part two!

Summary: Erwin finds a dangerous assassin in the Underground while Levi is on a solo mission.

~~~

Erwin sighed and rubbed his temples to try to dispel the headache that was already building there, the message from the Military Police on his desk, mocking him. He glared at it, his eyes scanning over the words again.

Gods they were so incapable. He would never voice his frustrations aloud, but he wished, for once, they could deal with their own issues. Fight their own battles without having to drag the Survey Corps back to do all of the hard work for them. 

Despite his annoyance, Erwin would not have normally been so frustrated, but this situation was different than usual due to the fact that Captain Levi was gone from the base. He had been sent off on a solo mission to get some more information for Erwin on the movements of the violent gangsters that were fighting with one of the Military Police branches.

“What’s today’s headache about?” The loud, chipper voice of his girlfriend, Hanji, made him look up and grunt at her and the stack of finished reports she held in her arms.

“Oh, I just received a message from the Commander of the Military Police. There is a dangerous assassin who has been cutting down the MP’s that venture into the Underground. Apparently, this guy is impossible to catch and incredibly ruthless, known to leave pieces of the soldiers around for the officers to find later. They want us to go down there and find them, put an end to them before they wipe out an entire regiment.”

Hanji leaned her hip against Erwin’s desk and raised her eyebrow at her partner as she listened to the gruesome things the assassin had done.

“Holy shit…, who are you going to send? Levi is on that solo mission,” Hanji said.

“Yeah that’s the problem,” Erwin responded. “I’m going to have to be the one to go. I’m not going to send someone who will lose their life on this mission. There is no need to waste lives on something as trivial as catching this guy. Also, if he’s impossible to catch, the only one other than me who has enough experience with the ODM gear to navigate the Underground would be Levi, who you pointed out is not here at the moment.”

“Well, I’m coming with you then,” Hanji said. “Someone will need to watch your back, and be there to bring you back to the surface if you end up getting your ass handed to you.”

Erwin smiled at her as he shook his head.

“I’m not going to lose this fight.”

“Oh ho ho, tough guy! Such confidence, I can’t wait to watch your ass hit the ground when that assassin shows you a couple of choice moves,” Hanji chortled.

“Your obsession with my ass is noted. Now go get ready, we are leaving in an hour,” Erwin said, his eyes twinkling as he teased her.

Hanji’s laughter bounced around the halls as she exited his office to pack her things and prepare for the trip to the Underground.

__________________________

Levi grumbled lowly to himself as he nursed a glass of whiskey, his silver eyes appraising the other people in the bar in annoyance. The Captain was not normally one to drink, especially back at the base, but after having to deal with some of the most annoying people on the planet, he felt as if he deserved to relax a little.

At least neither Erwin nor Hanji were with him. That was one of the only reasons he was able to convince himself to go into the old bar; not having to worry about Erwin pressuring him to loosen up, or Hanji trying to wrestle secrets about his life out of him while he was drunk.

Levi took a sip from his glass. The alcohol slid down his throat, leaving a fiery trail in its wake to settle in his stomach, the warmth spreading throughout his gut. The whiskey was starting to loosen the headache that was holding his skull captive, allowing the usually stoic Captain to settle a bit more in his seat, enjoying the relative silence of the dingy establishment.

All day he had been forced to fight with violent gangsters, helping one of the Military Police branches arrest the most aggressive ones and scaring away the others. The whole day had been a loud, frustrating, exhausting experience, making Levi almost miss his normal expeditions outside the walls with the Titans. At least it was his last day in this shit hole, finally able to return to the base in the morning now that all of the criminals had been successfully rounded up.

Thinking about the men and women he had helped put away that day, combined with the alcohol that was circulating through his system, made his mind stray back to memories from his Underground days. For the most part, he tried to forget about his past, thoughts about his time down there, only bringing up bitter emotions. It was like reliving a nightmare over and over again. 

He huffed as he tried to lead his train of thought elsewhere to no avail, his mind flooding with images from his childhood, his struggle as he and his friends fought for survival. His mind even dragged up a foggy image of a beautiful face from the dregs of his past before he quickly diverted his train of thought, refusing to think about that face, that loving smile.

Levi didn’t know if he was lucky or unlucky when his spiraling thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the appearance of a woman. She wearing a severe red dress that pushed her cleavage up so her breasts were almost spilling out over the top, her lips pursed as she sat herself across from him.

Levi refrained from groaning aloud in frustration, wanting absolutely nothing to do with the woman in front of him, but also recognizing that a tiny part of him was grateful for her intrusion, distracting him from sinking further into the dark memories of his past. Now, he just had to figure out how to shrug this woman off as she leaned forward, so obviously trying to get into his pants he was surprised there was not a ‘FUCK ME’ sign strapped to her chest.

Levi scowled and pulled away from her when she went to touch his arm. To his annoyance, the woman laughed instead of moving away, her eyes sparkling with barely disguised lust as she looked him up and down.

“Look, I’m not interested,” Levi said bluntly.

“Come on, handsome, it won’t hurt for you to relax, why don’t we ditch this joint?” the woman purred.

Levi rolled his eyes so hard he was worried he’d strained something. The situation reminded him of all of the times Hanji had tried to set him up, ignoring his protests and forcing him to meet women from all walks of life despite the fact that he turned them all down without a second thought. It bothered him to no end, not only because it was annoying as hell, but also because there was only one person he had ever given his heart to, and she was gone. Nobody could ever replace her, it didn’t matter that she wasn't around to love him anymore, he refused to be with anyone else.

He figured some people would probably see this as childish, but he didn’t care. To him, he didn’t have a heart left to give, the organ dying with his lost love all those years ago.

“Not interested.”

The woman pouted but moved closer still, practically leaning into him despite his grimace of disgust.

“You don’t mean that, baby, you look like you could use a good time. Here, let me help you. I know exactly how to make you feel better. Have you ever felt the stars? Because you’re about to…,” the woman said boldly, her hand slowly drifting downward.

Levi stood up so fast he almost knocked the table over. His glare was fierce as he slammed his empty whiskey glass on the table. Piercing her with his sharp gaze, Levi snarled lowly at her.

“Not. Interested.”

Grabbing his cloak, Levi stormed out of the bar in even worse spirits than before, memories of the face that haunted his dreams floating across his mind to tease at the edges of his broken heart. Growling to himself, Levi was only grateful that he was leaving in the morning as his feet carried him back to the shitty inn he was staying in for the duration of the mission.

____________________________

This was a bad idea. Scratch that, this was a horrible idea. Erwin laid on the filthy street of the Underground, hidden in the shadows of an alleyway, holding his hand to his shoulder where a dagger was lodged, gritting his teeth as he fought back the bile that rose in his throat at the pain swelling in his body. 

He had no idea where Hanji was, the pair having been separated when they were attacked out of nowhere. Erwin realized now as he lay in the dirt that he had severely underestimated this man, the assassin who got hired to kill the most powerful soldiers and officers in the military. He had read about his strength, but even with that information, he had not expected the fight to be so overwhelming.

This man was dangerous. Very dangerous. Erwin knew from the reports that the killer worked alone, using wit and cold, calculated cunning to attack in ways that not even the veteran soldiers had seen before.

Erwin’s thoughts were suddenly cut short when he heard a pained shriek, one he immediately knew to be Hanji, and watched in horror as a figure slowly came around the corner, holding the limp form of his comrade in his grip.

Hanji let out another pained noise as the figure threw her right at Erwin, the Squad Leader hitting her Commander, causing them both to grunt. Looking down, Erwin saw that Hanji had a long gash down her side, but it didn’t look very deep and she didn’t seem to have any more wounds other than some bruising. A warning.

Erwin managed to hide his nearly imperceptible sigh of relief at the thought that this assassin was considering sparing them if they only left him alone. He knew that he could never leave the assassin alone forever, but if it gave them the chance to get to safety, he could come back another time with reinforcements. It was only one man. A very powerful man, but a man nonetheless, he wasn’t invincible.

Forcing down the whimper that bubbled in his throat when Hanji moved against his shoulder, shifting the blade in his flesh, Erwin locked his eyes on the figure that was still watching them, the darkness of the alley covering any distinguishable features. The only thing Erwin was able to make out was that the figure looked smaller than he imagined. But the seasoned Commander wasn’t stupid enough to determine his threat level based on size, not when one of his best friends was Levi Ackerman, one of the shortest yet deadliest men alive.

The pair tensed when the figure suddenly started towards them, his arm reaching back to procure a wickedly sharp sword from underneath his black cloak. Erwin’s mind scrambled for a plan but he came up blank, his mind ceasing all thoughts when the figure suddenly charged them, sword held aloft.

Erwin and Hanji closed their eyes, clutching each other as the killer came for them, both of them waiting for the quick sting of pain before death, waiting for their remains to be scattered around the Underground like Easter eggs for their friends to find when they came back to their empty offices and cold beds.

Erwin sucked in a breath when he felt the cold, harsh tip of the sword touch his throat but slowly opened his eyes after a moment when the feeling stayed there, the blade hovering just above his delicate wind pipe.

From this distance, Erwin could tell that the assassin was wearing a mask in the shape of a wolf over his face, his body poised to strike as he hovered over the pair of senior officers, his breathing labored.

“Are you Commander Erwin?” The man suddenly asked, the voice deep and distorted thanks to the mask.

Erwin contemplated lying for a second, but knew he didn’t really have a choice in the matter when the man pressed the tip of their blade a little bit harder against his flesh, even causing a pinprick of blood to bubble up from under the steel point.

“Yes.”

The man hesitated for a moment. It was almost as if he were remembering something, Erwin’s name bringing up memories from another time. The Commander had no fucking clue what that could mean for them, but he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to find out.

The assassin opened his mouth to say something when all of a sudden, several ropes were thrown from the darkness, catching the killer by surprise. He leaped out of the way, dodging the ropes at a speed that could only be rivaled by Captain Levi, almost making it out onto the street before he ran headfirst into a trap of chains, the metal clinking as it wrapped around his lithe form and tightened, forcing his arms to snap to his sides and his legs to buckle.

Erwin and Hanji scrambled into a standing position and smiled in joyful surprise as a familiar Mike, Nanaba, and Moblit rounded the corner. Erwin sighed in relief and Hanji let loose a little cheer as the three other veteran officers surrounded their quarry. The pair had no idea how their friends had found them or even why they had thought to follow them, but neither cared as relief filled their systems.

The assassin snarled at them and continued to struggle against their bounds, his mask making the words coming from his mouth sound nearly animalistic in nature.

“Fuck you!” The assassin roared, somehow finding the energy to fight harder as the veterans leaned down to detain the criminal. The soldiers ignored the assassin as he continued spewing profanities while they made their way towards the stairs, their mission complete.

___________________________

Erwin blinked in utter shock as he stared at the assassin through the bars of the cell they had shoved him in underneath the Survey Corps HQ.

Only, it wasn’t a him.

Erwin could only gawk as the reality of the situation settled in, his eyes roving over the assassin’s (h/l) (h/c) hair, feminine curves, and beautifully angled face. The strongest assassin in the Underground, the one that had been dubbed The Angelus Mortis, The Angel of Death, was a woman.

He never doubted that women were strong, he trained and fought beside a whole legion of strong, battleworn women that could take down anyone in a heartbeat any day. But this woman had come from the Underground. While not impossible to gain strength in the Underground, most women, and many men for that matter, that lived in that cesspool merely ended up rotting away, their legs destroyed by the lack of sunlight and their bodies wracked with disease. Even if a woman managed to avoid the severe malnourishment, most of them were forced into brothels to be used by the wealthy merchants and nobles who decided to flaunt their wealth in the poorest part of their cities.

But this woman had fought. She had fought like an animal, a wolf, as her mask had suggested. She had used her impressive intelligence and strategic mind to avoid getting caught, all while clawing her way to the top of the food chain, making herself such a feared symbol that nobody would touch her. She was cold and vicious but not at all feral, her mind sharp and her eyes clear as she stared right back at the giant blonde Commander, her gaze never drifting from his.

Erwin leaned back as he appraised her. He could tell that despite her strength, her body was severely malnourished and neglected, the lack of proper food and water paired with the intense physical labor she pushed herself through every day, rendered her body weak and thin. Erwin could tell right away that if she were given the proper commodities and nursed back to health, she would be stunning and very powerful.

He had to think about this carefully. He had sent in an after action report to the MP’s telling them that the Survey Corps had done their dirty work for them, and they had already responded with a message telling him to bring her to one of their prison cells the next morning to be tortured to death for her crimes. He knew she probably deserved a punishment like that, she had killed a lot of soldiers, but he felt a strange tugging on his heart, like he knew, deep down, that there was more to her story, something that would make her worth much more than a street rat to be thrown to the dogs.

He had no idea why but he wanted her in the Survey Corps. He knew that she was dangerous, knew that most people would call her insane and then call him insane if he brought this up. But he felt something, like he knew that if he didn’t get her into the military, they would be losing something priceless.

“Are you going to keep staring at me like a perverted fuck or are you going to tell me when I’m being taken away?”

Erwin’s eyes snapped to hers from where they had drifted to her ribs, which were jutting out of her chest prominently. 

“I knew you were going to be testy, sassy even, maybe downright insane, but I didn’t expect someone so close to death to be so confident,” Erwin said, a smirk teasing the corner of his lips.

The assassin rolled her eyes.

“I’m from the Underground, idiot, death is always a constant companion on your shoulder. I’m not scared of death, scared of the torture before death, maybe, if I decide I care enough, but not of death.”

“Is that why you killed all of those people? Because death is your friend?” Erwin asked.

“Don’t be stupid.”

“That is what you said.”

“I only said it is something I am used to, the constant threat of death and suffering, not that I enjoy it. Death is not my friend,” She growled with a sharp glare in his direction.

“So why did you kill all of those soldiers? Besides being hired to, I mean. I’d understand your motivations a little more if you had started killing other people who lived in the Underground, to give yourself an advantage, but you chose soldiers.”

The assassin was silent for a minute, breaking his gaze for the first time since he had come down to see her. He could’ve sworn her gaze clouded over slightly, as if she were remembering painful memories, but the fog in her gaze was gone as quickly as it appeared, making Erwin question whether it was even there to begin with.

“That’s personal,” she said after a heavy pause.

“They didn’t compliment your outfit?” Erwin teased, flashing a smile in her direction when she snarled at him.

“Fuck you.”

“Alright fine,” Erwin said. “Why did you ask about me? About my name?”

“That’s personal too.”

“Well you’ve got to answer at least some of my questions.”

“Why should I care about you and your inquiries?” She asked, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms in a way that reminded Erwin so much of Levi he almost smiled.

“Because it might guarantee you your life,” Erwin said.

“Who says I care about living?”

Erwin was silent for a moment this time as he scanned her with his bright blue eyes again, really taking her in. She was something, he could say that. She was unlike anyone he had ever met before. Even Levi, with his similar distrusting nature and sharp, piercing gaze was never this witty, never this sassy.

“I say you do,” Erwin said.

“Oh really? And what makes you the authority on that?”

“Nothing. You are the authority on yourself, on your emotions and instincts. I am merely an observer in this matter. I can see it in your eyes, I can read it in your posture and spot it even in the methods of your actions. In why you became an assassin, and the best one at that.”

She stayed quiet, watching him.

“I know you want to live. I don’t know anything about the personal shit that went down between you and the Military Police but I’m assuming that whatever it was was crippling, which was why you went to such drastic measures to make it to the top, to do whatever it took to make them hurt and scream. Why you never even attempted to hide the bodies. I know some people claim it was because you are cocky or egotistical, but I know better.”

Erwin leaned forward, his eyes glinting in the dull golden light of the lantern hanging on the wall. The assassin again said nothing but she never stopped watching him, playing into this game they had started, dancing on hot coals.

“Just from the fact that you did all of that. That you chose to fight back against your grief rather than succumb to it, rotting away in a forgettable corner of the Underground, shows me that you want to live. That you want to give yourself a purpose to cover up whatever loss you have felt in the past, and use it to fuel your own future.”

The assassin’s eyes narrowed on him as she pushed away from the stone wall of the cell. “I’m impressed.”

“Not quite so much of an idiot anymore, right?”

She glared at him and the smirk that spread across his face.

“(Y/N).”

“What?”

“My name is (Y/N).”

[soshesighs]

Fic: Careful

Fandom: @mindblindbard

Pairing: Gray/Button

Word Count: ~6,200

Summary: Soulmate!AU in which when two fated people first touch, their names appear tattooed on the other person's wrist. In five years, Button and Gray have never come in contact with each other, until one day... they do.

Note: In this story, Nick and Sally are already in a relationship/are soulmates. Also, my (f!)Button goes by Stevie (her full name is Stella Verbena Wiseman, because I had to follow the flower middle name Nick got; she's not crazy about her full name, though, so she uses a portmanteau of her first and middle name together), though Sally has been known to shorten that even further to just V. There's a longer note at the end, explaining why one aspect of this might seem familiar, if you're so inclined to read it!

---

(11:48 am): STAY AWAY FROM 7TH AND ELM.

