#peters elephant nose fish

[fishyfishyfishtimes]

Daily fish fact #387

Peter's elephantnose fish!

It has the largest brain to body oxygen use ratio of any vertebrate!

[dragonthunders01]

Spectember D7: Kin Selection

After 15 million years the fluvial regions of central Africa have been changing in magnitude but their ecosystem remained similar to the time humans once stood on their shores, and as they have been gone for a long time their inhabitants kept evolving, no much of the fauna to the exception of the forest dwelling ones have changed, new species split from the older ones and other replaced previous ones. Fishes have been as fluid in change as the river they live, and so some have always tried to adapt with new strategies for their own survival or even their relatives.

In this case remarks a species of elephantfish (Mormyridae), a group of very diverse electric fishes from Africa characterized by their developed brains compared to other bony fishes, they have been experiencing further specialization with their intelligence that has changed their survival strategies, The Caretaker elephant-fish (Gnathoscalprum comifamilis) is a sample species of it, descendant of the Peters's elephant-nose fish (Gnathonemus petersii) it differs little of their ancestors morphologically with a average length of 25 cm long, though it has a more robust pointy chin and a larger tail electric muscle that help them to perceive their environment more than other species, although this is not what makes them stranger compared to other species.

The thing that differs them is their social lifestyle, they gather in small groups composed by close familiars, sisters, brothers and often 2 or 4 parents that are the dominant of the group with dozens of younger individuals per breeding season, they recognize each other thanks to a specific learned systems of electric pings each of the familiar learn and memorize, to recognize each other, this varying of family and family and anybody outside of them are aggressively kick out. The group often live upon caring for them and the members often scattering the bottom for food or shelter, normally the brothers and sisters are proactively caring for the minor and main reproductive couple even risking their life, even if that means they likely will never reproduce with other, this behavior imprints on other of the same family and can be carried by the descendants of the reproductive couple which can be passed to another generation. A way to avoid inbreeding often go with lonely individuals of other families that managed to leave their group, that can properly unite successfully with other family if they are capable to prove they can benefit them, or if they straight up kill one of the main couples, which from there will select another mate of the same family and kick the original one that survive, this helping them to avoid inbreeding.

[doggiewoggiez]

My 75 gallon Central African tank!

Stocking and such below

Fish/Inverts

Senegal Bichir (Polypterus senegalus) x2

AKA Dinosaur Bichir. They get 9-12 inches, they're badass predators but the tankmates will be safe, too big to be aggressed upon. I've got one albino and one normal one. Their names are Bulk and Skull, like from Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers. They have true lungs and can breathe people-air! It's cool to watch them do it.

Leopard Bushfish (Ctenopoma acutirostre) x1

AKA Spotted Climbing Perch. Gets about 5-9 inches but is a slow grower, so considering moving him to a 20 long with one of my Krib pairs and my Synos when I eventually move them and he can return to the 75 when big. In the wild these guys drift along until they're close enough to nab some prey that thinks they're just a leaf. His name is Demi because of the famous Demi Moore photo.

Peters's Elephant Nose Fish (Gnathonemus petersii) x1

AKA Ubangi Mormyrid. By far my most interesting guy. He's an electric fish, and that silly proboscis is called a Schnauzenorgan, covered in electroreceptors, which he uses to snuffle around for worms. He has an organ in his ass that generates an electric field. No, really. They've also got the highest brain to body oxygen usage ratio of any vertebrate. He's super cute and full of personality! Wild caught, too, so this guy traveled across half the planet to get to me. In ancient Egypt these guys were believed to have eaten the penis of Osiris and were worshipped in the city of Oxyrhynchus.

Kribensis (Pelvicachromis pulcher) x4

AKA Rainbow Cichlid. An African cichlid that's not an asshole? Sign me up. Well, they're still assholes but only to each other. You probably could spot a full grown 4" male, a pair of 2" female and male, and a 1.5" female in the video if you look closely. Incredibly beautiful fish, very aggressive when they breed, so I plan to separate one pair of kribs into a 20g and leave the other in the 75. One of the rare instances where the females are the flashier ones!

Congo Tetra (Phenacogrammus interruptus) x6

One of the larger tetras kept in aquaria, they get about 4 inches or so too. Semi-aggressive, which here just means they steal everyone's food and get fat, so I have to distract them with flakes on one side of the tank so everyone else can eat. Beautiful, shiny blues and reds and clear fins. Love 'em. Way overpriced for tetras though, like 8 bucks per! Comparably sized South American tetras are still $2.50 at PetSmart.

African Butterfly Fish (Pantodon buchholzi) x1

You've probably seen them in nature documentaries. They're those guys that float at the waters surface looking like a butterfly or a leaf until they see some unsuspecting bug above the water and then BAM! They jump way up and snatch 'em. Relative of the Arowana. Beautiful little guy, goes bananas bonkers when I feed him crickets.

Upside-Down Catfish (Synodontis nigriventris) x3

AKA Blotched upside-down catfish. Adorable little guys with naturally tubby bellies. They're friendly and I love them, though they'll be moving to the 20 gallon long with kribs and Demi. They really do swim upside down!

FALSE Upside-Down Catfish (Synodontis nigrita) x2

Ohohoho, you fool, you fucker. You thought you bought upside down catfish, didn't you? Well, now I'm gonna get a foot long and poop a lot and suck the slime coat off your expensive fish and kill them and look so sillycute while doing it. AND I won't even swim upside down. Will be banished to local fish store rehoming tank to be sold under the correct name this time.

Snails (Various sp.) x999999999

I've got Malaysian Trumpet Snails (intentional), Nerites (intentional), Ramshorns (unwanted hitchhikers), and Bladder Snails (unwanted hitchhikers).

Plants

Jungle Val (Vallisneria americana)

AKA Eelgrass. Not technically African but it was cheaper than the African-native Corkscrew Val.

Narrow Crinum (Crinum calamistratum)

AKA African Onion Plant. Slow growing and small so far but looks cool fully grown.

African Water Fern (Bolbitus heudelotii)

AKA Congo Fern. Really sickly and shitty from PetSmart but should improve.

Cameroon Moss (Plagiochilaceae sp.)

Really pretty moss I attached to some driftwood in small bunches, should grow in soon enough.

Anubias (Anubias heterophylla, Anubias barteri)

Probably the most well-known African aquatic plant besides lucky bamboo, you'll find this in a TON of fish tanks.

Tiger Lotus (Nymphaea zenkeri)

Still just a wee baby, eventually this'll grow into some rockin' red lily pads.

Ammania (Ammannia gracilis)

Beautiful stem plant with red-tipped leaves. Lovely pop of color.

Duckweed (Lemna minor)

Fuck this guy kill this guy. Duckweed hell one million years forever!!!!!!!!!!

Tank Setup

75 Gallon (idk brand) I believe dimensions are 48x18x21

Fluval 407 Canister filter w/ spray bar

Secondary sponge filter with air pump rated for up to 100gal

Tertiary filter running water softener pillow and establishing spare biomedia

Substrate is pea gravel and Black Diamond Blasting Sand, coarse grit.

Wood is California driftwood/ghost wood iirc, got it at a reptile expo.

Light is Finnex Planted+ 24/7 (I just leave it on auto mode)

Heaters are 3 preset tetra 100W heaters. Nothing fancy.

There's caves made out of PVC piping covered with pond foam.

That bag you see is weighing the driftwood down since it's a little new, it still wants to float.

Leaf litter is mostly oak and live oak and a bit of catappa.

This shit all cost me way more than was reasonable at all jesus christ it was pricy but it's so worth it.

[morgana-ren]

45 and 60 for the shiggy ask list?

Nice. Fuckin' nice. Warnings for, of course: Masturbation, spanking, noncon, dubcon, implied nastiness, him being a fuckin’ degenerate, slut-shaming, and general incel-ish behavior.

Wet dreams are an obnoxious, awkward sort of burden to carry no matter how many hands you have. 

He’s perfectly content with a dreamless sleep, and he’s since long come to terms with the nightmares that plague his subconscious on the off nights. Shiftless, empty voids mired by shrill screams from a voice he can’t recognize; Visceral, grainy-red misery he can’t wade through, slogging endlessly onward toward nothing. Eternal, burdensome fog that sits thick in the air of his unconscious until he wakes. It was bothersome as a child, but it brings a strange comfort now. Like a heavy, weighted blanket that keeps him anchored to his goal.

Wet dreams on the other hand? Those bring nothing but problems. 

It sits awkwardly on his mind as his eyes flicker open, greeted with a dark ceiling and an even darker room, only the light of his monitor casting shadows around the walls. There’s a cramped pain in his crotch that shakes his mind back into consciousness, head of his cock pressing painfully against the jagged teeth of his zipper. A quick, half-awake glance at the clock reads the early morning hours- Too early. He’d retired prematurely the night before, thanks to unforeseen circumstances.

Whatever it was he was dreaming about, it slips quickly through his fingers as his brain ignites once more, but he has an inkling as to the culprit. 

Most times, he’d welcome an unsuspecting girl leaning so far over the tap that he gets a nice, long, free peek at the goods, but not when it’s you. He works with you, and that’s a line he’s not eager to cross. That complicates things, and as he counts it, life is complicated enough as it stands. Start lusting after your underlings and you’re inviting a litany of problems, and he doesn’t need any more of those. 

But he’s a man; A man with neglected needs, and you’re foolish enough rest your chest against the counter of his bar with your elbows pushing your tits together into nice, thick, creamy globes- right in front of him, no less- only inches from his nose and it takes every ounce of discipline in his degenerate mind to keep him from burying his face right between them.

It was easy to ignore for one, two, maybe three minutes, but that’s when things got a little rough. 

After that point, he wasn’t responsible for where his mind went, and that’s the precise moment when he realized he might’ve had a little too much to drink to be in this position.

He’d kicked off the stool and stalked off without another word to anyone, resolving to confine himself to the murky solitude of his room until his mind opted to behave. Punishing himself like a naughty dog caught drooling over someone else’s fat, juicy steak.  By the time he’d shut his door, his erection was already painful, throbbing and straining against his thigh, but he refused to reward this kind of behavior from his brain. 

‘She’s a teammate, dammit. Knock it off.’

As if scolding his libido has ever worked. 

He goes to bed without satisfying himself, but can’t help humping into his mattress as his drifting mind wanders further and further from control and further still from alert consciousness. Without his iron will there to curb his impulses, he was lulled into his lustful dreamsphere, mind swimming with visions of you; Less dressed, infinitely more slutty versions of you with knees rubbed raw, kiss-swollen lips and wrists shackled to his bed- not that there’s anywhere you’d rather be, that sly little voice tells him.  He doesn’t recall the specifics, but apparently his cock does. Skin pulled taught over his aching prick, tip flushed a furious shade of red, leaking viscous, pearlescent fluid that wets through the fibers of his jeans. It thrums, pulsing with each beat of his heart behind his ribs, demanding his attention. 

“Fuck- quickly then.” He seethes, more annoyed than aroused, loathing the thought of being jerked around by his own body. Yet he knows himself well enough to understand that if he doesn’t quell the urge, it will linger on in his mind until he deals with it, so it’s better to bite the bullet and swallow his pride lest it gluttonously feed into itself like a lustful ouroboros and become a problem. 

Fingers shove beneath the waistband of his jeans, the others hastily unbuttoning the silver teardrop link just beneath his navel. Fishing his cock out is the easy part; it’s everything that comes afterward that’s troublesome. 

He thinks of his basics. Of lewd hentai and girlish squeals, of wide, plush thighs and coy smiles. Sensual fingers beckoning him, throaty voices begging him to do as he will with their pliant bodies. Open mouths and pretty, ivory teeth, tremoring bodies and sweat and- He fucks them. He fucks them- no, he fucks his fist. He fucks his fist and fucks their gooey insides, fucks his fist and- it’s just not enough. He imagines their drooling mouths taking his cock, cooing praises- The climax builds, tension building to a terrible, tensing peak and then falling back down again into frustration. Teeth gritting in anger, muscles prickling and tightening in his forearm. 

It’s not doing it. He can’t cum. He gets close and it peters out back down into nothing but a slight twitch and low drawls of pleasure. No matter how he strokes, how tightly his fingers grip his shaft, he can’t make himself cum.

Fingers furled around his cock, he tries for longer than he really cares to admit. Hips stuttering up to meet his hand, broken gasps rapidly twisting into drawn out grunts of irritation. Boredom rapidly replacing any sense of incentive to continue touching himself. Offhanded strokes and daydreaming lead him no where.

He can’t cum. 

Until he thinks of your tits bulging through your shirt against his counter, your pretty smile as you flaunt it all in front of him. What you might look like pushing your slutty little body against him, mewling and begging for him to touch you because only his fat cock can satisfy you and you’ll do anything to have it. 

A throb against his palm. Pleasure veining through his body as he rolls his hips against his moist grip. Enough to draw a groan. 

She’s a teammate. Control yourself... 

After this. 

He thinks of your bouncing tits, bare and glistening, puckering underneath his touch as he rolls and twists a nipple between his fingers. Wide, bleary eyes and deceptive little kitten licks on the tip of his cock until he shoves you down and your silken throat strangles him to completion- his copious cum splashing across your open mouth, your fluttering eyelashes, marking you with his seed across your eager face. Nails digging into your waist, maneuvering you over the counter and kicking your legs apart, burying himself in your clenched cunt as you drool like a fucked out whore, begging your boss to stretch you wide. Wiggling your bare ass against him, teeth and bruises imbedding into your skin, crying for him to fuck you open as his cum still tacks across your cheeks like the nasty little slut you are-

He’s so close, close enough he can feel the heat in the crevasses of his fingers, but the knock on his door jars him, sending him careening back into reality even as his dick pulses in his hand. Muscles tense, frozen like a deer in headlights. His mind still drowned in desire, the end so close he can taste it. 

No response. Another knock. This one harder. 

The bar wasn’t built for privacy in mind, and his room is held together with plywood and ill-fitting hinges. Most people are smart enough to leave him alone and not touch his door in general, but not you, huh? Your second hollow knock budges the latch and the door creaks open in one fatal moment. 

He’s met with your shocked face and widened eyes, both glowing eerily pallid in the light of his computer monitor. Your attention focuses, first on his face, shifting to his swollen cock clutched between his slender fingers, and after another moment, back to his face. 

“Shigaraki-” is all you can manage, weak and pathetic, hands raising in defense to shield your vision and hide the painful embarrassment written plainly across your face. “-Sorry- Sorry- Fuck, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean-” Red handed is one word for it, but so is opportunistic.

“Get in here and shut the door.”

You don’t think twice about your boss’s command, following his orders without question out of impulse despite the awkwardness. Word vomit spills from your lips, trying to justify and separate yourself from the situation in the same breath. 

“I’m sorry- sorry! You seemed mad when you left and I didn’t want to leave it- I thought you were mad at me- I didn’t want-” “To disappoint me?” 

“Y-yeah- I thought-” Your eyes drift toward the ceiling, trying to keep away from the proverbial elephant in the room- the pale cock cradled in his hand. “I’m sorry! I just thought-” 

“What did you think?” 

“I thought I said something that made you mad or something! You kept looking at me like-” Your voice cracks, perhaps in recognition, but you ignore that too. “Like you were disgusted-” 

His control shatters with the vulnerability on your face, lust tidalwaves over reason, burying any semblance of order he had beneath a landfill of repression. All he wants now is to see you the way he does in his head: Begging and crying and screaming his name. 

This will have consequences, but he doesn’t really fucking care right now. 

He lurches forward, four fingers swirling in the fabric of your shirt as he jerks you forward. “I was disgusted.” You fall across him with a startled shriek, awkwardly splayed across his legs and the upper portion of his bed. He’s quick to readjust you, dragging you back into his lap with his naked, palpitating cock pressed flush against your chest separated only by a thin layer of fabric. One hand threads through your hair, stroking your scalp with his nails before clutching down. “Flashing your slutty tits in my face all night.” Trying to scrounge away from him is fruitless, clawing at his bare mattress with your nails and trying to kick your way out of his grip, but he puts a quick stop to it. A few harsh tugs on your hair and you settle down like a good girl, whimpering and shaking in a way arouses him more than he thought possible at the moment.  “I didn’t- I didn’t mean to-”  “I didn’t mean to-” He mocks, raising his voice in a cruel mimicry of yours. “Shut the hell up. You know exactly what you’re doing. You’re writing checks you can’t cash, and someone needs to teach you a lesson.”  His hand catches on the back of your thigh, slowly snaking upward until- to your utter mortification- he pushes the hem of your skirt up to your waist, jiggling at the fat of your ass with his palm. Your miserable bleating does little to deter him from fingering at the strap of your thong, admiring the lace before pulling the band back with the crook of his finger and letting the elastic snap against your skin.

“Tomura!-”  “Be quiet. You can speak when I tell you that you can speak. In fact-” He pulls your underwear down to your taut thighs with a harsh yank. “-you’re going to count it out for me, and when I’m done, you’re going to thank me, aren’t you?” 