Stevie blinks down at her phone. It isn’t unusual to get random warning texts from Sally whenever the two are apart - eventually, after being away from the mental shielding that Stevie grants her, Sally’s visions always return with a vengeance - but usually there’s a bit more to go on, some follow up texts that explain a bit more about whatever it is that Sally has seen. But not today, apparently.

Cocking her head to the side, Stevie types her reply.

(11:54 am): I thought your dads said no phones on vacation. Did you get it back?

As she sits there waiting for a reply, Nick plops down on the couch next to her with a groan, dropping his head into her lap and following it up with an (overly-dramatic, if Stevie has any say on it) hacking cough. “Button, I’m dying.”

Stevie almost manages to avoid rolling her eyes. Almost. But she still starts stroking her hand through his hair in what she hopes is a comforting way anyway. Her brother may be an absolute dork, but he’s her dork. “You’re not dying, Saint Nick,” she says fondly. “You have a cold, which I tried to warn you was going to happen after your last mission left you drenched, but did you listen to me? Of course not.”

Her phone buzzes where it sits on her thigh. She swipes to unlock it, glancing down to quickly read Sally’s latest text.

(11:56 am): NO, I STOLE IT BACK. THIS IS IMPORTANT.

Her brow furrows, and she stops petting Nick long enough to grab her phone and reply once more.

(11:58 am): Okay, okay, I’m listening. Any more you can give me to go on?

(12:01 pm): NO DETAILS, JUST STAY OUT OF THE STREETS. BE CAREFUL, V.

(12:01 pm): P.S. IS NICHOLAS OKAY?

Nick’s heard the last bit of their conversation in her mind as she thinks over the texts, and he looks up at her with trademark puppy dog eyes. Tell her to stop worrying, I’m fine. Or, alternatively, let me talk to her and I’ll tell her myself?

She frowns, hating to be the bearer of bad news. She technically can’t have her phone yet, sorry. She snuck it from her dads to give me a head’s up on something.

Nick’s sighing really becomes dramatic then. Apparently a week away from his girlfriend, even with his sister and best friend there to keep him occupied, is too much for him to handle. Stevie decides to answer quickly so that she can go back to giving him her full attention.

(12:05 pm): He’s a bit worse today, but nothing awful. A bit of a temperature and a cough that doesn’t want to go away. Gray and I are keeping an eye on him. And by that I mean that Gray forced him to take some PTO, and I’m keeping him fed and hydrated.

(12:06 pm): He, however, claims he’s dying, so if you have any last words…

Sally’s replies arrive almost instantaneously, and Stevie can’t help but chuckle to herself.

(12:08 pm): TELL HIM TO SHUT UP AND TAKE CARE OF HIMSELF

(12:09 pm): ...ALSO TELL HIM I MISS HIM

Nick cranes his neck over to see what his sister seems to find so funny that it steals her attention from his complaining. “Tell Salome that I-” he begins, only to end up with a face full of throw pillow.

“Tell her yourself later, you nerd. I’m your sister, not your secretary!” Stevie quips, following it up by sticking her tongue out at him. (Nick responds immediately in kind.)

One final text comes in from Sally, letting them know that her dads found her and took her phone back. Stevie hopes she doesn’t end up in too much trouble for texting her; after all, she was only trying to help her and keep her safe.

Before she can decide if she should call Sally’s dads to explain and plead on her behalf, a voice drifts in from the living room doorway, making both her and Nick sit up straighter to turn around and see.

"Is Nick being demanding again?"

Nick flops back into her lap as Gray walks over, putting his hands on the arm of the couch and leaning in as he talks to them. He makes sure to still stay a safe foot or so away from Stevie so as not to invade her personal mental space - so careful, always so careful. (She wishes he weren’t, has tried to tell him so, but he always smiles his careful smile and stays a few steps away.)

His presence interrupts and breaks apart the ridiculous fight between the siblings, and he knows it. He quirks an eyebrow, waiting for a reply. Stevie says, "Always" at the exact same time that Nick chimes in with a faux offended, "Never! And aren't you supposed to be on my side?"

He tries not to smile at their lovable bickering, but Gray’s affection for them both wins out. He shakes his head fondly at their antics, a common expression for him; the movement jostles a strand of his hair free, and he reaches up to attempt to push it into place, off his forehead and behind his ear. (It’s short enough that it won’t really stay, though, almost immediately falling back down. He tries twice more in vain to fix it before eventually accepting his fate. Stevie tries not to notice. Nick’s quiet snickering, complete with projected cartoon eye roll, in her mind tells her she fails.)

"Sorry, not this time, Nick,” he begins. “Stevie's only trying to help you get well, you know. You should be thanking her.”

Nick mumbles out something that sounds very distinctly like ‘Of course you take her side.’

“What was that?” Stevie asks, poking him in the side. Gray, meanwhile, has taken another step backwards, hands off the couch, which makes her prod Nick even harder in frustration.

Don’t say things like that! You make him even more distant.

Her brother looks up at her, genuine apology written clear across his features. Sorry, Button. There’s only so much pining a man can take in silence before getting lost in the woods! If you’d just tell him-

I tried that, remember? He very gracefully turned me down.

Because you were a kid, and he was in his 20s! You’re on an even playing field now! Wait, I lost the forest metaphor somewhere along the way...

With a sigh, Stevie tries to push the memories away before a flush can creep onto her cheeks. And I’ve told you a million times before, it’s not worth messing up what we have now. I’m glad he and I are good friends. Besides, Gray keeps his wrists covered for a reason, Nick. There’s probably already a name there that he’s trying to keep safe.

Nick begins to make a mental noise of protest, but Stevie quickly cuts him off by blasting the first song that comes to mind in her head, effectively screaming ‘We’re not talking about this anymore!’

Gray clears his throat, nervously shifting his weight ever so slightly on his feet as he realizes the siblings had been talking telepathically, and tries to make a graceful exit. “Well, I should start getting ready to go. I have to report in for a meeting at 2.”

“Sorry,” Nick says, between more coughing fits. Stevie hands him her bottle of water from the coffee table, which he drinks from gratefully. “You know how it is; it’s just faster sometimes.”

His partner nods, but still takes another step backwards as he makes to leave, one hand idly twirling the cuff on the opposite arm. Nick’s eyes dart down, clocking the action, and he frowns.

“Grayson,” he starts, his full name use and serious tone somewhat belittled by the fact that he’s still lying down with his head in Stevie’s lap. “I’ve told you a million times that you don’t need to wear those here. Nobody in this house - and nobody who Button and I would let in this house - would betray you.”

Gray sags a bit, exhaling a small frustrated sound. “And I’ve told you a million times that it isn’t either of you or any of our friends that I don’t trust, it’s myself. The second I start taking them off is the second I forget to put them back on.”

Stevie swats at Nick’s chest, scowling at him a bit when he looks up at her in mock anger. “Leave him be, Nick. You of all people should understand why he doesn’t want to risk it, what with both of you having some... slightly overzealous fans.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Nick says with a groan. “But Salome and I have managed fine! Sure, it was breaking news for a while when we decided to stop hiding our marks, but people got over it.” He rubs a hand over his chest, pretending to massage away the ache of his sister’s (very light, she thinks pointedly at him) slap, then grabs her arm and gestures at it. “Look, Stevie doesn’t cover her arms!”

“I’m not in the public eye anywhere near as much as you two are,” she protests, snatching her arm free. “Besides, it’s... different for me. People have other things to try to use against me besides my bare wrists.” Stevie taps the side of her head with a wry, sad smile.

“And you think people wouldn’t focus on other things about Gray? His devilishly good looks? The oh-so-charming accent? The way his-...”

Holding up a hand, Gray cuts off the conversation there. “We’ve talked this over in circles, Nick. I’m afraid you won’t change my mind. Public marks are dangerous in our line of work.”

It feels like a punch to the gut to Stevie, like someone reached their hand straight into her chest and squeezed her heart tight in their first, like someone stole the breath straight from her lungs. So he does have a mark, she thinks, squeezing her eyes shut tight. I should’ve known.

Nick blindly grabs her hand, giving it a squeeze that one might even generously consider a death grip, though his eyes are locked with Gray in a silent (intense, from her observation of their expressions) conversation. She has no idea what they’re discussing, but it clearly doesn’t involve her. She returns Nick’s squeeze, but then carefully begins to pry her hand free and shift out from underneath him, needing to extract herself from the situation. She needs air, fresh air - maybe someplace far away where she can let out the pained scream wanting to burst out of her; she needs out.

Her movement seems to break into their conversation, and Gray shifts his regard to her. “Heading out? I thought one of us was staying with Nick.”

“I don’t need to be babysat,” the aforementioned sick man protests. “I’ll be a good patient, I swear.”

“He’ll be fine,” Stevie says, voice wobbling. She pulls herself up straighter, as if her posture could hold her together entirely. “I’m just going to go for a walk, get some fresh air. We’ve all been cooped up in here for the last few days.”

She can actually see the moment that a lightbulb goes off in Nick’s head, making him sit up quickly from the couch. But the sudden change in equilibrium seems to leave him dizzy; he brings a hand up to his forehead with wide eyes, causing both Stevie and Gray to reach out towards him should he start to fall. Nick shakes his head after a second, though, and rights himself. He tries to reassure them that he’s fine, but his sister and Gray both wear twin expressions of concern. At least now her focus is back on Nick and not on her own crushed heart.

Stevie sets her hand on his shoulder once he seems to finally be steady. “You should lay down. You need to rest, Saint Nick - and really rest, not stay up all day and night playing video games. You’re sick, not on a vacation.” She bites her lip before quietly confessing, “I’m worried about you. Do it for me, okay?”

Nick looks over at her and moans. “You know I can’t resist that face, Button.”

A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, an uneven, tilted smile. It’s a small thing, her own feelings and worry still winning out, but it’s there. “I know. So what do you say?”

“I say… if you’re already going out, can you guys do me a favor?”

---

Within a few minutes, Stevie and Gray are on their way to go pick up a takeout order for Nick - some soup that, hopefully, will both fill him up and bring him some comfort. But Nick, being as particular as he is about foods and flavors, wants them to pick it up from a specific deli on the other side of town. Stevie hasn’t been there before, but she’s grateful that she at least won’t have to find it alone.

The fresh air does wonders to calm her down as well. She takes in big gulps of it, arms spread wide to feel the sun and wind on her skin, and gives a small twirling hop step as they start heading out. Sure, her heart feels like it’s been shattered into tiny pieces and is rattling around freely in her chest, but at least now she doesn’t feel trapped and contained. Besides, if Stevie Wiseman has gotten good at anything over the years, it’s burying her emotions and putting on a brave face - and she knows if she wants to retain her friendship with Gray, she needs to act like she’s fine around him.

Gray, on the other hand, looks outwardly uncomfortable. He keeps tugging on the brim of his hat, pulling it further and further down over his eyes (which seem to be darting around constantly to keep an eye on their surroundings, if his ever-moving head is any indication). He’s also making sure to stay on the far opposite edge of the sidewalk, giving her most of the pathway to herself. She can’t help but wonder if it’s lingering discomfort from whatever that last conversation with Nick had been.

“You didn’t have to come,” Stevie finally says, breaking their mutual silence. “That is - I mean… not that I don't want you here! I just mean, well... I know you have a meeting soon, so if you don’t have the time, I understand.”

Smooth, Wiseman. Real smooth, she thinks. He’ll never notice a thing.

He freezes mid-step and looks over at her, and she wonders exactly what expression he’s making under that cap and sunglasses, what’s going on in his head - one of the many times she’d kill for Nick’s abilities. “I wanted to,” Gray replies, voice barely audible over the busy sounds of the surrounding Chicago streets.

She turns away before (she hopes) he can see her blush. He doesn’t mean it like that, she tries to remind herself.

“Well, thank you for the company, then,” she settles on saying, trying to remember how to convince her feet to start walking again. Hopefully her voice sounds more calm and collected than she feels. “And thanks for the help keeping Nick contained this week. I know it’s hard for him to step away from work and rest, and I also know enough to recognize that he wouldn’t listen to just me about it.”

"For a man who constantly proclaims you the smartest person he knows, he doesn't listen well, does he?" Gray teases.

Stevie can’t help but groan. “You’re telling me. It’s not like I know him better than anyone else or anything,” she says sarcastically, then immediately shooting a glance at him and wincing a bit. “Sorry, I didn't mean-"

He holds his hands up, shaking his head. “No offense taken. I’m sure you do. I can’t compete with a sibling bond, or certainly not like the one you two have, at least.”

They pause at a light, waiting for the sign to give them the okay to cross. Stevie can feel Gray’s eyes on her back, and it leaves her itching to turn around. If the world were slightly less cruel, if the physical space between them weren’t a constant upkeep and if fate had consented to match them together, she might dig deep within herself and find the bravery to reach out and finally grab his hand, thread their fingers together, tug him out onto the crosswalk with a teasing smile and a playful “Let’s go, cookie monster, we’re running out of time.”

But that’s not them. He has someone, she has to remember that. And the two of them? They’re a constant mindful dance around each other, a deliberate six inches at least (usually a foot, if not more), always careful.

(She hates that word.)

Stevie glances back for a split second. “Fidgeting,” comes the mumble, and she doesn’t even fully realize that she’s spoken aloud.

Gray makes a questioning noise, immediately bringing his gaze to meet hers.

The light changes, so she steps out to continue their journey and tries to keep her voice even. “When you’re nervous, you fidget, especially if you’re all… incognito. When you're uncomfortable, I should say. You tend to readjust your hat, push up your glasses, fix your hair. ” She clears her throat, suddenly nervous. “Rebuckle your cuffs, whether that’s these separate ones or your shirt sleeves. Twist them around, like earlier."

The deli that they’re heading to is at most only a couple of blocks down now; Stevie can see the sign from here, a bright neon thing blinking in perfect rhythm. She times her breathing to it in an attempt to quiet her pounding heart.

He tries to smile, but Stevie knows by now what a real smile from Gray looks like and what his plastered-on media smile does, and this is most definitely the latter. She took it too far, she knew the moment the topic changed to even skirt the edges of his mysterious marks that she’d said too much, but something about being around him makes her lose her filter.

“Well,” he begins, clearing his throat around that fake expression, “You’re quite observant. But unfortunately, not all of us are as brave as you are, Stella.”

Her head whips around then, because Gray never uses her full first name - nobody around her does really, aside from her parents - and she finds herself frozen right in front of the door they should be entering.

“You called me Stella.”

He rebends the brim of his hat. “Apologies, Stevie." Shifts his feet. "I know you don’t prefer it.”

"It's okay," she hears herself saying, so soft even to her own ears that she thinks the words may have been lost to the wind. "From you, I don't mind."

Stevie winces internally; it’s going to take a while to build up a better filter around him. She tries to meet his eyes, but only sees her own (bright red) face in his mirrored lenses; she dimly hopes that he might not notice, or perhaps chalk it up to the day's warmer weather. After a moment, she shakes her head, breaking free of whatever spell hearing Grayson Black quietly say her full first name had put her under. "Anyway, this is the place. Shall we?"

---

Gray follows behind her, having held the door open to let her enter first, and it closes behind them both with a soft tinkling of bells. The first thing Stevie notices is that it isn’t an incredibly busy place; there’s only two tables occupied out of the entire restaurant floor, both up against the windows on the other side of the room and seemingly taken up by one big group. The second thing is that it smells amazing. Her stomach growls in agreement almost immediately, and she throws her hands over it as if that could make it quiet down.

She chuckles, trying to downplay her own embarrassment. “I think I’ll grab something while we’re here to take home for myself as well.” Glancing back at him over her shoulder, she asks, “What about you? Going to grab anything to-go before your meeting, or did you already eat?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but instead seems to quickly glance past her, a frown forming. Stevie’s about to ask what’s got him so upset when someone slams into her with a shoulder check, making her stumble backwards - almost right into Gray, but not quite, as he manages to bounce back a step in time.

“Out of the way, freak,” the person mutters at her, before shoving past her again and immediately out the door.

Gray acts like he’s going to follow, pivoting on the spot, but Stevie tosses a hand out towards him. “Don’t,” she pleads. “They’re not worth it. It’s fine, Gray. I’m used to it.”

He turns back toward her, and his anger softens in a second, seeming to fade off his features the moment he looks at her. “You shouldn’t have to be.”

Stevie swallows hard, fingering the strap of her crossbody bag, readjusting it very deliberately and meticulously to avoid meeting his eyes again. “I know. But it’s how it’s always been. Can we just… get the food and go?”

It takes him a second to answer, and Stevie knows he’s still considering going out after the guy and - and what? He wouldn’t ever retaliate against him; Gray’s too good a guy for that. Maybe give him a stern talking to? But that would give him away entirely, ruining his already flimsy disguise. He’d be surrounded in minutes; Stevie’s seen it happen enough times to know it’s true. They both know that no good could or would come from it.

“Okay,” he finally agrees. “But I’m walking back with you. I’ll leave for the meeting after.”

She won’t admit it outloud, but the relief that floods through her knowing that she won’t have to make the walk alone is palpable for Stevie. What she said is true: she’s fairly used to people making comments under their breath at her, but it doesn’t often escalate into anything physical. And while Nick, Gray, and all their friends had made sure that she knew how to defend herself if push comes to literal shove, she’d always rather not fight. Admitting that the (fairly innocuous, she realizes) interaction has shaken her up a bit (she blames her already fragile emotional state) isn’t something she’s keen to do. So she just nods in reply, grateful, before turning to walk up to the deli counter.

“Picking up an order for Nicholas, please? I have the order number and confirmation right here on my phone. And I’d like to get a second entrée while I’m here as well.”

---

Stevie leaves the restaurant before Gray. While he’s still waiting for his order, she grabs the bag with her food and Nick’s and says she’s going to wait outside, that she needs the air. She can tell that Gray is uneasy about it, but he relents and nods, saying he should be out in a minute or so. She gives him what she hopes is a reassuring smile, and pushes out the door.

But the moment she steps outside, she knows something is wrong.

A shadow blocks her path, despite it being midday, and a pair of shoes is suddenly right in her line of sight. Recognizable, perfectly shined, name-brand dress shoes.

Shoes she’d just seen as her classmate shoved into her and left the restaurant in a huff. Shoes that had just as often tried to trip her up in the halls of Aeon.

“Going somewhere?”

She snaps her head up, and - in the most deadly calm voice she can manage - says, “Move out of my way, please.”

The guy pretends to think, tapping his fingers on his chin, before a wolfish grin starts to spread on his face. “You know, I don’t think I will.”

“What’s your problem with me?” Stevie snaps, rolling her eyes. “If I bother you that much, then leave.”

“Like your little boyfriend did? Not here now, I see. Who is he?” he asks, taking another step closer to Stevie. She knows she can’t let him box her in, so she fakes to his left before pivoting around his right, trying to get around and away from him. Her momentum, however, is slowed due to the weight of the bags of food in her arms. Before she knows it, he has her backed against a streetlamp. “Obviously no one important, since he didn’t stick around. He sick of your noise already?”

His eyes glance down at her full hands, noting her empty wrists. “Or maybe he got tired of playing pretend? I notice his wrists were covered. He kick you to the curb to go after his real soulmate?”

Stevie grits her teeth, turning her head away; she doesn’t want to rise to this asshole’s provocation, doesn’t want to give away how painfully close to the truth he might be.

“Even fate doesn’t think anyone could put up with you forever, Wiseman.” He reaches out then, making to wrap his hand around her wrist, and on instinct she kicks her knee up - and she knows instantly that she’s accurately found her target as the guy stumbles back and doubles over.

“You’ll pay for that,” he pushes out past a groan.

Four things happen then in quick succession:

The first being that the door to the restaurant pushes open with a light chiming of bells, a sound far too cheery for Stevie’s current situation. She snaps her head up, meeting the fixed, shocked stare of one Grayson Black, just as he tucks his sunglasses onto the neck of his shirt.

The second thing is that the guy - who also glanced behind him quickly to see whether the newcomer to their situation was one of his friends or someone to worry about - mumbles a shocked, “Oh shit,” before turning back around towards Stevie with wide eyes, realizing that Gray is indeed ‘someone to worry about.’

The third is that he shoves at Stevie as hard as he can before making a beeline out of the situation, running off down some side alley and disappearing almost as quickly as he’d slid into Stevie’s line of sight earlier.

And the fourth and final thing is that she goes tumbling back - arms still full and totally unable to stop her fall - causing her heel to slip off the curb and sending Stevie sprawling into the intersection at the corner of 7th and Elm Street.

---

Stevie’s heart drops.

Her arms pinwheel as she tries to regain her balance, the takeout bags flying somewhere off to her sides, and after a second she squeezes her eyes shut tight, resigned to whatever serious injury is about to befall her. Somewhere in the distance, she hears someone laying on their horn, blaring down Elm towards her.

But the impact never comes.

Before she stumbles completely, before she can fall flat onto her back, before the oncoming traffic can slam into her flailing body, Gray crosses the concrete path between them, grabs her arm, and pulls. Her center of gravity flips on a dime, sending her instead tumbling forward to crash hard into his chest; the impact knocks them both backwards, but he immediately wraps his arms around her and spins them around on the spot, baring his back to the busy street to take whatever blow might come in her stead and placing her once again on the relative safety of the sidewalk.

Both their eyes are still clenched tight, breath coming in ragged, choking gasps, as some random pedestrian comes up yelling, asking if they’re okay.

She manages to nod, but she’s not sure it’s very convincing, given that she’s still attempting to stave off the panic threatening to overtake her and sucking in huge gulps of air.

“Careful! Breathe, Stevie,” a calming voice says. She’s fairly certain she recognizes the voice, but right now the only thing she registers is the slamming of her own heartbeat in her own ears. “Try to match me. You’re okay, look at me - look at me, okay? You’re alright. It’s okay.”

Someone lowers her to the ground, the two of them falling into a graceless heap of tangled, trembling limbs. Gentle hands smooth down her hair, pulling it back from her neck and helping her lean forward as she continues to hyperventilate. She vaguely registers someone asking if they should call for paramedics, another quiet voice saying no, disclosing that she doesn’t like doctors.

She covers her eyes with her shaking hands, trying to block out the chaos around her so that she can focus on calming down. Usually by now, Nick would’ve interrupted her panic attack with a series of unimportant, unrelated questions, but he must have finally fallen asleep.

Good, some tiny part of her mind chimes, but her focus can’t remain on her sick brother for long before another tidal wave of adrenaline crashes over her, taking any and all external thoughts with it out to sea.

A hand rubs up and down her spine, silently reassuring her that she’s not alone. Somewhere, a voice - the same person? - is counting softly into her ear. It takes her a moment, but in time she realizes they’re counting breaths.

She struggles to fall in line with their tempo, but little by little she does. The edges of her vision start to clear, the gripping sensation around her chest starts to loosen, and her limbs become stiff and heavy as she slowly, so slowly, stops shaking like a leaf.

“Are you with me?” the kind voice asks, and her mind finally reconnects that it’s Gray - that he’s the one that pulled her back, that he’s sat with her in the middle of a busy sidewalk for the last five minutes as she comes back down, that somehow he’s gotten the tiny crowd they’d gathered to disperse and give her air.

Her forehead comes to rest on her knees, but eventually she nods. She mumbles out a continuous stream of thank yous, seeming to be the only words she can form at first.

At long last, she croaks out, “You saved my life.”

Gray’s hand still massages up and down her back, trying to help her stay grounded. “It is kind of my job,” he jokes, though his voice is strained with the attempt to turn their afternoon into something lighthearted.

Stevie leans back, resting her head against his chest with a soft chuckle. “That it is, superhero.”

It takes a moment for his words to fully sink in. A couple of deep breaths later, though, and she springs back from his hold, eyes wide. “Your job! The meeting, you were supposed to-” she starts.

He holds his hands out towards her, like one might in an attempt to comfort a startled animal, obviously hoping she doesn’t work herself up into a frenzy again. When it appears she’s not going to run at his touch, he sets his hands on her shoulders. “It’s okay, Stevie, don’t worry about it. Unity will have already heard what happened by now. I’d be surprised if someone hasn’t contacted Nick as well.”

She groans at that, dropping her head into her hands again. “Great, now he’ll never let me out of his sight again.”

“That’s what you’re worried about right now?” Gray asks around a deep laugh, sounding utterly disbelieving. “Nevermind that you only narrowly avoided falling victim to a pedestrian accident, of course.”

“You know how overprotective Nick is. Of course that’s what I’m wor- ahh!” she cuts herself off with a hiss of pain, pulling her arms close to her chest with a wince.

Gray’s hands tighten on her shoulders as his eyes dart over her entire form. “What is it?” he asks. “Are you hurt?”

But Stevie doesn’t answer, she just stares down, eyes growing wider by the second. Gray pleads for her to answer him, asking again if she’s okay, but she can’t find her voice to respond. Her breath feels caught in her throat - not dissimilar to how she was previously feeling, but for an entirely different reason.

This can’t be happening, she thinks, mind racing at what feels like a million miles a minute. It’s not possible. There’s no way.

“What’s not possible, Stevie?” he finally asks, voice desperate, neither of them acknowledging that he reads her mind before the question.

Slowly - and looking back, she’d genuinely say it feels like the tiny movement takes her a lifetime, as if the moment stretched itself to encompass its enormity - she lowers her arms from her chest, holding them out in the space between them. His hands wrap around her forearms, desperately trying to find the source of her injury, before he freezes; she feels his heart skip a beat through the tight grip he has on her.

Staring back up at him is his own name, written plainly across both her wrists, raw as a new tattoo.

He blinks. Blinks again. At first, he doesn’t manage to say anything, just rips the cuffs off his own arms, right there in the middle of the sidewalk - and sure enough. Her name is there in the same small writing as his own was, bright red, inflamed skin around it. As if in a trance, he brings his fingertips to the writing, mouth silently forming her name.

“It’s you,” he whispers reverently, looking up to once more meet her gaze. The look on his face is pure adoration and… relief? A shaky hand comes up to rest on her cheek, as if he can’t quite believe she’s really sitting there in front of him still.

Stevie swallows hard, leaning slightly into his touch. “I - I thought… I always assumed you already had a name,” she confesses. “You made it sound like you did. In interviews. At home even.”

“I wanted the questions to stop. To have more of a sense of privacy, to stop answering the same question over and over again,” he says, shaking his head. “I eventually realized that if I was vague enough, people would make their own assumptions and run with them.”

“Well, it worked,” she jokes weakly. “I had no idea.”

The light behind them turns green, and someone honks at another car in annoyance when they don’t start moving fast enough. As if whatever spell they were under breaks at the sound, Gray looks around and seems to finally realize they’re still just… sitting in the middle of the sidewalk in front of the deli. He stands, dusting off his jeans, and offers a hand out to her.

Stevie starts to bring her hand to his, but stops halfway, hand halting in mid-air. “Are you sure?” she asks, hating how small her voice sounds. He’d been casually touching her ever since the almost-accident, yes, but emotions had been running so high that neither of them had really noticed in the moment. Doing it on purpose would be - should be - different. “You’ve always kept your distance, for as long as we’ve known each other. It’ll be… loud.”

He nods - a subtle, gentle thing - but he brings his hand no closer, leaving the ultimate decision up to her. It’s her mental privacy that’s in question, after all.

Who knew your whole world could change in one afternoon, she thinks.

And then, she takes a deep breath and slides her hand into his: a leap of faith.

---

They arrive back at the house right as Nick is flinging the door open, shoving his arms into a jacket, keys dangling from where they’re stuck between his teeth.

“Excuse me, I have to - Button!” The keys clatter to the ground, and he barely manages to stop his down-stair momentum before slamming into her. As it is, Nick’s hands fly up to cup her face, wide worried eyes looking into hers.

It’s okay, Nick, I’m okay. She thinks rather than says the words out loud, not trusting her voice. Tears pool in her eyes, and she gives him a watery smile. I almost wasn’t, but I’m okay.

Nick looks her over, as if he needs to see for himself that she’s in one piece and whole to believe her, but freezes suddenly in his mother-henning when he spots it.

Stevie and Gray’s hands are clasped between them still, Gray standing a step down behind her, no wrist cuffs in sight.

And Nick? Nick just rolls his eyes, falling into an exhausted slump on the stairs.

“Well it’s about damn time!”

---

Later that afternoon, Stevie takes a picture of her hand intertwined with Gray’s, both of their marks fully on display, and sends it off in a text to Sally.

(4:43 pm): Thanks for the warning, but everything turned out better than expected.

(4:47 pm): (p.s. I’m sure it goes without saying, but please don’t tell anyone else yet!)

Two days later, when Sally apparently gets her phone back, Stevie receives six straight texts in a row full of exclamation marks, the messages only seeming to stop when her phone begins to ring.

---

End Author's Note: Fun fact! This was supposed to be around 1,500 words, and that's it. Turns out, Stevie's an anxious worrier like me and had a lot of emotions to work through in a short period of time. Anyway, speaking of being a worrier, part of this might seem vaguely familiar. I fully recognize that Gray's route in the Cupid Calamity side story involves a "moment" between Button and Gray in which one of them keeps the other from being hit by a moving vehicle. (If we're counting a Segway as a vehicle, that is.)

I in no way intended to copy anything from Jo's story or step on any toes or anything. I've had this story in the works for over a month now - in fact, it's just been sitting there untouched for the last week or so because I was considering scrapping the whole thing, because all I could think about was if using a similar plot device was too similar. I hope it isn't and that this was enjoyable all the same. My sincerest apologies if it comes across as anything other than me attempting to express my pure love and adoration for Jo's story and characters!

(Also, apologies for the sheer amount of italics in this fic, haha. Between texts and telepathic communication and emphasis, it feels ridiculous even to me.)

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 14: Nothing Personal

Summary: Steve confronts Fury about the Lemurian Star mission and the Director reveals just exactly what it is he’s been working on. However, when Fury is later gunned down in Steve’s apartment right in front of the Captain and Katie, the two are forced to run from the very people they’ve called colleagues and friends for years.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Language! Violence.

A/N: I love this edit from @angrybirdcr​

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 13

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

“You just can’t stop yourself from lying, can you?” Steve seethed as he crossed the floor of Fury’s office.

Nick didn’t even need to ask him what he was talking about. Without turning round the Director spoke calmly. “I didn’t lie. Agent Romanoff had a different mission than yours.”

“Which you didn’t feel obliged to share” Steve pressed, raising an eyebrow as the Director spun in his chair to face him.

“I’m not obliged to do anything” Fury replied simply, looking at him.

“Those hostages could’ve died, Nick.” Steve pressed, holding the man’s gaze.

“I sent the greatest soldier in history to make sure that didn’t happen.” Fury stated, and Steve could feel his temper rising even more. He hated the blasé attitude the Director was discussing the issue with, like it was simply something he wasn’t all that bothered about.

“Soldiers trust each other, that’s what makes it an army.” He said after a short pause. “Not a bunch of guys running around and shooting guns.”

He wasn’t expecting the response he got. Fury leaned forward, frowning as he levelled Steve with a look.

“The last time I trusted someone, I lost an eye.” Fury spoke, his tone steely. Steve cocked his head to one side, crossing his arms but maintaining his silence. “Look, I didn’t want you doing anything you weren’t comfortable with. Agent Romanoff is comfortable with everything.”

“I can’t lead a mission when the people I’m leading have missions of their own.” Steve pointed down at Fury’s desk, stressing his point.

“It’s called compartmentalization” Fury eyed him. “Nobody spills the secrets because nobody knows them all.” Steve snorted silently and gestured at Fury. “Except you.” Fury took a deep breath and levelled Steve with a look. “You’re wrong about me. I do share. I’m nice like that.” Steve frowned as Fury stood up and motioned for him to follow.

“Where are we going?” Steve’s frustration was evident on his tone.

“You’ll see.” Fury stepped inside the elevator. Steve followed. “Insight bay.”

A photo of Nick’s SHIELD ID flashed up on the screen, surrounded by a green light. Then Steve noticed his, but the light was red as the SHIELD computer spoke. “Captain Rogers does not have clearance for Project Insight.”

“Director override, Fury, Nicholas J.” Fury spoke, without missing a beat.

“Confirmed.”

The elevator started to moved downwards. Steve leaned against the rail which ran round the middle of the glass box and clasped his hands in front of him by his belt. Despite his initial annoyance, he had found himself beginning to understand what the Director was saying. SHIELD had so many secrets, many a matter of national security. It made no sense for everyone to know everything, it was a security risk, he got that. But it still irked him.

“You know, they used to play music.” Steve said, his tone softer as he broke the silence, making a joke at his own expense.

“Yeah. My grandfather operated one of these things for forty years.” Fury mused, somewhat nostalgic. “My granddad worked in a nice building, he got good tips. He’d walk home every night, roll of ones stuffed in his lunch bag. He’d say ‘hi’, people would say hi back. Time went on, neighbourhood got rougher. He’d say ‘hi’ they’d say, ‘Keep on steppin’. Granddad got to grippin’ that lunch bag a little tighter.”

The flash into Fury’s personal life surprised Steve somewhat. He cocked his head to one side and looked at the man. “Did he ever get mugged?”

“Every week some punk would say, “What’s in the bag?”

“What did he do?”

“He’d show ‘em. Bunch of crumpled ones and loaded point twenty-two Magnum.” Fury smirked “Granddad loved people. But he didn’t trust them very much.”

Steve had to smirk slightly, thinking that Fury sounded a hell of a lot like his grandpa. He looked down for a second, and when he looked up he was aware that they had now travelled down the side of the Triskellion and were descending further, underground even. As Steve looked around he realised he was in some sort of below building hangar, and he looked out of the glass, spotting three giant Helicarriers. His mouth fell open in surprise, his brow furrowing.

“Yeah, I know. They’re a little bit bigger than a point twenty-two.” Fury remarked.