The little fire of defiance dies in your belly is swiftly snuffed out when, through the corner of your eye, you catch him leering at your exposed ass, face dusted a ruddy pink and pupils dilated in a way that leaves him looking more monster than man. 

“You’re going to count it for me, yeah? Understand?”  “Count out what?” 

You stammer and trip over your words, wide eyes bleary, and God he loves it when you play dumb. You’re sharp as a tack and swift as a whip, and there’s not a doubt in his mind that you know exactly where this is going, but you’ll play the bimbo because you’re holding out hope that taking advantage of you is too far, that even villains have a sense of comradery and he’s your boss and has a sense of shame.  All incorrect assumptions. 

He brings his hand up, only to immediately plumb it back down again on the curve of your ass with the resounding smack of flesh on flesh. The skin ripples as he makes contact, and you yowl something fierce as the pain blooms through your bottom- half startled, half humiliated.  “One-” The fingers looped through your hair clench and remind you of what exactly that he expects, words hanging thick as he expects acquiescence and your full participation. He’s not known for his patience.  “O-one.” 

“Good girl.” 

His hand raises again and your eyes clench shut in anticipation of the blow. It doesn’t help.  “Two.” 

“Two-!“

Three- four- five- His hand lands firmly on your backside, each one forcing you to lurch forward. It’s degrading and sick, stomach twisting against his thighs as you desperately try to keep your breathing even despite your constricted belly. You don’t dare to attack him back- you’ve seen what he does to people who piss him off. You didn’t think he was capable of this kind of treatment- not to his friends and allies- but apparently he’s full of malevolent surprises and you’re learning that the hard way.

Six- Seven- Eight- Eyes begin tearing up around the seventh smack, trying to worm away from him only to be firmly held in place. It only stung at first, but repeated abuse to the same area has left it sore and tender because his spanks are far too rough to be playful. Strangled croaks of the numbers he expects from you turn into urgent cries, sobbing openly into his lap as he occasionally rolls his erection against your knee-squished tits.

“Nine.” 

“N-n-nine-” You are sniveling like a baby by this point. It hurts, it hurts, and you want- no- need him to stop. You’re not sure if it’s the utter humiliation or the localized and repeated pain, but nausea is curling something fierce in your gut, tickling at your esophagus with every thwack of his palm against you.

“Ten.”

There’s no sweet little precursor this time. His hand comes down with unprecedented force- too much- hitting the exact same spot for the tenth time but with enough cruelty behind it to break what little dignity you’d had left. You wail openly at the pain, blubbering and pleading for him to stop, please, you can’t take it anymore, you can’t-

He shushes you, deceptively tender as he rubs his fingers across the marred skin, early onset bruises blooming in the abstract shape of his hand. It pleases him to see it, knows it’ll please him even more every time he watches you struggle to sit because you’ve got your leader’s handprint practically engraved on the fat of your ass for the foreseeable future.

“You did well.” Untangling his fingers from your matted hair, he pats at your head in a condescending matter, soothing you in a way that isn’t entirely genuine. That becomes painfully obvious when he grabs your tear-soaked chin and arches your face to meet his in an unnatural angle, displeasure evident across his face.

“Except you forgot ten.”

You expect him to hit you again, but he doesn’t. The hand patting at your marred skin slinks down between your thighs, teasing between your folds and circling your entrance. The hiccups and bubbling sobs cease long enough for you to squeak at his invasive probing, wiggling your hips as he slips a finger inside your damp heat. He oscillates it, first to the knuckle, but then down as far as he can, pumping in and out of you a few times before adding a second finger to the mix. 

This shouldn’t feel good. The searing tingle and clenching between your thighs is entirely unwelcome as his wandering fingers curl upward towards you bellybutton and pad at the spongy, raised flesh nestled deep in your cunt. The juxtaposition of the hideous ache from where he’d spanked you ruthlessly and the pleasure that crests as he finger-fucks you is almost too much, bordering on maddening stimulation as he adds this thumb to the mix, drawing teasing circles around the little bud.

“A-ahha-Tom-Tomura!” 

“What is it, slut? Use your words-” He drums his fingers into you harder, pressing the tip of his thumb down harder on your clit as he swirls it counter-clockwise. “Are you getting wet for me? Starting to enjoy this now that your punishment is over?” 

After a few more moments, he drawls out his fingers, putting emphasis on the obscene squelching. He withdraws his hand eventually, inspecting the gossamer slick that webs his fingers, scissoring it back and forth before dropping them in front of your face. 

“That’s all you, you needy little whore. All your whinging and crying but your sloppy cunt is aching for me, isn’t it?” 

Wiping your wetness on the purpling bruises, he promptly pushes you off of his lap and lets your body roll onto the floor, standing to loom above you with his cock bobbing just above the waist of his bunched jeans. In one swift movement, he’s got you by the hair again, pulling you up onto your knees just in front of him.

Your whimpering garners no sympathy from him, thighs worming and quim still clenching even as you fear for what’s about to happen. He’s already pushed past the limit- what’s done is done. You were a good ally, but you’re a better whore. Who’s to say you can’t be both? 

He’s allowed to have his cake and feast on it too.

“I’ll give you what you want, but you’re going to earn it first.” Jerking your head back by your sore, throbbing scalp, he taps his leaking erection on the swell of your lower lip, smearing his pre-cum across your mouth. “After you’ve earned it, that is. Now show me that you’re thankful.” 

[wildroseofarran]

Nice to Meet You || Gralloway, Abel, & Guildias

MJ: Just another quiet March midnight. Not surprised in the least that Peter left his window open. Just as he used to. Did he ever change? The Ravnos was less than graceful crawling through the small space and spilling onto the dining room floor.

He'd missed his usual intrusions. They'd been on his mind since crossing the state line days ago. The quaint little house on his mind talking to Callum, and Abel, and now giving his greetings to Midas. He'd missed this place.

Pete: Midas had been napping before sensing the new presence. He sat alert on top of his tree, ears perked for the tiniest sound.

But it wasn't a tiny sound. It was a big one. A familiar one.

He sniffed at the hand that reached out to him and, deeming the guest acceptable, positioned his head for pets.

His owner was nowhere in the immediate area, but an open back door indicated he was somewhere in the yard.

MJ: "Hey, lil king. Remember me? Tell me what I missed, hmm?" One more scritch, positioning himself for eye contact, open to any and all the little creature had to say. Actually seeing Peter could wait. Best to go forward with something.

Pete: 'I remember you. I've heard your name but haven't seen your face. Your scent is on the bed.'

MJ: "On the bed, huh? He don't clean his sheets?"

Pete: 'On the bed. Only his scent is in the bed.'

MJ: "Show me?"

Pete: Midas treated himself to a full, luxurious stretch before leaping down from his perch and leading the vampire up the stairs.

MJ would be able to see small changes to the house. Fresh paint, new plants, some new photos. Stickers on one of the bedroom doors signaled the presence of a child at some point.

The door to Pete's bedroom had been pulled even with the frame but not shut completely, allowing Midas to nudge it open.

What he'd meant would be plainly obvious:

Blue glass roses sat on Pete's beside table, and in the middle of the pillows on the bed, a stuffed pink elephant.

MJ: MJ paused in the doorway, still absorbing the short journey to the bedroom, only to be met with nostalgia, and a twinge of painful memory. Not so discomforting. Not as it used to be. Not with this new blended soul. There was now a fondness to that pink elephant. What a day that had been.

"I see what you mean now." He tapped at the foot of the bed, invitation to his host before doing a flop onto the mattress.

Pete: Midas jumped up, making himself comfortable not on the bed, but on MJ's abdomen.

'Your scent on the bed. His scent in the bed.'

MJ: "And now your scent on me. How 'bout that?"

Pete: Midas watched the vampire intently. 'Did you come for sadness?'

MJ: "Did I come for what?"

Pete: 'Did you come to make him sad?'

MJ: "Is that all I do?"

Pete: 'He's been too sad for too long. It was all he knew for a time.'

MJ: "You're a very mature kitten."

Pete: 'Cats are wise.'

MJ: "So ya know you're a cat."

Pete: 'That's what he says.'

MJ: "He says that ya know you're a cat?"

Pete: ‘He says cats are wise.’

MJ: "I'd say you're more sentient than most. What's your secret?"

Pete: 'He talks to me.'

MJ: "That's all it takes, huh?" How about some scritches under the chin?

Pete: Midas closed his eyes and purred.

MJ: "When was the last time ya had a big juicy piece of fish? Hmm? Ya deserve some."

Pete: "I don't know. A very long time."

Really it had only been a couple of weeks, but time meant nothing to a cat.

MJ: "Let's go get ya some, then."

MJ sat up and tapped at his shoulder. "Ya get t'go for a ride."

Pete: Midas climbed onto the vampire's shoulder and perched himself like a parrot with ease. He'd done this before.

'Where are we going?'

MJ: "T'the kitchen. We're gonna sneak ya some food."

Pete: 'He'll be able to scent you. He'll know you're here.'

MJ: "Oh yeah? His nose that good now?"

Pete: 'Bears have a strong sense of smell.'

MJ: "He a good bear?"

Pete: 'He guards the river and plants roses on the bank.'

MJ: "I've seen those," he said, a kind of faraway whimsy in his tone.

The fridge was opened for inspection. He made no effort to be quiet.

Pete: 'They have magic. He plants them for you.'

The fridge showed signs of being recently stocked. The containers were full and some had yet to be opened. The produce was fresh, as were the leftovers.

'My food is in the place with the red top.'

MJ: "I get conflicting answers. Can you see color?"

Pete: 'Yes, though not as much as a human.'

MJ: "Are you a familiar?"

Pete: 'I don't have magic.'

MJ: He had his suspicions. He'd never heard an animal speak so eloquently. Most rats had the translatable vocabulary of a child. He wondered if that was because they had been wild. Miss Swiss had been special. Oh well.

"Here, some salmon."

Pete: Midas chirped in approval. However eloquent, he was still a cat.

Meanwhile, outside, Pete had abruptly stopped in the middle of his prayers and was facing his house, frozen in place.

Hearing any sort of movement coming from inside would've been alarming on its own, but he could detect a hint of something--someone--in the breeze that was making his heart thunder in his chest.

Slowly, he stood.

MJ: The salmon was cut into strips on the cutting board. Some things didn't change. He still knew his way around the kitchen like the back of his hand. A single slice was then cut into cubes. A tiny portion given to his shoulder guest. He was aware of Peter's scent, aware this would come to a head, but calm just the same.

Pete: Pete didn't entirely know what he was going to find as he stepped inside. Would MJ just be sitting there? Would he be poking around? Would he be angry? Would the other man be there?

....No. None of those.

MJ was standing in his kitchen chopping--was that salmon?--for his cat.

"....MJ?"

MJ: A hundred comebacks. Jokes, greetings, offhanded remarks. A smile, a stutter, a loss of all senses. Anything, something. What MJ managed was staring. Staring, and allowing Midas to lick his fingers. He must have been the odd sight.

"I stole your fish," was what he landed on.

Pete: It was a night for the unexpected and Pete's mind was completely blank.

"Yes you did. Midas talk you into it?"

MJ: "Think I talked him into it."

Pete: "I doubt he needed much talking. He loves salmon."

Pete dared to step closer. The last time he'd seen MJ was in a dream. He'd woken with his arms aching from how much he longed to hold his vampire. Now here he was, feeding salmon to his cat.

"Is this another dream?"

MJ: "Are you awake?" Another cube of salmon for Midas. A parting gift before placing him on the floor.

Pete: "Pretty sure."

Midas rubbed against Pete's leg on his way back to his tree. It was time for a nap.

MJ: "Then you're not dreamin'." MJ looked to the salmon and back. "What was this supposed t'be?"

Pete: "Oh, uh...I'm not really sure. I didn't have a specific plan for it." Just like he didn't have a specific plan for this situation.

MJ: "No idea? Guess it's...sashimi now."

Pete: "Guess so," he said with a small smile. "How've you been?"

MJ: "I've been shitty, then kinda okay, then just been, then shitty, then better. You?"

Pete: "Sounds like a hell of a rollercoaster. I've just...been. Couple of bumps, but I think I'm no worse for wear."

MJ: "Kay, then." What to do now?

Pete: Pete took a deep breath. "I found a suit of armor."

MJ: For some reason, tension returned to his shoulders.

"Yeah? From where?"

Pete: "Theater department at the community college. And I found a white horse."

MJ: "Say what now?"

Pete: "Friend of a coworker of Ryan's. My brother-in-law."

MJ: "Ya got someone?"

Pete: "Yeah, the guy--Jacob--owns a dude ranch and he said he would let me borrow it in exchange for free beer."

MJ: "I... got no clue what we're talkin' 'bout now."

Pete: "I promised that I would do everything I could to win you back, starting with putting on a suit of armor and riding up on a white horse."

MJ: "And ya just said you're with someone n'somethin' about a theater. Look... I dunno what I expected comin' here, but we... we gotta talk plainly."

Pete: Pete's brow furrowed. "I--what? I'm not with anyone. Jacob is Ryan's coworker's friend who's letting me borrow his horse."

MJ: "Peter, ya got this... idea in your head or somethin' and I got no clue how ya have it anymore."

Pete: "You--you don't remember the dream?"

MJ: "Somewhat, but a lot of shit happened after."

Pete: "Stuff that's changed how you felt...?" Pete's voice had gotten progressively quieter and more deflated with each passing moment.

MJ: "I don't get what you're hangin' on to. What made any of this -"

Better restart. He hauled himself onto the counter. Arms on his knees.

"She's gone. MJ's gone."

Pete: "I'm hanging on to you. I'm hanging on to the love I have for you." The small bubble of hope that had lived in his chest since the night he'd had that dream threatened to burst. It had felt so real. MJ had felt so real. But maybe it had only felt real--been real--for him. Maybe--

Pete stilled. Stared. ".....What? What do you mean MJ's gone? You're MJ. I'm looking at you. Aren't I?"

MJ: "Sort of but no. That answer only works in this reality, I think? The one where two things become one thing. Then it's just a sort of but no."

Pete: It was only by the grace of knowing Guildias that any of that made sense.

"So you--you melded. She's gone because she's not her anymore, she's part of you now."

MJ: "You're good at this. Seasoned pro. S'like ya got some druid friend or somethin'." A small smile.

Pete: Pete returned the smile, but there was no denying the knot that had formed in his stomach. He would've given anything to be able to tear that horrible woman away from the man he loved, or better, to have gone back in time and stopped the soul eating from happening in the first place.

"How much of you is you?"

MJ: "That's what everyone asks me. That means so much, don't it? Is there a percentage you're lookin' for of the old guy?"

Pete: "We all change all the time. I'm not the same old guy, and even without having melded you wouldn't be either." He shrugged. "I just wanna know if there's any part of the you I know still in there somewhere."

MJ: "I wouldn't be here if there wasn't somethin'. I wanna know ya, who ya are like new. S'half of why I came from Cali."

Pete: "You really wanna get to know me again?"

MJ: "D'ya wanna know me?"

Pete: Pete nodded. "Yeah, I do."

MJ: "I wanna ask why."

Pete: "Earlier you asked what I was hanging on to, and I said I was hanging on to you. I am, MJ. I love you. I miss you. Not a day goes by that I don't think of you. I promised you in a dream that I would do whatever it took to make up for all the hurt I've caused you, to win you back, and even if you don't remember that dream like I do, I intend to keep that promise. I want to get to know you again. I want you to get to know me again."

MJ: "Look, I feel like..." No. He shook his head and tried again. "We gotta start from a place that ain't love. I dunno how else t'explain I'm not MJ...like...that, anymore. I don't feel the same 'bout shit. Like... I left. I left like shit. I wanted t'be by myself. I wanted t'deal with what happened in my own way. I came back after ya did shit with someone else. That's..." He shrugged. "It is what it is."

Pete: Pete fell into thoughtful silence. MJ was right, of course. He'd melded with Victoria; he wasn't the same person anymore. Not all of the same person anymore. He had her perspective now too. Her personality, her thought process, her gut feelings. As much as he looked the same and sounded the same, this was a different person standing in front of him, and he was kind of a different person to MJ too.

They had to start from a place that wasn't love.

After a few moments, Pete stuck his hand out. Not to hold, but to shake. "Hi. I'm Peter and I'm a werebear. Most people call me Pete. I speak French, do gladiator training, and I really love cats."

MJ: MJ waited and watched, quietly. He waited for Peter to say no; that he couldn't believe anything had changed. Some romantic gesture... but there was his hand. And he took it. And he smiled.

"I think I like Peter more, but that opens the door t'ya callin' me Mayhew. I'm a vampire. I do things like take your watch while talkin' t'ya."

Peter's watch was spun around his finger. "I really love rats."