Eventually the elevator stopped and Fury stepped out, Steve hot on his tail as he watched people bustling around the hangar shouting, carrying things, fixing things. The helicarriers were bigger than the one they’d used during the Chitauri invasion, each being able to house at least twenty Quinjets.

“This is Project Insight.” Fury explained as he led Steve across the floor of the hangar. “Three next generation Helicarriers synced to a network of targeting satellites.”

And then Steve understood. “Launched from the Lemurian Star.”

“Once we get them in the air they never need to come down. Continuous suborbital flight courtesy of our new repulsor engines.” Fury stopped underneath one.

“Stark?” Steve asked, frowning.

“Well, he had a few suggestions once he got an up close look at our old turbines.” Fury nodded, as they continued. “But don’t worry, that’s not something Nova is keeping from you.”

“I wasn’t” Steve said honestly, as he looked up and around the hangar. “I trust my girl.”

Fury looked at him before he turned his attention back to the matter in hand and pointed up again “These new long range precision guns can eliminate a thousand hostiles a minute. The satellites can read a terrorist’s DNA before he steps outside his spidy hole. We gonna neutralize a lot of threats before they even happen.”

Steve crossed his arms. “I thought the punishment usually came after the crime.”

“We can’t afford to wait that long.”

Steve could feel the nerve twitching in his jaw. “Who’s ‘we’?”

“After New York, I convinced the World Security Council we needed a quantum surge in threat analysis. For once we’re way ahead of the curve”

“By holding a gun at everyone on Earth and calling it protection?” Steve looked at the director, frowning. He didn’t like this. It smacked of something HYDRA would do.

Fury picked up on his tone and he looked at Steve, arching an eyebrow. “You know, I read those SSR files. Greatest generation? You guys did some nasty stuff.”

Don’t I know it? Steve thought to himself as he took a deep breath. “Yeah, we compromised. Sometimes in ways that made us not sleep so well. But we did it so the people could be free.” He turned and pointed at the helicarriers before looking at Fury “This isn’t freedom, this is fear.”

“SHIELD takes the world as it is, not as we’d like it to be.” Fury stated simply. “It’s getting damn near past time for you to get with that program, Cap”

Steve shook his head. “Don’t hold your breath.” And with that he left.

He changed quickly, eager to put as much distance between him and SHIELD as possible for the rest of the day. After a short conversation with Rumlow about a mission report, he was on his bike and heading for Katie’s apartment, his mind whirling. What was Fury playing at? This wasn’t what he signed up for, at all. It felt so far removed from what he had joined the army to do, to keep people safe, free. Had he really changed that much? He felt a sudden pang for his Howling Commandoes, for Bucky, for Peggy, for Colonel Philips, for all those damned missions which had been simple- destroy HYDRA before they destroyed you.

Despite the fact he had woken up that morning and felt so happy with his girl being there, he couldn’t help but wish life was as simple as it had been back then.

*****

Katie’s morning had been far more productive. She had looked at a couple of transcript extracts her editor had selected. She had to admit, the guy had a good eye for a future blockbuster, and this one she particularly liked. After discussions, they settled on an initial run of two hundred hard copy of the books to be sold online, along with a downloadable kindle version, and if they went they would review how many more we needed.

Pleased with her mornings work and having cleared her diary for the afternoon, she had lunch in the kitchen and had just finished when she heard the elevator door open. She headed into the main area of her apartment to greet Steve, taking a deep breath as she noticed how drained he looked.

“Dare I ask how it went?”

His response was a sigh as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in for a hug, simply wanting to feel her close.

“That good huh?” She squeezed him back gently before she pulled away and headed towards the kitchen, him following behind her.

“Debrief was fine. Fury, however, went on about compartmentalisation, the usual crap.” Steve sighed, running his hand over his face, smiling softly to himself when he saw she was gathering stuff out of the fridge to make him a sandwich “And then shared something I really wish he hadn’t.”

“Like what?” she asked, throwing some turkey and mayo onto a sub. “Ever heard of Operation Insight?” Steve looked at her, even though he knew the answer. There’s no way she would have and not told him.

“No?” She handed him the plate containing his sandwich.

“Well apparently your brother has. Thanks.” He took the plate from her sat at the breakfast bar taking a bite of his food. He swallowed and then continued “Three huge hellicarriers that are basically designed to go up in the air and never come down based on Tony’s arc reactor tech. Programmed to monitor potential threats and wipe them out before they get chance to do anything.” She frowned, settling on the stool next to him. “And Fury has sanctioned this?”

Steve nodded, taking another bite of his food. “I don’t like it. Like I said to him, punishment normally comes after the crime.”

Katie could see he was really struggling with this and that his faith in SHIELD was running very, very thin. A lot of what the Agency did was political, not just about keeping people safe. She’d tried to explain that the lines were a lot more blurred than back in the 40s, but still had to admit she was kind of with him. As she pondered for a moment, Steve could see the cogs whirring in her brain, the slight v shape crease that always formed in the middle of her eyes when she was thinking was present. Steve didn’t blame her, it had thrown him too and he’d had the full explanation. The hangar had been huge, and there were enough people in there to make him realise that a LOT of people knew about it. What he didn’t know was who on his immediate team knew about it.

“I just wanna know who I can trust” He sighed, looking at Katie as she reached out gently, touching his cheek.

“I know, Soldier.” she said, softly before she shook her head. “Okay, no more talk about SHIELD or hellicarriers, or whatever.” She moved to pick up her soda. “What do you want to for the rest of the afternoon?”

Steve wanted to go to the Smithsonian. He’d been thinking about it since they had emailed him to invite him to open the exhibit on him, which he had politely declined. But he was curious to see what it was like, curious and also eager, after today, to be reminded of a time when he worked with people he knew inside out, people that he would trust with his life. And he was keen to share that with his girl, the woman who had months ago before they even started dating, been the one to help him pick what the museum would display.

“You know, we’ve still not been to the Smithsonian since they opened the exhibit.” He shruged, hoping his tone was casual enough to make it sound like he hadn’t been thinking about it enough. He failed though, smiling as Katie looked at him, arching an eyebrow.

Busted.

“Call it curiosity.” He shrugged.

“You know what curiosity did don’t you?” Katie quipped back, her eyes flashing playfully.

“What?”

She grinned as she delivered the punchline “Killed the Cap.”

*****

“A symbol to the nation. A hero to the world. The story of Captain America is one of honour, bravery and sacrifice,” the narrator at the Smithsonian museum said as we entered the exhibit.

Steve paused to pull the collar of his blue jacket up a little further, a gesture that, along with the cap that was pulled down over his face, he hoped would prevent him from being recognised as they made their way to the start of the pieces.

"Denied enlistment due to poor health, Steven Rogers was chosen for a program unique in the annals of American warfare. One that would transform him into the world’s first super soldier,” the Narrator continued. Steve paused to look at the display to his right when Katie gently nudged him.

“Think you’ve been rumbled.”

Steve looked down at her, and then followed her gaze as she looked to her left at a small boy dressed in a light blue T-shirt adorned with the design of his shield who was watching the pair of them, his eyes growing wide. Steve smiled, put a finger against his mouth to indicate for him to keep quiet. The boy nodded and then turned, running back off to find his mum.

Without speaking Steve took her hand and led her over to the part of the exhibit that had an older looking motorcycle on a platform and some black and white footage playing beside it. The footage was of him in his older Captain America uniform, also currently on display, running through a battlefield.

“In this rare footage, everyone’s favourite war hero, Captain America…”

He didn’t stop to hear the rest, he could remember that mission by heart. It had been on the outskirts of Toulouse, liberating another HYDRA prison camp. Katie allowed herself to be led by him, this was his moment after all. They slowly walked to a display of mannequins dressed in his original suit, plus those of the Howling Commandos, which had been donated by their families. His eyes lingered on Bucky’s for a second and he took a deep breath.

“Battle tested, Captain America and his Howling Commandos quickly earned their stripes. Their mission, taking down HYDRA, the Nazi rogue science division,”

Katie looked at the uniforms, a smile on her face. She had only seen photos of Steve’s war suit, never seen it in person and it intrigued her. More so because this was something that her dad had made, something physical he had touched. She felt a tug on her hand again, and she looked up to see that she was being led to a section dedicated to Bucky. The familiar (albeit again, only from photos), handsome face of his best friend looked back at them as they wandered over to read what it said in more detail.

“Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers were inseparable on both school yard and battlefield. Barnes is the only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country…”

The narration didn’t cover half the text on the black, glass screen and in Katie’s opinion it wasn’t a particularly good tribute to a man who had lost his life in such tragic circumstances. She read the rest of the text as Steve’s eyes skated over it, reading, despite the fact he knew it all. He wished he could have saved him, he really did. He’d loved him to have been able to meet Katie. But then, he wouldn’t have anyway. As he would have most likely been dead now. Or what’s to say things may or may not have ended up differently. Would Buck have been on the Valkyrie with him?

He watched the black and white footage playing, where the two of them were talking and then laughing about something and he felt the sadness hit his chest again. And as if she sensed it too, Katie gripped his hand a little bit tighter and lay her head against his arm, her weight giving him something to anchor himself too, and he was grateful for it.

They carried on walking and then they found there was a small cinema area a bit further round the corner playing footage and interviews. Steve paused for a second and then looked at Katie, the question stayed silent. She nodded and together they walked in, taking a seat on one of the benches. There was a bit of introduction footage, and then a familiar face appeared on the screen.

Besides him Katie took a deep breath and whispered a single word “Dad…” and he automatically dropped a hand to her knee, where she placed hers on top of his as the two of them watched her father an animatedly talking to the camera.

“Rogers was different” Howard spoke, smiling, the caption on the screen telling him the footage had been filmed in 1953. “He was constantly striving to do the right thing, with no fear or care for how it would affect him. He, err, when we dropped him behind enemy lines we had no idea if we would see him again. I narrowly escaped myself, the machine guns nearly took our aircraft down but without thought to how he would get back, he told us to leave him behind. When they declared him missing in action the entire company was devastated but, lo and behold… well they can’t keep a good man down.”  Howard paused and then looked down and back up at the camera “I can only hope that if I’m graced with Children, they grow up to be half as driven as he was to do the right thing…”

As Katie looked down at her feet, a stray tear fell down her cheek. Seeing her dad there like that was raw. She knew that Tony felt the loss of their parents far more than she did, she had only been seven after all when they had died and Tony had been her father, if you will, for far longer than her actual dad had. But still, seeing him in front of her so candidly, talking about his hopes for his future children, made something in her chest tighten and she couldn’t help but feel sadness at the fact she never got the chance to really know him. Steve gently squeezed her knee, but then as they looked back up at the screen it was his turn to still as someone he recognised extremely well, her face painted into his memory for life, entered the screen and began speaking, also in 1953. 

"That was a difficult winter. A blizzard had trapped half our battalion behind the German line. Steve, Captain Rogers, he fought his way through a HYDRA blockade that had pinned our allies down for months.” Peggy Carter stumbled slightly through the interview. “He saved over a thousand men, including the man who would become my husband as it turned out. Even after he died, Steve was still changing my life,” And despite the fact that she smiles slightly at the end of this line, it’s clear to see that talking about Steve affected her a lot.

Katie leaned against him and with a breath he lay his head on top of hers. “We haven’t seen her for a while…” she whispered as the video finished. “Shall we go on the way home?” He gave a soft chuckle and dropped a kiss to the crown of her head.

“You read my mind.”

*******

Peggy was pleased to see them, as always when she was having a good day. They both greeted her and after a few pleasantries they told her about their trip to the Smithsonian. Peggy smiled, informing them that she remembered the interview, like it was yesterday, apparently the man interviewing her had been an “utter rogue”, but she didn’t elaborate on what that meant further than saying he was worse than Barnes, which made Steve laugh.  They chatted a little about her time as Director at SHIELD before she trailed off with a sigh as she noticed that Steve was uncharacteristically quiet. After a little gentle coaxing from her and Katie he told her what was on his mind.

“My whole life I’ve just wanted to do what was right, I guess I’m not sure what that is anymore.” He paused for a moment, thinking of how to voice his worries about SHIELD “And I thought I could just throw myself back in and follow orders, it’s just not the same.”

Peggy chuckled as she rolled her eyes and looked at Katie. “He’s always so dramatic.”

Katie let out a small laugh, nodding her agreement. “Tell me about it!”

Steve shook his head, a smile on his face as he raised his eyebrows slightly and looked away as Peggy continued to speak.

“Look you saved the world, we rather mucked it up.”

“No you didn’t. You know, knowing that you helped found SHIELD is half the reason I stay.”

“And the other half being?” Her eyes strayed to Katie who smiled, looking down and then up at Steve as he caught her eye, his hand resting on her knee.

“I quit remember?” Katie reminded her.

Peggy smiled “Indeed, a woman with principles. That I can get on board with. ”Katie gave a little smile as Peggy continued. “Look, the world has changed and none of us can go back.” She spoke softly. “All we can do is our best, and sometimes the best that we can do is to start over.“

At that she started to cough. Steve quickly picked up a glass of water from the table and rounded the back of the chair Katie was sitting in to try and hand her the glass. 

"Peg?” He held the glass out as her coughing subsided and she took a sip. Once she had finished she looked up and stared at Steve as if she was seeing a ghost

“Steve?” Peggy breathed out in an amazed yet broken voice.

“Yeah,” Steve whispered, his heart sinking as he recognised the look in her face. Her memory had gone, again.

“You’re alive! You, you came, you came back,” Peggy whimpered. Tears were gathering in her eyes at this point as she tried to hold them back and Steve was struggling to do the same with his own. One of the smartest, nicest, bravest women he had ever met was being betrayed by an illness that was literally rotting her brain. It was cruel, and every time she did this, they went through the same routine.

“Yeah, Peggy.” Steve responded forcing a smile onto his face as Katie squeezed his hand gently, standing up so he could take the chair next to Peggy.

“It’s been so long. So long,” Peggy started to cry, giving up on holding back her tears.

“I’ll leave you with her.” Katie spoke softly as she gently touched Steve’s shoulder. His hand briefly reached up to lay over hers before he leaned over to take Peggy’s.

“Well, I couldn’t leave you.” He forced himself to smile. “Not when you still owe me a dance.”

Normally that calmed the old lady down, but not today. She was becoming more and more confused and in the end he had to press the call button.

“Again?” The nurse who attended asked softly, and Steve simply nodded.

“I’ll fetch the doctor.”

Outside Katie took a deep breath and headed towards her car. Ex partners could always be an issue in relationships but this was something else, something completely different. She opened the passenger side to the car and sat side on in the seat, door open, legs dangling out. She felt sorry for Peggy, she really did, and her heart ached for Steve. It can’t be easy seeing the woman he once loved, and probably still did in some way, fading like that in front of your eyes.

She ran her hand over her face, rubbing at her eyes slightly and waited as she watched various people coming and going out of the main doors of the hospital. It wasn’t that long before a familiar figure appeared, a flash of white T-shirt standing out against his dark navy jacket and equally dark jeans as he walked towards her, hands in his pockets. She stood up, not saying a word as she wrapped her arms around him and he buried his face into the nook of her shoulder and neck, his safe place, his hands gently resting on her hips as he breathed out a sigh.

“Is she okay?” she asked gently. “Yeah they sedated her.” He said as he pulled away.

“I’m so sorry Steve.”

“What for?” “Peggy…it’s so unfair.” “Yeah…” He replied simply. And it was. He wished things could be different, that Peggy wasn’t ill. That she could be home, with her family, living out the last years of her life with the dignity she had lived the rest of it. She deserved more. He looked over the car roof across the street and watched for a second, everyone milling about their business, getting on with their lives. Like he was, and whilst he wished things had been different for Peggy, he suddenly found himself thinking and wondering if he would change anything if he could.

He felt Katie still in front of him, reacting to the fact he himself had changed posture, and as he looked down at her he was suddenly struck with the answer to his question. Despite everything, despite his sudden feelings of nostalgia sparked by the events of the last twenty hours or so, no he wouldn’t. Because whatever had happened, every action, every decision, it had led him to the girl now in his arms, and he loved her so fucking much it hurt. Yeah he had loved Peggy, he still did in some ways, but it was nothing compared to this. Nothing.

He reached out and took Katie’s hands, pulling up her arms so they were round his neck, pulling her closer to him as his own hands joined at the bottom of her back

“I love you.” He said gently, needing her to understand, to believe him. “My best girl.”

“I hope I’m your only girl, Rogers.”  She sassed back with a sniff, and he smiled softly, happy that she understood.

“How about we head back to mine and not leave the flat for the entire day tomorrow?” Steve looked down at her, the idea suddenly coming to him and her face lit up. Katie loved lazy days. It was rare Steve was in the mood for them, his incessant energy normally meant he had to be doing something. But on the odd time he agreed, it usually involved them staying in bed till about midday, then watching old movies on the TV under a blanket on the couch, maybe a bit of fooling around and then calling a take out before retreating back to bed. Right now that sounded like a damned fine idea. “Can you clear your diary?”

“Consider it cleared.”