Pete: He shook MJ's hand, looking momentarily stunned to see his watch on MJ's finger before laughing. So much better than a snake on the bar.

"It's nice to meet you, Mayhew. You can call me Peter. But I'd prefer calling you MJ. That fluffy spoiled boy over there is my son. He likes salmon and looking out the window. You've won his undying affection."

MJ: Better than he expected. He should have given Peter more credit. He smiled, offering back the watch.

"Think fluffers would eat my rats?"

Pete: Back it went on his wrist. "Nah. He got used to seeing rats and mice when we lived in France, he doesn't mind them. Now crickets? He will hunt a cricket to the ends of the earth."

MJ: "People eatin' rats still?"

Pete: "Just snails," he chuckled. "Rats and mice are just a part of farm life, fighting like hell to get into grain stores."

MJ: "Just doin' their thing. Them n'roaches'll be here 'til the end of time."

Pete: "Probably, yeah. Safe from the apocalypse and safe from Midas. Do you have a little pet rat right now?"

MJ: "I got one in Cali. Gonna get another for the road."

Pete: "There's a new pet shop in town. They have all sorts of little animals. Ferrets, lizards, mice, rats."

MJ: "They open late?"

Pete: "Later than most places around here."

MJ: "Ya wantin' somethin' else?"

Pete: "Yeah, but not for me. Been wanting to get a pet for Luke."

MJ: "Get him a... mouse."

Pete: “They have such short little lives. He’s in a bad way, I’d hate for him to lose someone else he loves.”

MJ: "Then get him a bird. A parrot."

Pete: “Huh. That’s not a bad idea. They live like sixty years, don’t they?”

MJ: "Gotta put em in your will. My aunt had one. Outlived her."

Pete: "Our nephew can inherit his. Or our niece."

MJ: "Now you're thinkin'."

Pete: "Parrot it is. He can teach it lawyer speak."

MJ: "N'I'll teach it t'cuss."

Pete: "Perfect. This is gonna be such a well-spoken parrot."

MJ: "'Twenty t'life, fucker!'" he laughed.

Pete: Pete laughed and shook his head. "I'm excited for this bird and I don't even know what kind I'm getting him."

MJ: "He still in the city?"

Pete: "For now, yeah. There's a good chance he'll be moving back here."

MJ: "What the hell for?"

Pete: “He’s had a rough couple years. Living alone has taken a toll.”

MJ: "Think it'd be the other way around."

Pete: “He was fine living in Raleigh until his boyfriend died. That changed things.”

MJ: "They livin' together?"

Pete: Pete shook his head. "No, boyfriend was living here. But I think the fact that they never found his body or any real answers is messing with his head. He never got any closure." He had yet to determine if the haunting counted as closure.

MJ: He thought of Kenna, and what she would want in that circumstance.

"He gonna be livin' here?"

Pete: “Either here or with our parents. Maybe with his best friend. She was the boyfriend’s sister and she’s been having a rough time too.”

MJ: "That's the thing 'bout death. Only fucks with the ones still livin'."

Pete: “Yeah,” he sighed. “I hope being back here helps. At the very least he won’t have to come home to an empty condo.”

MJ: "I guess. If that helps."

Pete: "It won't magically solve everything but it's a good start." Kind of like this situation with them, he supposed.

MJ: Well, enough about a brother he barley knew or even saw.

"What d'ya wanna do now?"

Pete: "Wanna take Midas for a walk with me?"

MJ: "He's a cat."

Pete: "Yep. A leash trained cat who likes to go on walks."

MJ: "You're a weird one, Peter."

Pete: He smiled. "It's been said before. So what do you say?"

MJ: "I know I'm an animal lover n'all, but that's... yeah. No," he laughed.

Pete: Pete chuckled and looked over at Midas, who was busy grooming himself. "If you hadn't given him salmon he'd probably be very offended. Wanna go for a walk with just me?"

MJ: "Ya not bothered by a night walk?"

Pete: "I'm a Fera. The night and I are good friends."

MJ: "Get your keys, then."

Pete: "All right. Here, floof." He arranged the salmon in Midas' dish and grabbed him from his tree. "Dinner. Don't do anything weird while we're gone and don't think you're getting the good life tomorrow."

Now for keys and his jacket.

MJ: "Good life is only once a week," he nodded, totally serious but absolutely not. This all felt... surreal, and he wondered if Peter felt the same.

Pete: It was enough to make Pete chuckle. He was in the exact same boat as MJ; this all felt like another dream. He was getting ready to go on a walk with a newly melded vampire he'd once dated and had just agreed to get to know again. What could be more surreal?

"Okay," he said once they were outside. "Left or right?"

MJ: "Ummm..." MJ twisted his finger, as though the decision was too difficult, he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Which way has the dive bar? That ugly buildin' with the black door?"

Pete: "O'Charlie's? This way." He led them to the left. "You're in for a real treat. Dwight talked Charlie into steam cleaning the carpet last month."

MJ: A gasp. "But smelly floor is half of what makes a dive bar a dive bar!"

Pete: "Give it a week or two, it'll be right back where it was. The tables are still vaguely sticky I'm told."

MJ: "That's comfortin'." At least to MJ, now and before.

Pete: "Charlie is his same old self. Lately the conspiracy mood has been MK Ultra."

MJ: "S'been what now?"

Pete: "MK Ultra. Basically, back in the 50s and 60s the CIA was pumping people full of LSD to study mind control. And unlike most things, this one isn't in Charlie's head. It was declassified."

MJ: "Is anything surprisin' anymore? Anything after the Spanish Inquisition?"

Pete: "Not really, but sometimes something comes along that throws you for a loop."

MJ: "I think I'm done with surprises."

Pete: "You're preaching to the choir. I'll be good if I don't have to deal with another surprise again in my life."

MJ: "Well, I mean, bein' a bear... bad surprise?"

Pete: "Jury's still out on whether the end result is bad, but the process sure was."

MJ: "Does it hurt? Changin'?"

Pete: "Less so now. The first time was horrible. I was sick for days and days leading up to the full moon."

MJ: "D'ya feel everything? D'ya remember how it feels?"

Pete: Pete nodded. "Yep. It's--feeling your bones and body parts move around and reform is the weirdest damn feeling. Painful too but the pain doesn't last."

MJ: "My teeth itch. That is a thing, n'it happens all the time."

Pete: "Oh, man." He tried to imagine the sensation and made a face. "Does it drive you crazy?"

MJ: "When I'm already hungry, yeah. Goes from a mild annoyance t'pissed off."

Pete: "Only your fangs or all your teeth?"

MJ: "Just fangs."

Pete: "I wonder if that's worse than having the itch be spread out to all your teeth." He took a second to check for cars and led them across the street.

"I had an itch too before my first full moon. Covered in hives, sweaty from the fever. Everyone thought I was dying."

MJ: "Ya didn't know shit 'fore it happened? Nothin' at all? Which parent is it?"

Pete: "Nope," he said with a shake of his head. "Stella and Luke aren't like me and neither is my mom, so it was probably the other guy."

MJ: "Feel for him. He probably don't know ya exist."

Pete: "He doesn't. My mom never told him and never plans to."

MJ: "Don't matter what she wants. What d'ya want?"

Pete: "I already have a dad. I have no inner turmoil or questions. I'm at peace."

MJ: "Really? That's what you're gonna go with?"

Pete: Pete shrugged. "It's the truth. I was curious for a while, thought about grilling my mom until she told me and going to confront the guy but at the end of the day, what would that accomplish? I already have my dad. I'm already a bear. Nothing would change and nothing would be added to my life."

MJ: "Ya'd have the man that made ya what ya are n'get answers ya might have 'bout your new life. Ya can't pretend nothin's changed. 'Sides, he's got a right t'know."

Pete: "A lot has, but not as much as you'd think. I'm a bear who didn't know he was a bear who was then taught to be a bear by Druids. If he has a right to know, shouldn't my mom be the one to tell him? For all I know he's got a whole life with no room for anyone else."

MJ: MJ shook his head. "You're his blood. What she shoulda done she didn't, so she don't get a fuckin' say. Ya don't get in the way of someone's bloodline like that."

Pete: “She did lots of things she shouldn’t have, and didn’t say anything when she should’ve. That’s how I ended up having a doctor tell me I’m not my dad’s biological son.”

MJ: "They even allowed t'do that?"

Pete: “He thought I knew. I tried to donate blood and mine didn’t match. He thought I was adopted.”

MJ: "Huh." That still didn't feel right, but whatever. Doctors were the last thing he expected to be ethical.

"You're not done. Havin' him would add somethin'. More than what some druid can teach. They aren't what he is."