“I just wanna make one quick stop on the way home” He suggested, his journey of contemplation was leading him to one more place. He glanced at his watch before planting a kiss on her lips as she looked at him questioningly. “Thought we could pay our jogging friend a visit.”

********

“Look who it is. The running man and his pretty girl.” Sam joked slightly as he came over to the doorway where Katie and Steve were stood.

“Hey.” Katie smiled as he dropped a kiss onto her cheek.

“Caught the last few minutes. It’s pretty intense,” Steve commented as Sam shook his hand.

“Yeah, brother, we all got the same problems. Guilt, regret,” Sam shrugged.  As his sentence went on his voice got more serious and softer.

“Have you lost someone?” Steve asked, perceptive as ever. Katie mentally cursed herself for not filling him in fully, but Sam didn’t seem too bothered to talk about it. He nodded gently.

“My wingman, Riley. Fly in the night mission. A standard PJ rescue op, nothing we hadn’t done a thousand times before, till an RPG knock Riley’s dumb ass out of the sky. Nothing I could do. It’s like I was up there just to watch,” Sam paused to cross his arms over his chest, his posture slightly tense. “After that, I had really hard time finding a reason for being over there, you know?”

“But you’re happy now, back in the world?” Steve asked

“Hey, the number of people giving me orders is down to about zero. So, hell, yeah,” Sam joked, loosening up slightly, before getting a bit serious, “You thinking about getting out?”

“No.” Steve replied quickly before he took a breath. “I don’t know. To be honest, I don’t know what I would do with myself if I did.”

“Ultimate fighting?” Sam shrugged and Steve laughed as Katie snorted.  “It’s just a great idea off the top of my head. But seriously, you could do whatever you want to do. What makes you happy?”

Steve turned his head to look at Katie, an unconscious movement, smiling gently as he shrugged. “I dunno…”

“Oh I think you do.” Sam said, smirking slightly as Steve placed his hand on the small of his girl’s back.

“Oh, stop by the front desk on your way out,” Katie turned to Sam, smirking, and he raised an eyebrow in question,

“We asked for you by name.” Steve clarified.

“She seemed thoroughly impressed.” Katie finished. Both of Sam’s eyebrows rose at that and he looked down the hallway towards where the front desk was.

“You two are the best.” A smile stretching across his face as he began to turn to head down the hall. “Stop by anytime.”

“No problem.” Steve grinned in amusement as Sam jogged his way down the hall.

It was gone eight by the time they got home, having made a pit stop for a beer on the way. Steve held the door open for Katie, and she stepped into the apartment building and started to climb the stairs in front of him, giving him a quite pleasing view of her ass as her hips swayed side to side in front of him.

“Sam’s right you know.” She continued their discussion from the bar. “And so is Peggy.”

“What about?”

“If you wanted to get out you could do, start over.”

He took a deep breath. “I don’t know what I want, but spending the rest of my life playing janitor for Fury is not it.”

“I can write you a resignation note.” She grinned and Steve chuckled slightly and then took a deep breath.

“You know, it’s funny when I think about it. Us, stuff, what we’ve done and how far we’ve come in a year.”

“You’re saying it like it’s a bad thing.” She teased as she stepped onto his landing.

“No, that’s not what I mean at all.”  He took a deep breath as she headed towards his door and turned to face him “You know, I’ve never really talked to anyone or shown them about my past in detail or introduced anyone to Peggy bar you.”

“Well I am your girlfriend.” She shrugged, holding onto the hand that wasn’t digging into his jeans pocket to fish out his keys.  “Your best girl.” At that he smiled. “So you should be able to talk to me about anything.”

“I know, I’m not explaining myself very well.”  He remarked, finally succeeding in obtaining his keys. And he wasn’t. He was trying to tell her that he couldn’t imagine his life without her, that he wanted her to share his everything, including his home.

“Spit it out Rogers.” She teased as he slid the key into the lock.

He took a deep breath. “Coming home last night and you being there…and then this morning…it was perfect, Doll, and I want that all the time.” He turned to face her leaving his key hanging from the door. “How would you feel about us maybe moving in together?”

She paused for a moment, looking at him, realising he was deadly serious. She raised her eyebrow.

“I thought you came from a time where man and woman didn’t live together until they were married?”

“We could get married if you want.” He blurted out. That made Katie raise both eyebrows as she studied him again, her mouth dropping into a small ‘o’. Steve looked back at her, trying to keep his face passive, as if it had been a joke, even though he knew it wasn’t. He’d known for months she was the one.

But to blurt it out like that? Outside his apartment door, in such a dumbass way?

Way to go, Rogers.

Katie cocked her head to one side, there was a funny look on Steve’s face that she couldn’t place. But whatever it was, even if Steve was serious about them getting married, she knew him well enough to understand that was not how he would want to propose, and that he was probably kicking himself about stumbling it out the way he had done. So she broke the nervous tension, as she always did, with a slight joke.

“You know, that’s not much of a proposal.” She slid her arms up around his neck. “But its one step up from you’d make a great housewife, I suppose.”

“Should I try again?” A cheeky grin spread across his face, glad the tone was playful, his arms circling her waist “Yeah, with a big, fuck off Tiffany diamond.”

“I didn’t think you were so materialistic?”

“Well, you know what they say? Diamonds are a girls’ best friend.”

“And there I was, thinking it was me.” He muttered, his lips pressing onto hers.

“That’s so sweet!” A voice interrupted and they both turned to look at Kate, his neighbour from over the hall. For a split second Steve thought she was talking to them but it soon became apparent she was on the phone. “That’s so nice…but hey, I gotta go…okay bye…”

She dropped the phone into the basket of laundry she was carrying before grinning at us both “My aunt, she’s kind of an insomniac”

Steve smile before looking at the basket of washing in her arms as he dropped his arm round Katie’s shoulder “you know if you want…if you want, you can use my machine. Might be easier and cheaper than the one in the basement.” “Thank you, but I already have a load in downstairs actually, and you really don’t want my scrubs in your machine.” She grinned. “I just finished a rotation on the infectious diseases ward, so,”

“Ah, well, we’ll keep our distance,” Steve grinned, holding his hands up, palms out.

“Hopefully not too far.” She chuckled. “Don’t want to lose my best neighbour. Okay, well I better be off.” She turned to go before she stopped and spun back round to look at Steve. “Oh, by the way, I think you left your stereo on.”

“Right, thank you.” Steve watched her go, frowning. He looked at Katie as they both pressed their ears to the door. The record player was certainly on but…

“We definitely didn’t leave that on before.”  Katie looked at him, as the gentle tones of Kitty Kallen Long Long Time hit their ears.

Steve held his finger up to his lips and gestured to the window, before leaving Katie where he was. He ran off, down the stairs as fast as he could and then he scaled the gate on the fire escape easily. Once he reached the steps which were parallel to his window he took a running jump, easily pulling himself up over the sill and into the kitchen area. Quickly and quietly he moved along the wall, picking up his shield which was leaning against the shelving unit. Holding it up, he cautiously peered round the corner of the room into the living area and instantly relaxed when he saw Fury lounging in a chair.

“I don’t remember giving you a key.” He said, somewhat sardonically.

“What, you really think I’d need one?” Nick replied. Steve shook his head and headed to the front door of the flat, pulling it open.

“Fury.” He said with a roll of his eyes, turning and walking back into the apartment.

“Huh?” Katie asked as she followed him into the living room, where the music was coming from, to see Fury sitting on the couch in the dark.

“What are you doing here?” She demanded.

"Nice to see you too, Nova. And in answer to your question my wife kicked me out.”

“I didn’t know you were married,” She continued, frowning. And she didn’t. And she wasn’t sure that he was.

“There are a lot of things you don’t about me,” Fury replied casually.

“I know, Nick. That’s the problem,” Steve grumbled walking forward as Katie remained where she was, eyes narrowed at her old boss. Steve flipped on the light switch, instantly recoiling in surprise when he noticed Fury’s injuries. Besides him Katie gasped slightly and moved to get closer to help but Fury indicated for her to stop and the both of them to stay quiet. He turned off the light again and typed something on his phone.

'EARS EVERYWHERE’.

Bugs? His apartment was bugged? By who? They both exchanged a glance and instantly Katie looked up and around the room, as if she expected to see a microphone glaring at them.

“I’m sorry to have to do this but I had nowhere else to crash,” Fury looked around a bit before he typed something else up on his phone:

'SHIELD COMPROMISED’.

Steve and Katie shared another glance, the pair of them wide eyed. This was bad.

“Who else knows about your wife?” Steve asked, keeping his voice even.

Fury showed them another text;

'YOU TWO AND ME’.

“Just my friends,” Fury grunted in pain while getting up and walking closer to them.

“Is that what we are?” Katie blinked at him. She still hadn’t completely forgiven the man for lying to them all about Coulson. 

“That’s up to you.” Fury replied, his eyes darting from Katie to Steve.

Then out of nowhere came a rapid succession of gunshots. Steve quickly pushed Katie out of the way, the pair of them taking cover behind the kitchen wall as Fury groaned before he collapsed down to the floor. Steve scooted forward, keeping as low as he could, pulling him into the kitchen. Katie knelt next to him and tried to check his injuries through his black clothing when he reached up and handed something to Steve.

“Don’t, trust anyone,” he coughed before passing out.  Katie and Steve both looked at what he had been handed and saw that it was a flash drive. Steve curled his hand around it and looked at Katie, but before either of them could say anything else there was the sound of someone breaking into the apartment. Steve quickly moved into a defensive position, in front of Katie and Fury, raising his shield.

“Captain Rogers?” a familiar voice suddenly called out and they watched as Kate, his neighbour, cautiously walked in with a gun pointed. “I’m Agent Thirteen of SHIELD’s Special Service.”

“Kate?” Steve frowned, shaking his head. He’d just about had his fill of surprises.

“I’m assigned to protect you.” She continued

“On whose orders?” Katie snapped.

Kate stopped as she spotted Fury lying on the floor. “His,” she dropped besides Katie, checking Fury for a pulse and then spoke into her radio

“Foxtrot is down, he’s unresponsive. I need EMTs.”

“Do you have a twenty on the shooter?” A SHIELD agent questioned through the radio.

Then there was a movement on the other side of the window, on the roof adjacent to the building.  Steve instantly glanced up and saw a flash of silver and the shadow of a figure running across the rooftop.

“Tell them I’m in pursuit.” He said and with that he took a running jump and smashed straight through his window, and through into the office building opposite. Steve ran, keeping his eye on the man, smashing through walls, windows, anything in his way. Eventually he caught up with him on the roof and flung his shield at the assassin who, to Steve’s shock, caught it with one swift move in the hand of his metal arm. There was a pause as Steve could do nothing but eye the man with surprise before the shield came flying back. Steve caught it, with both hands on its rim but the force pushed him back a few yards along the gravel surface of the roof. By the time he had stopped the momentum moving him, the assassin had jumped. Steve ran to the edge of the building and looked down.

He was gone.

*****

“What happened?” Hill asked as they all looked through the glass window at the hustle and bustle of the operating room. Steve moved his arm from around Katie and took her hand in his, squeezing her fingers gently.

"He was at my apartment when we got home.” Steve started. “I hadn’t even had chance to ask why when there were two blasts, then another. Someone shot him through the window- three times. I tried to go after the shooter, but I lost him on the roof of the building across the street.”

Steve had no doubt in his mind that if there was anyone else in SHIELD they could trust right now it was Hill, but both he and Katie kept quiet. He had taken Fury’s warning of trusting nobody seriously and had told Katie as much as they had strode through the ED of the hospital. Both were aware that Hill was studying them, side on, her face stony.

“What aren’t you telling me?” She asked quietly.

“Nothing.” Katie answered for them.

Before Hill could drill either of them anymore, the door to the observation room flung open and heavy footsteps crossed the room, stopping at the other side of Katie.

“Is he gonna make it?” Natasha asked, almost inaudibly, staring through the window.

“We don’t know,” Hill mumbled.

“Tell me about the shooter,” Natasha whispered

“He’s fast and strong. And he had a metal arm,” Steve said, letting go of Katie’s hand to fold his arms across his chest and as he did, they both caught the look of recognition and slight fear on Natasha’s face reflected in the window.

“Ballistics?” She swallowed heavily.

“Three slugs. No rifling and completely untraceable,” Maria answered softly.

“Soviet made?”

“Yeah,” Maria looked at Natasha in shock. Steve turned to face her, as did Katie, but she didn’t look back. She stared straight through to the operating theatre but before Katie could ask what it was that she wasn’t saying, the operation room went into overdrive. Machines started beeping erratically, the doctors and nurses were rushing around the room and the panic was palpable even behind the glass. But they couldn’t save him.

“Time of death, 1:03 A.M.”

A few moments passed as the four of them stood completely in shock. Katie reached up to wipe a tear that had trickled down her cheek away, before Natasha turned and almost sprinted out of the room.

Steve pulled his hand out of his pocket, turning the flash drive that Nick had given him over in his hand. Nick had been killed because he knew whatever it was that was on that drive. What could possibly be so bad, so secret, so dangerous that the Director of SHIELD was deemed a threat for knowing? He glanced up at Katie who was watching him, tears in her eyes. She might have had her issues with Fury, but he was a good man and would never have wished him dead. With a sigh Steve placed the item back into his pocket and pulled her in for a hug.

******

A little later, they were all in the same room as Nick’s body. Natasha was by him, hardly having moved a muscle, almost like she was in shock. And it unnerved Katie. Nat wasn’t one to really show emotion but then again, Fury had meant a lot to her. The door opened and a doctor entered, speaking to Hill. She nodded and then walked over to Katie and Steve, coughing to clear her throat.

“They need to take him.” She said, her voice cracking slightly. Steve nodded and stepped forwards.

“Nat. Natasha…” But at that she turned away from them all and made her way quickly into the corridor of the Hospital. Katie and Steve looked at one another, before they hastily followed her.

“Why was Fury in your apartment?” Natasha span around to ask Steve. Her eyes were filled with sadness, but Katie could also see suspicion etched on her pretty features.

“I don’t know,” Steve sighed shrugging his shoulders, and before the conversation could go on further they were interrupted by Rumlow.

“Cap, they want you back at Shield,” He informed them, gently touching Katie’s shoulder. “You too Nova.”

“Alright, give us a second,” Steve nodded dismissing Rumlow, perhaps a little more harshly than he intended, as he turned back to Natasha but Rumlow was insistent

“They want you now,”

“Alright” Katie spoke firmly but calmly. Rumlow nodded and then moved back down the hallway.

“You’re a terrible liar.” Natasha shook her head at Steve with her trademark smirk that didn’t reach her eyes before she turned and left.

“What the hell is on that drive?” Katie asked Steve after a moment of silence.

“I don’t know, but it’s what Natasha was saving data to on our mission the other day.” He replied before he looked up staring very focused into a vending machine to his right, which was open as a janitor filled it up. He didn’t want to take the drive back to the Triskellion, just in case. He knew that something wasn’t quite right.

Katie caught his eye before glancing around the hallway that was mostly full of SHIELD agents, luckily they were all congregated on the other end.

“Do it.” She nodded, figuring out his intention to hide the item “I’ll distract them.”

Without another look back at him, she began to stride forwards towards Rumlow.

“Its almost four am.” she glanced at her watch. “What do they want us for Brock? We already told Sitwell what we know and I don’t work for SHIELD anymore, remember?”

Rumlow shrugged “Honestly, I don’t know Nova. I’m just under instructions to get you both back to base.”

At that point Steve reached them, but he wasn’t stopping. Taking Katie’s hand he nodded to the STRIKE leader

“Let’s go.”

“Yeah,” Rumlow fell into step with them, fixing his earpiece. “Strike! Move it out.”

Steve drove to the Triskellion, Katie’s car flanked by the Armoured SUVs as they sped through the streets of DC. Katie dozed off for ten minutes and Steve let her sleep, lost in his own thoughts. He had expected her to be called in alongside him, especially after she had been, along with him, the last people Fury had spoken to him before he died. But he wasn’t happy about it, he wanted her as far away from whatever the hell was going on as possible. Once they arrived he gently shook her awake and the two of them were given an hour or so to grab something to eat. Neither were hungry, but they forced down their sandwiches, Katie’s brain working in overdrive as she did so. Something was nagging at her, and she was trying to make the connections, figure it out, but her head simply kept replaying Fury getting shot over and over.

“Foxtrot is down, he’s unresponsive. I need EMTs.”

“Do you have a twenty on the shooter?”

She frowned.

“What is?” Steve asked, coffee in his hand as he sat back on one of the large chairs in one of the common rooms by the kitchen area.

“Before…when Kate…Agent thirteen, whatever the hell her name is called back to base…she said Fury was down and needed EMTs…”

She paused and Steve waited, knowing how her analytical brain worked. She had to follow threads, talk them over or write them out, letting them weave together as she did. A look of comprehension crossed her face as the threads connected.

“Sitwell…” She whispered.

“What about him?” Steve asked. “He was the one that replied, at least it sounded like him.” She bit her lip, but not in the seductive way that made his crotch twitch, the way she did when she was thinking “And he asked…do you have a twenty on the shooter.”