Pete: “I just...” Pete sighed. “Is it horrible to say that I just don’t...care to have him in my life? Like you’d think I would feel a hole there or something missing but it doesn’t feel like there is. It would be nice to meet someone else that’s like me and that can help me make sense of it all but I would almost rather it be literally anyone else. He doesn’t represent something good for me and that’s not all his fault, I know that. But...I don’t know.”

MJ: "You're sayin' this, but it'll eat at ya. Like a needle prick right now, but it'll get bigger. Shit like that always does."

Pete: "Yeah, maybe. And maybe if it does, I'll feel differently. But for now, my life feels full and complete and peaceful. I'm gonna have a new baby niece soon. My business is doing great. We're getting to know each other again."

MJ: "Your life is always rosy, ain't it?" Or at least, that's what Peter wanted it to be, so that was what he projected. He couldn't tell. He never could. The man had seemed so different since his trip to Montana. Having to chase him down in order to speak with him, to spare him Victoria Harrak. For Callum to dismiss him. This all seemed so tainted and strange, and yet hopelessly normal.

Pete: "Not always," he said softly. "There's a lot that wasn't rosy for a long time and still isn't. There's a lot between us that's far from rosy."

MJ: "I dunno ya. We're brand new." He had to remember that, or let the past repeat itself.

Pete: “You’re right,” Pete said with a nod. “We are. Is there anything from the old us that you want to hash out? That the old you always wanted to hash out?”

MJ: Deep, wasted breath. Years now, and that was a can of worms. Not nearly as gnawing post merge, but still, those thoughts existed.

"How 'bout ya go first."

Pete: "Well." A sigh. "At this point I think it's no secret that the way you left wasn't the best way or even a good way and that it had a pretty severe effect on me. And on the flip side, the way I handled it wasn't the best, or even good either."

MJ: "How did ya handle it?"

Pete: "I betrayed your trust. I hurt you. I up and left without telling anyone where I was going. When you called me I hung up on you. I didn't step in when Callum banished you."

MJ: "We were done when I left. Everything else was just me bein' selfish, so there's that. Ya did up n'leave like a dick nozzle. What happened in the woods... happened, n'it wasn't your fault. I shoulda left ya alone."

Pete: "But you weren't just being selfish. You left but there was a relationship between us, at least for me. There was trust and love and rather than make a clean break, I cheated on you and betrayed all that. It wasn't just you being selfish, you had and have every right in the world to be upset and angry at me. I would completely understand if after what I did you never wanted to see me again. And in a lot of ways, that's why a big part of me believed that I deserved what happened in the woods that night."

MJ: "Well, ya didn't, so shut up about that. Don't be a broken record. N'ya know, ya shoulda given him a try. Like, for real. If ya wanna fuck someone else, ya should be with em, otherwise ya...ya wouldn't have t'start with."

He wondered if that logic applied to him in some measure. Brett Parker, Rohan Dalca... Rohan certainly deserved better, and that was part of the reason he left. A clean slate between both men had been the purpose of the trip. To reacquaint with fresh eyes.

Pete: Another sigh. "I had feelings for him for a big part of my life. The dynamic between us wasn't great even when we were younger and a lot of different things contributed to that, it wasn't all on me or all on him. For the part that was on me, well...I have a long, long history of not dealing with things the way I should. Maybe it was never in the cards or maybe it had been at some point and never came to be.

"But then I met you. And from the moment I met you, you got under my skin and you never really left it. You were under my skin when you were making snakes appear on my bar and when you won me a stuffed elephant at a carnival and when I was in Montana and when you left and when I left."

MJ: "Is that love, though, or is that just... obsession? I dunno either, so it's more just..." His fingers flew up. Something in the ether. Just rhetorical questions that maybe they could answer.

Pete: Pete shrugged. "I don't know. I just know that I care about you. That I want you to be happy. This new person you are? I want to get to know this person. I want to learn this person, independently of anything else."

MJ: "You're still walkin' with me, thinkin' about love. This ain't gonna work if you're just thinkin' that."

Pete: "I'm not though, that's the thing. I like talking to you. This you, not just the old you. I'm already seeing the distinction between the person I knew and the person you are now."

MJ: "Yeah? What's that?"

Pete: "I'm not really sure, it's like...I don't know if the old you would've been okay with saying as much as you're saying? Or not even that, just being okay with saying what you feel and what's on your mind. Which I want you to be able to do."

MJ: "Hmm." MJ shrugged. What was now a collective mind could not notice what had always existed for itself. Surprised to hear about any changes.

"The other me was pissed n'selfish n'panicked. It is what it is."

Pete: "Do you miss yourself at all? However new this is for everyone you know, I imagine it's even moreso for you."

MJ: A thought considered for less than thirty seconds. "No. I don't miss anything. That bother ya?"

Pete: Pete shook his head. "No, just curious. Trying to imagine what it would be like to not completely be me anymore."

MJ: "You can't miss it. I don't think, because there's... nothin' to miss?" A sigh escaped him, needless, but worthy of expression. "I'll never be able t'explain this."

Pete: "Makes sense in a way, at least to my limited understanding. You can't miss you if you're still you."

MJ: "...Yeah. Somethin' like that. I have his memories. I got...some of her. I woke up feelin' reborn but like I always was...but...how two always were."

Pete: "And the people you've been living with? They've been helpful and supportive?"

MJ: "Well... some kickin' n'screamin' along the way."

Pete: "From them or you?"

MJ: "A bit of both. Had t'be chased down n'my RV invaded t'get t'this point."

Pete: Pete blinked. "Seriously? Jesus. That sounds...intense."

MJ: "Ya know what I do. I run."

Pete: "Sounds like they didn't let you."

MJ: "Nope. Damn stubborn like that."

Pete: "Speaking of stubborn." He nodded up ahead, where the bar had come into view. "We've arrived at Charlie's kingdom."

MJ: MJ threw his arms wide. "The only king I'll kneel to!"

Pete: Pete chuckled and held the door open for MJ. "Don't tell him that, he'll get a swelled head." If such a thing was even possible when one's kingdom was a sketchy bar with a sticky floor.

MJ: "I wanna see that now. Especially with havin' ya in his bar."

Pete/Charlie: "He's gotten used to having me here the past few weeks. Ain't that right, Charlie?" he added in a shout to the man himself.

Charlie saluted him with his cigarette, fully intending to go back to his newspaper when he spotted MJ.

"Well, shit," he laughed. "Look what the cat dragged in!"

MJ: "That there cancer stick is illegal in these parts, stranger! The fuck ya doin'?" A greeting for all intents and purposes. His hand came swinging over the counter for a grasping hand.

Charlie: The hand was shaken with vigor. "Bah, it ain't a real cancer stick! It's got menthol in. Refined, that's what that is. How the hell are ya, kid? What we do to be graced with your presence?"

MJ: "I've been t'Mordor n'back t'the Shire. Just needed t'go on an adventure. Ya know, that thing ya should do."

Peter was given a wink.

Pete/Charlie: Pete just smiled and ordered a beer from Dwight while Charlie belly laughed.

"Who says I don't go adventurin'? I was over there at that booth 'bout ten minutes ago and now I'm here. There's your adventure."

MJ: "Was there a battle in between? Someone lose an eye?"

Charlie: "Hell yes there was. Almost tripped over Jose's long fuckin' legs."

MJ: "Shit. I've missed so much." MJ made himself at home near Peter, splayed over a seat in cat-like fashion.

Charlie: "Damn right you have. Goin' to Walmart ain't the same without ya."

MJ: "Florida mom still thirsty for ya?"

Charlie: Charlie snorted. "Boy howdy, you don't know the half of it. Past few months she's been tryin' to march me down the aisle."

MJ: "I wanna hear all about it. What are we drinkin', Peter?"

Pete/Charlie: "We're drinking Blue Moon and wondering why Charlie won't marry Ann."

"I'll tell ya why, Petey boy," Charlie said with a squint, gesturing with his cigarette. "She still believes in the lone gunman."

MJ: "Please, educate Peter," MJ laughed. He leaned towards the werebear with a grin. "Not a Coors? With an umbrella?"

Pete/Charlie: Fondness and humor lit Pete's expression as he made a dramatic face. It warmed him to know that MJ remembered. It gave him hope.

"Never ever. I'd rather take a nap on Charlie's carpet."

"Hey now! Don't go knockin' my carpet, Dwight cleaned it."

"Tell that to Jose, there's a sea of muddy footprints around his chair."

Charles looked over and scowled. "Dammit, Jose!"

MJ: The exchanged look between two grumpy old men was priceless. The vampire couldn't help but snort. Playing human wasn't all bad; expressive if anything.

"Ya need t'fuck off with the carpet, Charl. It's older than me."

Charlie: "Whole world is older than you, kiddo, you're still just a baby. Carpet's fine for this crowd. Hasn't been a crime scene on it or nothing since at least the 80s."

MJ: "Ya hear that? At least the 80s. S'all love at O'Charlie’s."

Pete/Charlie: Pete threw his head back and laughed. "Bullshit, remember that couple who used to live over by Tristan Seger's house? Wife came in and tried to shoot her husband's dick off, remember?"

"Ohhhh, yeah, my bad." Charlie nodded. "Hasn't been a crime scene since at least 2005."

MJ: "Ah. See, that was a lifetime ago. At least get a fresh one. There are some questionable stains. Can't blame em all on Jose."

Pete/Charlie: "MJ's right. I'm almost positive some of those stains are because of you and Ann."

Charlie laughed.

MJ: Another stretch. Eyes focused on the ceiling as he leaned back. A small crack, there. Another strange stain.

"Ya always drink orange beer?"

Pete: Pete shook his head. "Nah, not always. Sometimes I drink Guinness."

MJ: "Just drink t'relax?"

Pete: "Every now and then. If I'm feeling real fancy I'll have a glass of wine."

MJ: "But not anything else?"

Pete: “Relaxing wise or drinking wise?”

MJ: "Wino type shit."

Pete: Pete laughed. “What all falls under ‘wino type shit’?”

MJ: "Drink their sorrows away."

Pete: “Yeah, no. I’m not about the wino life.”

MJ: "Didn't think ya were. Had t'make sure."

Pete: He just smiled. “What about you? What do you do to relax?”

MJ: "Games. Practice vampy things. Learn from a dog." Convoluted as shit, with a shit-eating grin to boot.

Pete: "You--a dog?" Pete laughed. With that grin he couldn't tell if MJ was kidding or not. "Does the dog teach you how to dog?"

MJ: "The dog teaches me magic. I teach him how to shoot 360 no scope."

Pete: "So he's a magic dog...?"

MJ: "Heard of familiars?"

Pete: "I have," Pete said with a nod. "Is he yours?"

MJ: "Ha! Nah. Not mine, but I mean, sort of? He's a friend."

Pete: "Gotcha. Can vampires have familiars? Are there rules for familiars?"

MJ: "They pick ya, not the other way around."

Pete: Another nod. That made sense. "So I guess species doesn't matter then."

MJ: A shrug. "Have t'ask him. He's around somewhere."

Pete: "Oh, he came with you?"

MJ: "Mhm. You'll probably see him 'fore long."

Pete: "He exploring?"

MJ: "Yeah. Or scarin' lil kids in his devil costume." His brow wrinkled. "Or makin' em laugh? I dunno."

Pete: "Man, this just gets wilder and wilder."

MJ: "What's your life been like? More France?"

Pete: “Pretty quiet on my end. No trips to France recently. My sister’s pregnant and I’ve been helping her out with my nephew a lot so she can rest.”

MJ: "What's the husband doin'?"

Pete: "They put him on the night shift."

MJ: "The fuck is he doin'?"

Pete: "He took a second job as a security guard at the mall."

MJ: "Times that hard?"

Pete: “Babies are expensive.”

MJ: "Ain't just one good job out there?"

Pete: "I think his main job is pretty decent, but I guess a little extra money never hurt anyone."

MJ: That logic was reason he never saw his father. Not one he could approve of, but this was none of his business. Something in this thoughts questioned a father's role at all. A rare moment in his new life, knowing exactly which thoughts belonged to which former soul.

"So, tell me somethin' that ain't vague."

Pete: “Umm....” Pete sipped his beer and thought for a moment. “June talked me into starting a karaoke night at the pub every week.”

MJ: MJ bit into the inside of his cheek. A failed attempt at hiding his smile. "About you, flathead."

Pete: “I’m excited to meet my niece.”

MJ: "Were ya always a family man? Ya should settle down with a nice whoever n'adopt or make some babies."

Pete: Pete ignored the pang in chest that accompanied a little voice in his head that said he’d always dreamed of doing that with MJ.

Instead he said, “We’ve always been close, yeah. But my dad’s accident brought us that much closer. Scares me how close I came to losing him.”

MJ: "Has it made everyone write a will? Hell, I think my family has that kinda thing, too. More like a keep what cha kill kinda shit, but still stands."

Pete: He nodded. "Yep. Parents already had one but now we all do, too. We'll update them when the baby's born."

MJ: "'I give my seventy-inch TV to my brand new niece upon my death.'"

Pete: "I'll hand over the whole deed to her tiny hands."

MJ: "But who are ya really givin' it to?"

Pete: "If I ever have a kid, to them. If not, to the baby and Graham and Luke's kids if he has any."

MJ: "What, they all fight over it? Who the fuck gets it if ya drop dead right now?"

Pete: "Luke. And they won't have to fight. It'll be both of theirs, equally."

MJ: "Ya sure are generous, Peter."

Pete: He shrugged. "Can't take it with me, right? It's a good house. Only right that it should go to family. They can sell it or live in it or rent it if they want to."

MJ: "Generous is thinkin' ya can give one thing to this many fingers n'think it'll all work out."

Pete: "It's not just any fingers. Those fingers are being raised by two good, sensible, compassionate people. Call me an optimist."

MJ: "Alright, optimist, let's chug some beer I'll regret."

Pete: "Wanna regret some Blue Moon or would you rather regret another brand?"

MJ: "I'll regret the Blue Moon with ya." It would all return to sender before dawn; this was about time with Peter. Whatever this time meant.

Pete/Dwight: Pete nodded and glanced toward the other end of the bar. "Another round, Dwight, when you can?"

"For both of ya'll?"

"Yes, please."

"You got it."

MJ: "Don't 'yes please' the enemy," MJ snorted. "Bein' so nice t'the rival. How dare."

Pete/Charlie: His responding laugh sounded suspiciously like a giggle. Almost.

"Ah, come on. Dwight's a pal, he can have a please. Not Charlie though."

"I heard that."

MJ: That sure was a nice laugh. He remembered that laugh.

"We’re behind enemy lines. Can't make friends with Dwight except Christmas."

Pete/Dwight: "Well then, Dwight, I formally retract my please until Christmas," he said as the bartender brought over their beers.

Dwight just smiled in his subtle way. "Looking forward to it."

"Thanks though."

MJ: MJ stared. Dwight and their surroundings were faraway realities. Blatantly staring at those lips, trying to remember exactly what they tasted like. Wondering how warm Pete's skin felt now as Fera. Did they have a specific name? Did he know it?

Why did Peter love him so much? Or had. Still.

He wondered about Rohan, what he was doing right this moment. If Xavier was occupying his time.

His focus subconsciously fell to the table.

Pete: Pete could practically feel MJ's eyes boring into him, not that MJ seemed to be making much effort to hide it. Or any effort at all.

What was running through that newly melded mind of his? Was he thinking about their history? Their present situation? Something else entirely? Pete didn't dare ask.

"Rethinking regretting the beer?" he said instead, voice softer than he intended.

MJ: "I dunno what I like. I know I'll drink anything, but..." MJ laughed, fangs unashamedly present. "Thinkin' about parsnip wine."

Fingers tapped to his temple. He didn't have to explain why.

Pete: At the sight of those fangs, Pete cast a quick glance around to make sure Dwight and Charlie's attention was elsewhere. Thankfully they were both busy.

"There's such a thing as parsnip wine?" he chuckled.

MJ: Made it before. Two hundred and something years ago. "Mhm. More beer than wine." He could practically taste it. A first in this new life. Fucking interesting. He closed his eyes, allowed the memory to saturate his thoughts.

"A wagon, campfire. Cold knees. Sex. Wine on my tongue." And breasts. Someone beneath him. Where they belonged.

His eyes opened, his smile returning. "Blue Moon is better."

Pete: Pete squinted. One word stood out above all the rest. "A wagon? Like a covered wagon?" Had Victoria Harrak been a pioneer blowing people for whatever the hell parsnip wine was?

"I'm gonna go ahead and say that yes, it absolutely is." He smiled around a sip. "Everyone knows oranges are better than parsnips."

MJ: "I like the company more," he said without thinking.

Pete: The smile grew before he could do anything to stop it.

"Right back at you." He lifted his beer in a toast. "To our health and to Charlie's questionable carpet."

MJ: "To fucked up stains on the floor." He clinked their glasses and laughed.