Steve frowned, not quite sure where this was going. “Okay…”  “Well, how did he know Fury had been shot? How could anyone know he had been shot?”

Now he understood. He understood completely. Damned it she was clever. “They couldn’t.” He sat up and leaned towards her, his voice dropping. “Not unless they were there or Kate…whoever, told them.”

“And she didn’t. She just said he was down and unresponsive.” “Which means…” Steve began, but Katie finished for him. “Sitwell knew about the hit. Because he was in on it.”

The both looked at one another, their faces wearing similar looks of shock. Fury was right, SHIELD was compromised. But how far, they had no idea.

Before Steve had chance to say anything else, the door opened and Rumlow stepped in

“Secretary Pierce is ready now guys.” “Thanks.” Katie nodded, shooting Steve another glance as they both stood up.

“Not a word.” He mumbled as they got into the elevator “We say nothing, not until we figure out who we can trust.”

“If we can trust anyone.” She mumbled back.

*****

“Captain, why was Nick in your apartment last night?” Secretary Pierce looked at Steve as he sat on the couch next to Katie in the large office.

“I don’t know.” He answered in a soft voice.

“Did you know it was bugged?” Pierce pressed on.

“We did.” Katie nodded meeting the secretary’s eye. “Because Nick told us.”

“Did he tell you he was the one who bugged it?”

Steve took a breath and glanced at Katie, his expression stony but the two of them shared the understanding.

No, no he had not.

“I want you to see something.” Pierce continued, and gestured to a monitor just behind the couches we were sitting on. On the screen was a man tied down to a chair, he looked to be currently being interrogated. Katie didn’t recognise the man, but Steve did.  It was Batroc, the lead merc from the hijacking of the Lemurian Star.

“Is that live?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, they picked him up last night in a not so safe house in Algiers.”

“Are you saying he’s a suspect?” Steve didn’t take his eyes off the screen “Assassination isn’t Batroc’s line.”

“It’s more complicated than that. Batroc was hired anonymously to hijack the Lemurian Star. He was contacted by email and paid by wire transfer, and then the money was run through seventeen fictitious accounts. The last going to a holding company that was registered to a Jacob Veech.” Pierce said handing Steve a folder.

“Am I supposed to know who that is?” Steve skimmed through the file offered to him in curiosity and confusion.

“Not likely. Veech died six years ago. His last address was 1435 Elmhurst Drive. When I first met Nick, his mother lived at 1437.”

“Wait,” Katie frowned as she gathered what Pierce was suggesting. “Are you saying Fury hired the pirates? Why?”

“The prevailing theory?” Pierce shrugged. “The hijacking was a cover for the acquisition and sale of classified intelligence. The sale went sour and that led to Nick’s death.”

“If you really knew Nick Fury you’d know that’s not true.” Steve replied strongly, and he believed it. Fury was a lot of things, but a traitor he was not.

Pierce nodded in agreement. “Why do you think we’re here talking?” He then got to his feet and began to walk towards the window. “See, I took a seat on the council not because I wanted to, but because Nick asked me to because we were both realists. We knew that despite all the diplomacy, and the hand shaking and the rhetoric, to build a really better world sometimes means having to tear the old one down. And that makes enemies.”

Steve didn’t like the way this was going. He looked at Katie and gestured for her to stand as he did. Pierce turned back around and looked at them both.

“Those people that call you dirty because you’ve got the guts to stick your hands in the mud and try to build something better. And the idea that those people could be happy today,” Pierce shoved his hands in his pockets. “Makes me really, really angry. Captain, you and Miss Stark were the last ones to see Nick Fury alive. I don’t think that’s an accident.” Pierce said matter-of-factly. “And I don’t think you do, either. So, I’m going to ask again was he there?”

“He told us not to trust anyone.” Steve said honestly.

Pierce made a humming sound. “I wonder, if that included him.”

There was a tense moment of silence before Steve spoke again. “I’m sorry. Those were his last words. Excuse us,” He turned to leave, picking up his shield that he sent down upon our arrival and attaching it to the harness on his back, before ushering Katie out of the room slightly ahead of him.

“Captain,” Pierce’s voice halted him mid step and he turned to look at him. “Someone murdered my friend. I’m going to find out why. Anyone who gets in my way is going to regret it.” Pierce’s voice rang out again, a pointed look in their direction.

Steve wasn’t a stupid man, and he knew that was a veiled threat. He took a deep breath, considering his response, before he decided appearing un-rattled was the best option.

“Understood.” He nodded, holding the door open for Katie to step through keeping himself between her and Pierce as he followed, anchoring his hand on her back to keep her moving.

“You should have lied.” She whispered.

“Huh?” “Back then, said we didn’t know why Fury was there. By telling him that he told us not to trust anyone he knows we know and that we’re hiding something.” Her tone was a little panicked and Steve simply took a deep breath.

“We need to get to the hospital and get that stick.” He looked at her, remaining  adamant that whatever it was that was on there would hold the answers. He looked up and down the corridor before they stepped into the elevator.

“Operations Control” Steve spoke as the elevator scanned his face and Katie’s Guest ID.

“Confirmed”

Just as the doors were about to close, Rumlow stepped in with two other STRIKE agents.

“Keep all STRIKE personnel on site” He was saying.  Both the agents nodded and voiced their acknowledgement of his order. “Forensics.” 

“Confirmed.”

“Cap, Nova…” Rumlow nodded to them both.

“Rumlow.” Steve acknowledged him as the doors closed and they started to descend.

“Evidence Response found some fibres on the roof they want us to see.” Rumlow turned his head to look at Steve. “You want me to get the tac-team ready?”

“No, let’s wait and see what it is first.”

“Right.” Rumlow turned back and Steve looked out of the side of the elevator, pondering what his next move was. Chase down the man responsible? The drive? The elevator stopped at the next floor and Rollins plus a few more SHIELD and Strike agents entered, Steve moving over slightly to allow them in.

“What’s the status so far?” Rollins was saying.

“Administrations level” another one asked, before they continued whatever it was they were talking about, moving round to find a space behind Steve and Katie.

He noticed Katie look round, a frown on her face, but before he could say anything Rumlow spoke, looking over his shoulder at Steve.

“I’m sorry about what happened with Fury. Messed up, what happened to him”

“Thank you.” Steve nodded.

Katie could sense something was off. Years of training as an Agent didn’t just leave you when you quit, and those years of training had taught her very well to read body language. Rumlow was alert, too alert, and it was more than just a nervousness because Fury had been killed. There was an atmosphere in the lift, and she glanced at one of the agents that had joined them at the last floor. He was still talking, normally, but he there was a bead of sweat dripping down his cheek from his temple.

Steve could sense it too. He watched as Rumlow and Rollins exchanged a glance and looked down at Katie who was watching him, nervous expression on her face. He shook his head gently, instructing her to keep calm.

The elevator stopped and another agent entered.

“Records”

This one stood in front of them, facing the elevator doors and it was then with a slight air of exasperation at allowing it to happen, Steve realised they were surrounded. Whilst he wasn’t too concerned, he knew he could more than likely fight his way out, it was his girl he was bothered for. It had been months since she had been in active combat, and this was going to be brutal. Besides him Katie stiffened, feeling very underprepared for what was about to go down. She had no weapons, nothing. Instinctively Steve gripped her hand and pulled her forward so she was stood next to him instead of behind and moved his feet apart slightly, hands on the buckle of his belt, adopting his Captain stance, preparing for what was coming.

“Before we get started,” he sighed, looking down before he stared straight ahead, “does anyone want to get out?”

His eyes flicked to the back of Rumlow’s head. There was a moment’s pause before all hell broke loose. They both put up a good fight, ducking, diving, punching. Steve was then shocked with a baton, but he simply grit his teeth, absorbing the electricity into his body. It hurt, but it wasn’t unbearable. And then, three of them managed to snap one of his arms to the wall of the elevator using some kind of metallic clamp, before five of them piled on him at once, attempting to pin his other arm in too. He kicked out, taking down as many as he could.

Just as Katie had floored the second of the agents who had launched at her, she was grabbed from behind by her hair and hauled to the edge of the elevator, being wrestled roughly to the floor by Rumlow who was instantly on top of her, trying to get her wrists from where she had positioned them underneath her body in an attempt to stop them restraining her.

"Brock…” She spoke gently, looking at him as she swallowed. “What’s going on?” “I’m sorry Stark.” He shook his head. “Just following orders.”

“Yeah well follow this.”  She snarled, the anger brewing in her as she jerked her head forwards as hard as she could, feeling it connect with his nose.  He yelled, and then her head snapped painfully to the right as he back handed her straight across the face. She felt her lip split and the warm, metallic taste of blood hit her taste buds, stars flashing in front of her eyes as her ears began to ring from the harsh knock.

Steve saw Rumlow land the blow to Katie’s face and let out a growl of anger and aimed another kick at the final agent standing, causing them man to collide with the side of the elevator before slumping down. He turned, pulled on his arm as hard as he could, wrenching the cuff off the side of the elevator and looked up in time to see Katie, who was now pinned against the wall by another set of those damned cuffs, take a blow to the ribs from Rumlow causing her to cry out in pain.

“Rumlow!” Steve yelled causing the man to whip his head round, surprise on his face. Katie, using her arms as leverage, swung her legs upwards, kicking Rumlow with both feet. The STRIKE leader stumbled slightly as Steve snarled at him, his entire body and face alight with rage “Touch my girl again and I’ll fucking kill you.”

Rumlow got to his feet, holding one of his arms out, electric rod in his hand “Whoa, big guy. I just want you both to know, this ain’t personal.”

He then lunged at Steve with his electric rod but one on one Steve was easily able to defend himself, he moved to the right, dodged and grabbed Rumlow, throwing him harshly upwards where he crashed into the ceiling of the elevator, before falling to the floor, unconscious.

“Yeah well, it kind of feels personal” Steve said, his breath slightly ragged from the exertion. He used his foot to flip his shield over like a Frisbee, catching it perfectly.

“You alright?” Steve asked, stepping over the bodies that littered the floor of the elevator to get to Katie.

“Yeah.” She assured him. Steve cut the cuffs that were restraining her into two pieces with his shield and she bent over, his hands gently on her back as she rubbed at her side before straightening up and stalking over to where Rumlow was beginning to stir slightly. She kicked him hard in the face, causing him to flip backwards and he was out, unconscious.

“Nothing personal.” She spat, then looked up at Steve. There was a moment during which they both looked around, trying to make sense of what had happened, before the elevator doors opened and Steve pulled Katie sharply behind him. They both stared at a team of STRIKE agents pointing their weapons into the elevator. Steve raised his shield.

“Drop the shield! Put your hands in the air!”

Steve looked round, and spotted the elevator wires to the left of Katie’s head

“DUCK!” he yelled at her, and as she did, he swiped with his shield over her head sending them plummeting. Eventually the emergency brake systems kicked in and the elevator stopped, slightly misaligned with the doors by a few feet. As Katie bent down to retrieve a gun and some ammo off one of the Agents, Steve forced the door open, intending to climb out but more STRIKE agents were approaching. He closed the door again and looked at Katie, then around the glass walls, looking down below us at the glass roof of the main Triskelion atrium.

It was a long way but they could make it.

“You’re fucking kidding, right?” Katie exclaimed, realising exactly what he was thinking.

“Give it up, Rogers! Get that door open! You have nowhere to go!” came the yell from the floor outside the elevator door.

“Do you trust me?” Steve asked, both his hands cupping Katie’s face.

“Of course I do, but…”

“Then hang on…”

She sighed and jumped onto his back, swinging her legs round his waist and her arms round his neck. Steve raised his shield in front of him, before he propelled them forward and broke through the glass in the elevator, spreading his arms out wide as he fell to prevent them from tumbling through the air before tucking his body as tightly in to his shield as he could. Katie did the same, burying her head into his back as they crashed through the glass ceiling and hit the floor with a loud clang, to screams and shouts from people all around the atrium.

Katie gave a soft groan, rolling off Steve who moaned and stretched out, having been winded from the impact. But Steve knew they had to keep moving. With a monumental effort, he pushed himself up onto his knees, took a deep breath and offered his hand to Katie to help her stand. They both took a quick glance around before he started to run, pulling her with him. She stumbled slightly, but Steve kept hold of her, not letting her fall until her legs seemed to be working again.

And then they ran.

**** Chapter 15

**Original Posting**

[praphit]

F9: What does Absurdity even mean anymore?

Due to COVID, I thought that my last movie theater experience was going to be "Bad Boys For Life". I'm happy to say that if I died today, I would be telling souls in Heaven that "F9" was the last movie I saw on the big screen (I'm sure that films are big talking points in the after life).

There weren't too many people there:

There was a woman coughing in the corner; I barely looked at her. I imagined that COVID was mugging her, and I didn't want to be a witness, and so have COVID come after me next. I'm vaxxed, but still I was thinking of ways to distract COVID, so I could enjoy the film. There was an old couple sitting up front (like REALLY OLD... sitting UP FRONT... Ha! that's awesome). Awesome or not, I was going to point them out if COVID came after me. There were two obese kids sitting a few rows behind me that I could also point out, as well as my friend that I was sitting next to... what?? Look, they would ALL want me to escape, so I could bring my "F9" review to the people!

WHAT??!

Let's not talk about my survival skills, let's talk some Vin & the Fam - that's why we're here!

It took a while for me to remember what was going on:

Dom (Vin), Letty (M. Rod), and their... kid? Oh, right, they have a kid, and they moved on to start a new life together. 

Didn't the real mom die or something?? Idk. You've got the British lady from "GOT" still hanging out with Luda and Tyrese. 

(they so crazy)

"Hobbs and Shaw" are still gone 

(making their own money, cuz bleep family!). 

Brian (Paul Walker's character - rip) is apparently, now everyone's babysitter. So, if anyone in this gang, who could die on any of these missions, ever have kids, they can just send them off to Nanny Brian's. 

There's a dude named Mr. Nobody who sometimes sends the gang on secret spy missions.

Oh, and people in the gang keep coming back from the dead. Boom! We're caught up with this absurdity. That's actually what I asked for when I got to the movies 

"Give me one ticket for Absurdity please."

In this batch of the absurd, we find out that Dom has a brother, and he's John Cena (Jakob). 

Charlize Theron is back! That must have been the worst bet that she has ever lost. I consider her to be one of the most underrated and underappreciated actors we've got, but movies like these ain't helping that case.

And who's idea was it to give her that haircut? - part of the bet she lost, I suppose. 

It was reported that the gang goes into space (at least two of them do). 

Annnnd the X-Men Jet is back! 

(it really does look like that - Wolverine included)

Seriously, after the X-Men's last two movies (which were turrrible), I was expecting them to crossover for a fresh start. Why not?? They're a spy team now, that goes to space! - nothing should be off the table.

They're looking for two halves of some... war sphere?? If put back together with some key... idk... John Cena rules the world.

Remember when Vin and the gang were all about street racing, money, survival, and brown booty? - those were simpler times!

But, why discuss the plot? Seriously, why? None of it makes any sense. From Dom and Letty living like Amish people (which is an ending worse than death for action heroes) 

to their convoluted explanation for bringing the latest person back from the dead (which reminds me of a married couple, when the husband or wife get caught watching porn, and try to explain that it was just a pop-up that came out of nowhere. The other spouse gulps their glass of wine and plows forward - that was me with this - gulping my soda (with a lil Henny) saying "whatever guys, let's please just move on".

and  what's going on with the two brother's is a thin thread at best. AND the villain's motivation...  

But, it's foolish to get into that., and take points off. I LOVE THESE MOVIES, but it ain't for the story. Let's grade "F9" by its own standards:

Racing, Action, and Family (they graduated from booty to family):

Racing

They've done the racing in a small city thing before, but this time it's with magnets! - SUPER MAGNETS!

YES!

I loved this! Cars are getting sucked into magnets. They're using them to make people fly away and explode. Which btw, they did my man Francis Ngannou wrong (an mma fighter). There's a fight scene with a giant white dude on top of a speeding vehicle. That giant white dude could have and should have been the role for Francis, instead he's just here to say high, and then blow up. As much as I loved these scenes, they were too quick in some areas. I think if they had slowed some of the magnet stuff down a bit, we could appreciate more what's happening.

Action

M.Rod is legit. 

She needs her own franchise. The only action star I enjoyed more than her was Vin, and that's really due to the absurdity of one scene. Do y'all remember the "Civil War" scene when Captain America has one hand on a building and another pulling back a helicopter?? 

It's the same level of strength needed for what Vin does in some underground chambers. You can see a bit of it in the trailer. He pulls the whole place down, and then, just like in "Civil War", he ends up in the water (but unconscious). Oh, and he does this after beating up like 50 people at once. Ha! I love it! Then, how he is rescued (cuz c'mon, he can't die) is splendidly preposterous, and I mean that is a complimentary way. That scene is perfection.

The only action that bothers me comes from Dom's sister (mia). 

She just doesn't sell being a fighter, but whatever. No disrespect... she’s beautiful, but... her hair might weigh more than the rest of her body.

Apparently, the highest trained fighters (agents) in the world (who have GUNS) never trained for a unskilled, unprepared, 110 lb woman in her 40's with a frying pan.

Family & Corona

Tyrese and Luda are always funny, but their act is growing a bit thin. It actually felt like an act this time around. I think it's time to add another black man in the mix; perhaps one who's older than they are... TRACY MORGAN?

Throw an OG in there and it'll freshen things up again. I do like though how Tyrese is starting to suspect that they might be immortals. I think they should test that theory out in the next movie; maybe have Tyrese break the fourth wall, kinda like Deadpool, as he realizes this is just a dumbass movie.

Dom and Letty's kid... terrible. I'm sorry! This is a bias of mine, but kids normally suck at acting. This one is no exception. Just get an older actor to play the young kid. I'm thinking Ryan Reynolds would have been a good choice.

You may be saying "that's absurd!" - I'm glad that y'all can still tell what that word means, cuz I can't.

The rest of the chemistry family magic is great!

Oh, and Cardi is here, but... barely (for like 30 seconds, if that). 

No rapping, no wapping, no cursing... kind of a waste of Cardi B, if you ask me.

John Cena aka Jakob with a K!

Meh. JC def has charisma, just not in this movie. He doesn't stand out at all. You know?? - The Rock, Jason Statham, Charlize Theron, etc all have a presence about them in this franchise. Cena?! what happened, buddy?

There are certain music artists whom you'd think would have a great personality based off their music and how they dress. But, then you meet them, and you realize that they're just normal bozos like you and I (only rich and famous). And normal bozos like you and I, AT TIMES can be boring. You gotta have some flair if you're not going to have personality. Give my man some pink glittery highlights, a face tat, some vampire teeth, and maybe a chainsaw for his left arm or something.

Grade: Good action. The absurdities were funny. I was entertained! Production was great! BUT it's getting tired, my friends. It's the same formula that I've mentioned and then, like always, they're grilling and drinking Corona's in the sun. After nine movies (with at least two more on the way)... I never thought I'd say this, but it's actually not absurd enough. Wait... I seriously can't believe I just said that.

I need to say that again to know it's real.

This movie wasn't absurd.. enough? ENOUGH. IT WASN'T! They're going to need to step it up for the next two.

They were in space, but not for long. They raced for the most part in regular cars (regular for them). . You only brought ONE person back from the dead??! C'mon! We can do better.

I'm giving it an entertaining C+

I like that we saw different younger Dom's (during flashbacks) through time. I think that the next type of vehicle they bust out should be a DeLorean.

Y'all feel me?? TIME TRAVEL, baby! 

Vin and the gang race through time! They can have Tracy Morgan. They'll each have a younger version (or older) of themselves join the group. Cardi B will actually do something this time - maybe turn into a car! 

And maybe Cable shows up as they tie it to Marvel.

Think bigger, Vin!

[mst3kproject]

Invasion of the Star Creatures

I promised you guys something truly awful this week, didn’t I?  Well, how about a space invasion ‘comedy’ (big emphasis on the air quotes there) produced by Samuel Zarkoff to be a double-bill with The Brain that Wouldn’t Die?  The closest thing it has to a star is Frankie Ray, whom MSTies might know as the writer of Laserblast.  He also wrote Zoltan, Hound of Dracula, which I really, really need to see one of these days.  Film Historian Bill Warren described Invasion of the Star Creatures as ‘so helplessly bad it’s almost unwatchable’.  Let’s find out if he was right.

Fort Nicholson is the world’s center for atomic research, despite apparently being staffed entirely by idiots.  The two biggest idiots are, unfortunately, our main characters.  Their names are Philbrick and Penn.  No, I don’t know which is which.  No, I don’t care.  I’m gonna call them Rick and Rick With The Squeaky Voice.  The first ‘comedic’ sequence involves Rick With The Squeaky Voice sitting in a barrel pretending he’s going to space, and getting his ass set on fire.

That sets the tone for the whole movie quite nicely. It’s stupid and it’s not funny, and it never gets any better.  In fact, as we shall see, it gets significantly worse.

For some reason, Rick and Rick With The Squeaky Voice are assigned to a mission to explore a cave recently exposed by a nuclear test.  This turns out to be the base for two seven-foot space women, Tanga and Pona, and their tuberous minions, the Vege-Men, and the entire party is soon in their clutches.  The aliens say that they have come to save humanity from destroying ourselves through nuclear war, but naturally the army isn’t into that.  Rick With The Squeaky Voice discovers that kissing the women puts them into a daze, allowing the two idiots to escape, but of course nobody back at Fort Nicholson believes their story.  Is it really up to these two to stop Tanga and Pona from heading back to their home planet with their report?  We’re doomed.

I don’t remember which review it was, but I once invited you to imagine a movie in which every character is Dropo or Watney Smith.  This is that movie.  This is proud of being that movie.  The aliens try to read the two Ricks’ minds and one is completely empty while the other is full of superhero fantasies.  Pona calls what she sees ‘completely illogical and infantile’, which is a fair description of the whole movie.

There’s a sequence where one of the army men shoots a rattlesnake that was about to bite one of the Ricks, and then cries because ‘he might have had a family’.  They try to lampoon the thing in old movies where the characters walk through the same set from different angles by doing it without cutting away or changing the camera angle, but it just looks dumb.  The Colonel gives a long-winded speech about the merits of getting straight to the point.  A forced march stops for a lovely picnic and wine tasting.  A guy gets his ass kicked by a Vege-Man and declares, “that’s the first time a salad ever tossed me.”  There’s a running ‘gag’ about fans of ‘Space Commander Connors’ recognizing each other’s secret decoder rings and immediately going into a full-on geek-out.

None of this is funny, much of it is downright embarrassing, and the worst part is that the writers have no idea how to include their attempts at comedy in the story.  Rather than the hijinks advancing the plot, every time something that’s supposed to be funny happens, the whole thing comes to a dead halt.  This gives the impression that the movie is stumbling around in the dark with no idea where it’s going.  It finally seems to settle on a plot when we find out that the spaceship is about to leave and must be stopped.  After some bullshit the Ricks convince the Colonel (and only the Colonel) to help them take on the aliens.  At this point I was thinking that this movie was pretty terrible but it hadn’t actually pushed me to the point of being tempted to turn it off…

And then it got racist.

The last ten minutes or so of Invasion of the Star Creatures are a downward spiral in which it seems like they gave up trying to be funny in favour of being actively offensive. First, they encounter what’s supposed to be a group of Native Americans on horseback.  Rick With The Squeaky Voice tries to get their attention by saying “hey, Kemosabe, I wanna buy some blankets!”  The Natives don’t speak much English but they do a lot of grunting, and threaten to kill the Colonel because they think he’s General Custer (?!).  Then they kidnap everybody and force them to smoke the peace pipe and drink firewater and the white guys only escape once the Natives have passed out.

Holy shit.  Not only is this repulsive, it is, as previously noted, irrelevant.  It has no effect on the plot other than to waste time.  The Natives do not help them defeat the aliens and neither does the Colonel, who is also in a drunken stupor.  And then, just when we think this can’t possibly get any worse, the defeated alien women declare that they must throw themselves on the mercy of the Earth Men.  This turns out to mean marrying them, and the dialogue specifically likens marriage to slavery, which Tanga and Pona seem to consider a point in its favour!  The end of this movie left my head spinning.  It’s like I watched a guy get ‘comedically’ knocked over by a punching bag for forty-five minutes and then he suddenly turned around and punched me in the face.

(Hey, I just realized… remember how I said the cave was exposed by a nuclear test?  The dialogue emphasizes how this whole area is irradiated and dangerous – and then totally forgets about it.  It’s never mentioned again and the characters take off their protective gear and never put it back on.  So… that was useless, too.)

There is stuff in this movie that could have been funny.  The secret decoder ring stuff almost got a smile out of me once or twice, because the characters seemed so earnest in their love for ‘Space Commander Connors’ and his lore.  The ‘Vege-Men’ also had potential.  We get to see a greenhouse room where they’re grown to be the women’s slaves, and the seedlings are hands or feet sticking out of flowerpots with a few leaves around them.  This is fairly amusing and I could see it being the juvenile form of a sentient plant on Star Trek TOS.  Adult Vege-Men are actors in stupid carrot costumes that they obviously can’t see out of very well, which should have been funny just because it’s so terrible, but Invasion of the Star Creatures is so bad you can’t even laugh at it ironically.

The idea of using a bumbling idiot as your main character, let alone two bumbling idiots, frankly baffles me.  Rick and Rick With The Squeaky Voice are supposed to be the guys we, the audience, identify with.  We’re supposed to like and root for them and to perhaps be able to imagine ourselves in their places, but the only thing I feel for them is contempt.  Why would anyone want to see themselves in these guys?  Perhaps it’s an attempt to say that anybody can be a hero, but the two Ricks don’t even qualify as that.  When they save the world, it’s basically by accident.  The ending, which rewards them with promotions, medals, and beautiful wives from outer space, actively makes me angry because they didn’t earn any of that!

Invasion of the Star Creatures works very hard at being pointless, and there’s very little in it that comes anywhere near a theme.  If any such thing exists, its in Tanga and Pona’s insistence that they’re here to save humanity whether we like it or not, and how the humans react to that idea.  The women say it would be a shame to see a young civilization destroy itself because nations were too stupid to work together.  Rick and Rick With The Squeaky Voice reject this entirely, which is supposed to be a joke: these guys are in the army, so if humanity transcends the need for conflict they’d be out of a job.  The rest of the plot then seems at pain to emphasize that humans cannot work together, and do not want to.

After all, the two Ricks’ attempts to summon help come to nothing.  The Native Americans never understand that these men want assistance, and the Colonel thinks it’s all a Space Commander Connors game before sliding under the metaphorical table, having never done anything useful.  The Ricks themselves spent most of their time arguing and complaining and in the end succeed only through good luck on their part and poor timing on that of the invaders.  Usually a story that begins with ‘aliens want to save primitive humans from ourselves’ would end with ‘the aliens were wrong about us’.  Invasion of the Star Creatures seems to want to say the aliens were right the whole time!

So there you have it – Invasion of the Star Creatures.  It started off kinda bad and not funny, then swirled down the cinematic toilet into outright offensive, racist, sexist drivel.  I’m trying to think of some small thing I can say about it that’s nice, but I’m having a very hard time.  I guess I kinda liked the rumbly noises that represent the alien language – that was more fun than just having the actresses spout random gobbledygook.  Other than that, I’m at a loss.  The actors suck, the sets suck, the effects suck, the costumes suck, and everybody involved was a bigoted dickweed.  Fuck this movie.

[papermoonloveslucy]

LUCY vs TIME

June 22, 1973

The publicity photos, from the movie set of Mame were unrecognizable. Unrecognizable! Why, they were unbelievable. Either somebody had shot them through six layers of soft-focus gauze - or a time machine. 

Who was this frisky redhead hoofer kicking up her heels on the distant reaches of some resplendent soundstage, cannily avoiding a camera close-up?

Who was this svelte eyed lady fluttering from beneath a fringed rug of false lashes, not a wrinkle, sag or bag, not to mention even an expression line, sporting her famous face?

Well, clearly the lady was a star. And as star of Warner Brothers' new $8 million musical version of Mame, Lucille Ball had veto rights over all still photographs.

The trouble was that obviously nobody had had the nerve to tell her that if she could order reality rubbed out of a picture with a wave of the retoucher's brush, she couldn't pull the gauze over the eyes of an interviewer ushered into the Mame set to confront the living flesh, unretouched. 

Time has not been unkind to Lucille Ball. No, beneath a billowing wine velvet and cream satin lounge suit, the svelte one-time chorus-girl's curves are still obvious. Despite a badly broken right leg from a skiing accident that had left the shooting of Mame stalled and the star in a cast for nearly a year, the shapely former showgirl's gams had now already carried her through a dozen dance routines up on top of pianos and down banisters that would have taxed a tap-dancer half her age. 

At 61, Lucille Ball could pass for a dozen years younger. But only a dozen years. 

The outrageous, outsize eyelashes now stick like pine spikes out of a swamp of tucks, puckers and bags etched around her shrewd big baby-blues. Her plastic face is a relief map of over-made-up wrinkles, the big bright red Cupid's-bow mouth lipsticked in a smile outside her own spidery upline. 

But you don't survive 22 years on TV in the top ratings, get renewed once again this season when all about Bridgets and Bernies and Dean Martins (1) are falling to the network's chop, practically bear a baby and outlast a broken real-life marriage on the TV tube, take over a foundering corporation and build it into the single most powerful independent TV production house, without it showing in your face. 

One look at Lucille Ball's face and you don't doubt it for a minute when Hal, her make-up man for 32 years, says she used to limp on to the Mame set in excruciating pain. Then, the minute the cameras clicked on, burst into a dazzling and seemingly effortless song-and-dance. 

Not that the lady would admit it for a minute. "It was excruciating pain," she dismisses the subject airily. 

But then these days she's not admitting much. It was a lesson learned the hard way. One recent fateful February day, over perhaps one too many Pouilly-Fuisses on the rocks, she was admitting so much so freely to the New York Times that the story read like a Hedda Hopper monologue. 

On Desi Arnaz Sr., the Cuban bongo (2) player-bandleader she met and married out of a chorus line in 1940 and divorced 22 years later after a marriage that was even stormier off -screen than on: "He drank too much and he couldn't stand success."

On Desi Arnaz Jr., their 20-year-old son and his much-publicized romance with actress Patty Duke: "I had my doubts if the baby was Desi's at all. I said to him, "You feel responsible? Boy, you're all of 16 1/2 years old and you want to spend the rest of your life with this neurotic person?'" 

On Liza Minnelli, then Desi's current fiancée: "They took her for over a million and a quarter more than her mother's debt. Just for beginners..." 

One mention of the story now is enough to send sparks flying. "Why, that man should be..." she sputters over the reporter, "...spanked!" 

It's a first burst of spontaneity from a lady who, once burned, is now so careful that she sounds at times as if he's dictating to the Library of Congress. 

"I never thought I'd get this far, do so much, have such beautiful children," she says, chain-smoking in her dressing-room, all the wide-eyed telephone lineman's daughter from upstate New York. She knocks on wood. 

"All I ever wanted was to get to vaudeville and I never made it." 

When she hit New York to take acting classes at 16, the school sent back her mother's money, saying. "No talent." And now, refund in hand, 81-year-old DeeDee Ball, as the whole family calls her, sits in a front-row seat for every “Here's Lucy” show, just as she has done non-stop for the last 22 years. 

Still it wasn't till 1951, when the Amazes dreamed up the “I Love Lucy” show, patterned after their own lives, as a way of keeping their marriage together and bandleader Desi home from the road, that success came. 

But when it came, it was she who stole the show. 

By two years later, 68 per cent of TV viewers in America were tuned in to see her show-by-show birth to Desi Arnaz Jr., whose arrival vied with the U.S. presidential election results for front-page space under the headline, "Lucy's $50 million baby." 

Everybody, it seemed, loved Lucy except perhaps Desi Arnaz. Despite her insistence that "the series was happy there was no fighting. It was the greatest time of my life," she admits, "the trouble came much later. Only the last five years were hard." 

Which means that the greatest time of her life lasted only a scant six years. When their marriage broke up officially in 1962 (3), friends introduced her to a stand-up comic named Gary Morton, now her producer, vice-president of Lucille Ball Productions, Inc., official show warm-up man and for 11 years now, Mr. Lucille Ball. 

As her daughter Lucie, 22, and still a performer on the show, puts it. "She may be the king of stage 12, but at home she's queen Gary's the king!" 

She indulges his passion for golf and a garage full of classic cars, but with the warning: "If he ever looks at another woman, I'll kill him."

She says she never makes a business move without him, but when she was left to head up the giant Desilu Corporation after her marriage break-up, it was she who was known as the woman shrewd enough to snap up “Mannix”, “Mission Impossible” and “Star Trek” when they were apparently doomed pilots, a comedienne who was not so comical in the executive suite. 

But as for her much-vaunted business acumen, she is all denials and femininity. 

"Me? No way. Desi did the whole thing. He was a fantastic businessman. I only took it over to build it up and sell it. I mean, there was a certain amount of building up to do." 

When she took it over from Arnaz in 1961, Desilu had lost over $600,000. When she sold it seven years later, for $17 million in Gulf and Western stock, making her the conglomerate's largest stockholder and, some say, the wealthiest woman in Hollywood, the company had grossed $30-million and made a profit of ever $800,000. 

"But everyone in the know knew I wasn't tough," she says. "No, the men I surrounded myself with were." 

Still there a flinty glint behind the false lashes, a shrewd imperious purse to the painted lips, a ring to the wise-cracking whisky voice that's used to being heard. She moves around the Mame soundstage in queenly command, dispensing Norman Vincent Peal-doms, part star, part super-mother. 

When it comes time for a scene featuring co-star Bea Arthur, she practically takes over directing from Gene Saks, Miss Arthur's husband. "Now did you tell her what side of the camera to be on?" she asks Saks, who looks like he might explode. "Now honey, toe your mark," she fusses over Bea, who grows quiet, explaining later: 

"Lucy's really a dear. But sometimes it can get a little overpowering." 

She doesn't talk to people without picking lint off their clothes, and straightening their collars, a habit that comes naturally enough to a woman who has her whole retinue, hairdresser, secretary, make-up man and driver of the last two decades - even her little picket-fenced French-provincial dressing-room trailer, with its false shutters and plastic ivy - picked up and transplanted wherever she strays from Lucy Lane where she presides at Universal Studios, year after year.

With her kids, she was, as daughter Lucie says, "Strict - and you want to believe it. We were the only kids we knew who had to work around the house for whatever money we'd get." Lucie still gets paid only scale for her mother's show. 

But Desi Jr. wasn't exactly a natural. "He'd be asleep on the sidelines and I'd be ready to smack him," Lucy says, "When he said he was interested in serious acting, I said, 'Oh, really?' But he got out and worked. He surprised me. He surprised everybody. He even surprised himself." 

Still, for all her talk about the joys of getting away to her Colorado ski lodge where she does "the cooking, the washing, the socks, the things I miss - not to mention the leg breaking - there's not much chance that Lucille Ball is going to be sitting the next round out, wallowing in domesticity, In the old rocking chair. 

#   #   #

FOOTNOTES FROM THE FUTURE

(1) “Bridget Loves Bernie” was a 1972 sitcom about a mixed marriage between a Jewish man and a Catholic woman. Like Lucy and Desi, stars Meredith Baxter and David Birney were also married in real life.  Despite excellent ratings (it was the highest-rated new show of the 1972-73 season) the show was cancelled after only one season. The official reason for its cancellation was that it was scheduled between two mega-hits, “All in the Family” and “The Mary Tyler Moore Show”, and its ratings weren't strong enough considering its choice position in the line-up.  

Also, that same season, the long-running “The Dean Martin Show” (1965-1974) was cancelled. Lucille Ball had made three appearances on the show, and he also appeared on hers.  

(2) Conga drums, not bongos. It is slightly dismissive to call Desi Arnaz a bongo player. 

(3) The editor makes the error of assuming that Lucy divorced Desi and Married Gary Morton the same year. She divorced Desi in April 1960, and married Gary in November 1961, a year and a half later. 

This article was published in the Leisure section of The Vancouver (BC) Sun on June 22, 1973.  The article was written by Marci McDonald and illustrated by David Annesley. 

[kiridune]

On Hallowed Ground

Sat, Sep. 07, 2002 Miami Herald

By DAVE BARRY (http://davebarry.com/misccol/hallowedground.htm)

On a humid July day in Pennsylvania, hundreds of tourists, as millions have before them, are drifting among the simple gravestones and timeworn monuments of the national cemetery at Gettysburg.

Several thousand soldiers are buried here. A few graves are decorated with flowers, suggesting some of the dead have relatives who still come here. There's a sign at the entrance, reminding people that this is a cemetery. It says: "SILENCE AND RESPECT."

Most of the tourists are being reasonably respectful, for tourists, although many, apparently without noticing, walk on the graves, stand on the bones of the soldiers. Hardly anybody is silent. Perky tour guides are telling well-practiced stories and jokes; parents are yelling at children; children are yelling at each other. A tour group of maybe two dozen teen-agers are paying zero attention to anything but each other, flirting, laughing, wrapped in the happy self-absorbed obliviousness of Teen-agerLand.

A few yards away, gazing somberly toward the teen-agers, is a bust of Abraham Lincoln. Lincoln gave his Gettysburg Address here 139 years ago, when the gentle rolling landscape, now green and manicured, was still raw and battle-scarred, the earth recently soaked with the blood of the 8,000 who died, and the tens of thousands more who were wounded, when two armies, 160,000 men, fought a terrible battle on July 1, 2 and 3 that determined the outcome of the Civil War.

Nobody planned for the battle to happen here. Neither army set out for Gettysburg. But this is where it happened. This is where, out of randomness, out of chance, a thousand variables conspired to bring the two mighty armies together. And so this quiet little town, because it happened to be here, became historic, significant, a symbol, its identity indelibly defined by this one overwhelming event. This is where these soldiers - soldiers from Minnesota, soldiers from Kentucky, soldiers who had never heard of Gettysburg before they came here to die - will lie forever.

This is hallowed ground.

On the same July day, a few hours' drive to the west, near the small Pennsylvania town of Shanksville, Wally Miller, coroner of Somerset County, Pa., walks slowly through the tall grass covering a quiet field, to a place near the edge, just before some woods.

This is the place where, on Sept. 11, 2001, United Airlines Flight 93, scene of a desperate airborne battle pitting passengers and crew against terrorist hijackers, came hurtling out of the sky, turning upside down and slamming into the earth at more than 500 mph.

That horrendous event transformed this quiet field into a smoking, reeking hell, a nightmare landscape of jet fuel, burning plane debris, scattered human remains.

Now, 10 months later, the field is green again. Peaceful and green.

Except where Flight 93 plunged into the ground. That one place is still barren dirt. That one place has not healed.

"Interesting that the grass won't grow right here," says Miller.

Nobody on Flight 93 was heading for Somerset County that day. The 33 passengers and seven crew were heading from Newark, N.J., to San Francisco. The four hijackers had a different destination in mind, probably Washington, D.C., possibly the White House.

Nobody on the plane meant to come here.

"I doubt that any one of them would ever set foot in Somerset County, except maybe to stop at Howard Johnson's on the turnpike," Miller says. "They have no roots here."

But this is where they are. And this is where they will stay.

No bodies were recovered here, at least not as we normally think of bodies. In the cataclysmic violence of the crash, the people on Flight 93 literally disintegrated. Searchers found fragments of bones, small pieces of flesh, a hand. But no bodies.

In the grisly accounting of a jetliner crash, it comes down to pounds: The people on Flight 93 weighed a total of about 7,500 pounds. Miller supervised an intensive effort to gather their remains, some flung hundreds of yards. In the end, just 600 pounds of remains were collected; of these, 250 pounds could be identified by DNA testing and returned to the families of the passengers and crew.

Forty families, wanting to bury their loved ones. Two hundred fifty pounds of identifiable remains.

"There were people who were getting a skull cap and a tooth in the casket," Miller says. "That was their loved ones."

The rest of the remains, the vast majority, will stay here forever, in this ground.

"For all intents and purposes, they're buried here," Miller says. "This is a cemetery."

This is also hallowed ground.

In the Gettysburg Address, Lincoln was essentially trying to answer a question. The question was: How do you honor your heroes? Lincoln's answer was: You can't. No speech you give, no monument you erect, will be worthy of them, of their sacrifice. The best you can do is remember the cause they died for, finish the job they started.

Of course the passengers and crew on Flight 93, when they set out from Newark that morning, had no cause in common. They were people on a plane bound from Newark to San Francisco. Some were going home, some traveling on business, some on vacation.

People on a plane.

Which makes it all the more astonishing, what they did.

You've been on planes. Think how it feels, especially on a morning cross-country flight. You got up early; you're tired; you've been buckled in your seat for a couple of hours, with hours more to go. You're reading, or maybe dozing. You're essentially cargo: There's nowhere you can go, nothing you can do, no role you could possibly play in flying this huge, complex machine. You retreat into your passenger cocoon, passive, trusting your fate to the hands of others, confident that they'll get you down safe, because they always do.

Now imagine what that awful morning was like for the people on Flight 93. Imagine being ripped from your safe little cocoon, discovering that the plane was now controlled by killers, that your life was in their bloody hands. Imagine knowing that there was nobody to help you, except you, and the people, mostly strangers, around you.

Imagine that, and ask yourself: What would you do? Could you do anything? Could you overcome the fear clenching your stomach, the cold, paralyzing terror?

The people on Flight 93 did. With hijackers in control of the plane, with the captain and first officer most likely dead, the people on this plane got on their cell phones, and the plane's Airfones. They reached people on the ground, explained what was happening to them. They expressed their love. They said goodbye.

But they did not give up. As they were saying goodbye, they were gathering information. They learned about the World Trade Center towers. They understood that Flight 93 was on a suicide mission. They figured out what their options were.

Then they organized.

Then they fought back.

In "Among the Heroes," a riveting book about Flight 93, New York Times reporter Jere Longman reports many of the last words spoken to loved ones on the ground by people on the plane. They're not the words of people in shock, people resigned to whatever fate awaits them. They're the words of people planning an attack. Fighters.

Here, for example, are the last words of passenger Honor Elizabeth Wainio to her stepmother: "They're getting ready to break into the cockpit. I have to go. I love you. Goodbye."

Here are flight attendant Sandy Bradshaw's last words to her husband: "We're going to throw water on them and try to take the airplane back over. Phil, everyone's running to first class. I've got to go. Bye."

And of course there are the now-famous words of Todd Beamer, who, after explaining the situation on the plane to an Airfone supervisor in Illinois, turned to somebody near him and said: "You ready? OK, let's roll."

They're getting ready to break into the cockpit.

I've got to go.

Let's roll.

We'll never know exactly what happened next. Some believe that the fighters managed to get into the cockpit, and that, in the ensuing struggle for control, the plane went down. Others believe that the hijackers, trying to knock the fighters off their feet, flew the plane erratically, and in doing so lost control. Inevitably, there is Internet-fueled speculation that the plane was secretly shot down by the U.S. government. (The government denies this.)

But whatever happened, we know two things for sure:

We know that the plane went down before it reached its target - that the hijackers failed to strike a national symbol, a populated area. They failed.

And we know that the people on the plane fought back. On a random day, on a random flight, they found themselves - unwarned, unprepared, unarmed - on the front lines of a vicious new kind of war. And somehow, in the few confusing and terrifying minutes they had, they transformed themselves from people on a plane into soldiers, and they fought back. And that made them heroes, immediately and forever, to a wounded, angry nation, a nation that desperately wanted to fight back.

And now these heroes lie here, in this field where their battle ended. This cemetery. This battlefield. This hallowed ground.

Wally Miller, coroner, has walked this ground hundreds of times. He spent endless hours among those collecting human remains and picking up plane parts. Even now, he walks with his eyes down, looking, looking. Every now and then he reaches down and picks up a tiny piece of plane - a thimble-sized piece of twisted gray metal, a bit of charred plastic, a shard of circuit board, a wire. This is what Flight 93 became: millions of tiny pieces, a vast puzzle that can never be reassembled. Despite the cleanup effort, there are still thousands of plane parts scattered for acres around the crash site, just under the new plant growth, reminders of what happened here.

The site is peaceful; no sound but birds. Miller walks from the bright field into the hemlock woods just beyond the barren spot where Flight 93 slammed into the earth. It's mid-afternoon, but the woods are in permanent dusk, the tall trees allowing only a dim, gloomy light to filter down to the lush green ferns that blanket the ground. The woods look undisturbed, except for bright "X"s painted on the trunks of dozens of hemlocks. The "X"s mark the trees that were scaled by climbers retrieving human remains, flung high and deep into woods by the force of the crash.

Some of the hemlocks, damaged by debris and fire and jet fuel, had to be cut down. These trees were supposed to be trucked away, but Miller, who, as coroner, still controls the crash site, would not allow it. Some of the trees have been ground into mulch; some lie in piles of logs and branches. But they're all still here. Miller won't let them be removed.

"This is a cemetery," he says, again. And he is determined that it will be respected as a cemetery. All of it. Even the trees.

Almost immediately after the battle of Gettysburg, people started coming to see the place where history happened. More than a century later, they're coming still.

Some are pilgrims: For them, Gettysburg is a solemn place, where the suffering and sacrifice of the soldiers still hangs heavy in the air. Some are purely tourists: For them, Gettysburg is another attraction to visit, like the Grand Canyon, or Graceland - famous, but not particularly relevant to their everyday lives. You park, you look, you take a picture, you leave.

I think that most of the visitors to Gettysburg, even today, are some mixture of pilgrim and tourist. But as the battle has receded in time, as the scars of the war have healed, tourism clearly has come to dominate the mixture. Despite the valiant efforts of many to preserve the soul of this place, to explain to the waist-pack hordes why this ground is hallowed, Gettysburg, surrounded by motels and gift shoppes, accessorized by a wax museum and a miniature-golf course, is now much more a tourist attraction than a shrine.

But soldiers are still buried here. And people still come to place flowers on graves. And the sign at the entrance to the cemetery still makes its plea: SILENCE AND RESPECT.

Immediately after Sept. 11, people started coming to see where Flight 93 went down. The site is a little tricky to find, but they found it, and they're coming still, every day, a steady stream of people who want to be near this place. They're not allowed on the site itself, which is fenced off and guarded, so they go to the temporary memorial that has been set up by the side of a two-lane rural road overlooking the crash site, a quarter-mile away.

The memorial - the word seems grandiose, when you see it - is a gravel parking area, two portable toilets, two flagpoles and a fence. The fence was erected to give people a place to hang things. Many visitors leave behind something - a cross, a hat, a medal, a patch, a T-shirt, an angel, a toy airplane, a plaque - symbols, tokens, gifts for the heroes in the ground. There are messages for the heroes, too, thousands of letters, notes, graffiti scrawls, expressing sorrow, and love, and anger, and, most often, gratitude, sometimes in yearbookish prose:

"Thanx 4 everything to the heroes of Flight 93!!"

Visitors read the messages, look at the stuff on the fence, take pictures. But mostly they stare silently across the field, toward the place where Flight 93 went down. They look like people you see at Gettysburg, staring down the sloping field where Pickett's charge was stopped, and the tide of war changed, in a few minutes of unthinkable carnage. There is nothing, really, to see on either field now, but you find it hard to pull your eyes away, knowing, imagining, what happened there.

There will be a permanent memorial for Flight 93. The temporary one is touching in its way, a heartfelt and spontaneous tribute to the heroes. But it's also haphazard, verging on tacky. Everyone agrees that something more dignified is needed. The official wheels are already turning: Congress has begun considering a bill to place the site in federal custody. Eventually land will be acquired; a commission will be appointed; a design will be approved.

Wally Miller frets about the memorial. He worries that, in the push to commemorate this as The Defining Moment In The War Against Terrorism, people will forget that it was also - maybe primarily - a personal tragedy for 40 families. He believes that, whatever is done at the site, there should be a place set aide for the Flight 93 families to grieve in private, away from the public, the tourists, the sightseers, the voyeurs, and what Miller calls "the metal-detector assholes."

Tim Lambert, who owns the woods where many of the remains were found, agrees that the paramount concern has to be the families.

"They are forced to live with this tragedy every day," he says. "The site itself is, for the most part, the final resting place for their loved ones. People need to remember and respect that."

One of the most heartrending quotes in "Among the Heroes" is from Deena Burnett, the widow of Flight 93 passenger Tom Burnett, who is believed to have played an active role in the battle on the plane. Mrs. Burnett is describing what it's like to be the widow of a hero:

"In the beginning, everyone asked, 'Aren't you proud of him? Aren't you happy that he's a hero?' I thought, my goodness, the first thing you have to understand is, I'm just trying to put one foot in front of the other. For my husband to be anyone's hero ... I'd much prefer him to be here with me."

So we need to remember this: The heroes of Flight 93 were people on a plane. Their glory is being paid for, day after day, by grief. Tom Burnett does not belong to the nation. He is, first and foremost, Deena Burnett's husband, and the father of their three daughters. Any effort we make to claim him as ours is an affront to those who loved him, those he loved.

He is not ours.

And yet ...

... and yet he is a hero to us, he and the other people on Flight 93. We want to honor them, just as we want to honor the firefighters, police officers and civilians at the World Trade Center and the Pentagon who risked, and sometimes gave, their lives to try to rescue others. We want to honor them for what they did, and for reminding us that this nation is nowhere near as soft and selfish as we had come to believe.

We want to honor them.

And so in a few years, when grass grows once again over the place where Flight 93 hit the ground, when the "X"s have faded from the hemlocks, there will be a memorial here, an official, permanent memorial to the heroes of Flight 93. It will be dedicated in a somber and dignified ceremony, and people will make speeches. Somebody - bet on it - will quote the Gettysburg Address, the part about giving the last full measure of devotion. The speeches will be moving, but they will also prove Lincoln's point, that the words of the living can add nothing to the deeds of the dead.

Thanx 4 everything to the heroes of Flight 93!!

There will be expressions of condolence to the families, and these, too, will be heartfelt. But they will not take away the grief.

I'd much prefer him to be here with me.

And then the ceremony will end, and the people will go home. And the heroes, the people on the plane, will remain here in the ground of Somerset County.

And years will pass, and more people will come here, and more, people who were not yet born when Flight 93 went down, coming to see this famous place.

Let's hope, for their sake, that the world they live in is less troubled than it is today. Let's hope they've never had to feel anything like the pain of Sept. 11, 2001.

Let's also hope that, when they stand here, they know enough to be silent, to show respect.

Let's hope they understand why this is hallowed ground.