Pete/Charlie: "I hear ya'll over there casting aspersions!" came Charlie's voice from down the bar.

"We love you, too, Charles."

MJ: "Wonder how good them ears really are."

Pete: "Charlie's got ears like a fruit bat," said Pete. "He hears all. Must be the conspiracy theorist in him."

MJ: "I'm a vampire. You're a werebear. Charles is a skunk."

Pete: He laughed. "Are wereskunks a thing? Because he'd totally be one."

MJ: "He is one. Or a black lab. Maybe a rottweiler. Weredogs a thing?" Still waiting for Charles to chime in again.

Pete: Charlie had moved even further way; if he heard them, he gave no indication of it.

"Probably not? I think werewolves fill that role."

MJ: "Huh. I guess. I swear there's somethin'. I can see it." Oh well. Probably another one of those memories-not-memories.

Pete: “Maybe it’s some other type of creature, not necessarily a Fera. Like a demon dog or something.”

MJ: "D'y like what ya are?" A question asked softly, sotto voce, giving an ounce of real privacy.

Pete: “I didn’t really at first. It’s weird to suddenly be a bear, you know? It’s overwhelming to wake up one day and not know yourself. I’ve come around to it though.”

MJ: "Sounds the same, then. Heard some of em eat their own." MJ casually glanced around the bar, breathed in deeply. No, Charles' wasn't anything but a man in need of a shower.

Pete: Pete blinked. “Seriously? Yikes. I really hope that’s not true.”

MJ: "It is. I mean, not you but it is what it is. D'ya feel more... feral?" He expected the answer to be no, given that Peter, as far as they were aware, was born human.

Pete: "Not feral, per se. Just feel more...bear like. I swear the whole winter I was exhausted. I went to bed every night at like 8:30 like an old man."

MJ: "Ha!" So fucking neat. "Ya wanna eat everything in your fridge, too?"

Pete: "I did. I had the mealtimes of a hobbit."

MJ: "Holy fuck. I wanna see that."

Pete: Pete laughed. "You wanna see me eat twenty million times a day?"

MJ: "Yeah, actually. I wanna see ya bear out."

Pete: "Wanna hang out with me next full moon?"

MJ: "Should be here. If ya want me here."

Pete: He smiled over his beer. “I’d like that. You’re officially invited.”

MJ: "How long is that? Ya just know, or gotta look it up?"

Pete: “In a few days. I have full moons marked on my phone’s calendar.”

MJ: "How soon ‘fore ya feel different?"

Pete: “The closer the full moon gets the more bear like I feel. It’s not too much yet but it will be here pretty soon.”

MJ: "So it's both, I guess?"

Pete: “Kinda, yeah. I don’t know if I pay more attention to my bear feelings because I know the full moon is coming or if I’d feel them even if I didn’t know.”

MJ: "Should see. Never know, ya know?"

MJ stared down the barrel of his glass, let his thoughts swim for a moment in nothingness before his next sip.

Pete: Pete nodded thoughtfully. "Guess it wouldn't hurt to experiment one of these months."

He gestured toward the beer. "Any enjoyment at all in that or are you just thinking about having to throw it up later?"

MJ: "Ya remembered that?"

Pete: Another nod. "Yep. One of them vampire facts that sticks in the mind."

MJ: "Guess so. What else ya remember?"

Pete: He made a face. "The butt teeth."

MJ: "Excuse me what?"

Pete: “Guildias gave me a book that talked about this one clan who likes to experiment with body horror shit and scarred me for life.”

MJ: "Uh," MJ laughed. "Okay, I meant me. Let's leave butt teeth with the snake charmer."

Pete: “Speaking of snakes, make any appear on bars lately?”

MJ: "Look here, that was just a joke."

Pete: Pete chuckled. “A lot funnier after the fact. Thing looked so damn real.”

MJ: "Hey, I don't know ya. We're supposed t'start over."

Pete: “Right, of course.” He smiled. “Tell me about your magic dog travel buddy.”

MJ: "Mm. Well, Abel's a familiar. Not mine, but," shrug. "Gorgeous face; free to admire. He's a little terror. Insatiable. Probably'll show up 'fore dawn."

Pete: "Insatiable for food?" He hoped?

MJ: "Food n'everything else." MJ returned his gaze and squinted. He knew what Peter was getting at.

Pete: Getting at? He was getting at nothing.

“You should bring him by the pub. Bobby’s doing a lot of comfort food lately.”

MJ: "Up to him. Ya wanna meet him?"

Pete: "Sure. Always interesting to meet someone with magic."

MJ: "D'ya really wanna meet em, or ya just sayin' that?"

Pete: "I wouldn't say it if I didn't wanna meet him."

MJ: "I dunno that."

Pete: He smiled. "Fair enough. I really would like to meet him."

MJ: "How much of what ya say is 'cause of the past?"

Pete: "I'm trying not to, promise."

MJ: "What have ya said, though?"

Pete: "The snake on the bar thing."

MJ: Gasp! "It didn't look real?!"

Pete: Pete laughed. "No, it totally did."

MJ: "What else?"

Pete: "That's all, scout's honor. I really do want us to start fresh."

MJ: MJ leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin in hand. Another squint.

Pete: The squint would be met with an earnest smile.

MJ: "Don't love me, Peter."

Pete: To Pete's credit, the smile never faltered.

"We're just getting to know each other over beers that one of us will throw up later."

MJ: "Wow. Ya went there."

Pete: He chuckled. "I can't stop thinking about it. I feel bad that you have to."

MJ: "Don't want ya t'drink alone."

Pete: "Thanks, I appreciate it." He thought for a moment. "Would you still have to if whatever you were drinking was mixed with blood?"

MJ: "Depends on how much it is, I think. Probably eventually."

Pete: "My mentor's grandson told me about the neighboring prince drinking wine mixed with virgin blood, but I could never quite tell if he was serious or if he was just fucking with me."

MJ: "Probably meant it. If they're older than me - prince - then m'not surprised."

Pete: "I think he said she was a couple hundred years old at least."

MJ: "Yep." MJ stretched his arms and sank deeper into his seat. All but melting.

"Ya figured out how long ya got?"

Pete: "Over a hundred but possibly under two? That's my best guesstimate."

MJ: Without something to say, Peter was left with a smile, simple albeit genuine.

Pete: That was more than enough as far as Pete was concerned. This place they were in was fresh and new but it was good. This was good.

“Had enough of this A+ ambiance or wanna stay for another round?”

MJ: "We just got here! Regale me with stories of the pub. I pick next round. I think it's time ya had some cinnamon schnapps."

Pete: "Oh man," he laughed. "I haven't had that since I was...fifteen maybe? Snuck a bottle from the pub and my friends and I took it down to the beach and passed it around."

MJ: "Jesus. Yeah. Regale me with freckle-faced you when the world was young and excitin'," laughed MJ.

Pete: "Well, in a shock to no one, we got super plastered. It was nearly one in the morning when we stumbled home and the second my mom opened the door ready to tear me a new one for breaking curfew, I puked all over the porch."

MJ: MJ feigned disapproval, shaking his head. "How could she ever love ya after that?"

Pete: "Right? The shame of it all. I was grounded for three weeks and my dad made me bus tables to pay for the bottle we took."

MJ: "What a good boy ya are." And a wink to follow.

Pete: Another laugh. "Oh yeah, a Goldschlager-stealing teenage paragon of virtue."

MJ: "Nothin' wrong with stealin', if ya don't get caught."

Pete: "Or if you don't throw your guts up on your front porch and also your mom."

MJ: "She's never forgiven ya. She mighta said it, but she didn't. Her feet'll never forgive ya."

Pete: "It's definitely not in her Top Mothering Moments highlight reel. She tells that story literally every time she makes something with cinnamon in it and I happen to be around."

MJ: "Forever punishin'. That's a -" MJ watched the door. The couple walking in, talking passionately about something. Politics, maybe. There was laughter, so he doubted.

"That's a mom. Don't think ours would get along."

Pete: Pete briefly followed MJ's gaze, turning away again upon not recognizing the couple.

"Oh yeah? Why's that?"

MJ: "'Cause my mama woulda rubbed your back n'left it at that."

Pete: "She wouldn't have grounded me?"

MJ: "She woulda asked if ya learned anything from it."

Pete: "I did, in fact. I learned a very valuable lesson that day."

MJ: "S'all matters t'her."

Pete: "My mom liked to drive home the 'you done fucked up' point. My dad was more like your mom. If you broke something you had to fix or replace but he was a lesson guy above all."

MJ: MJ just smiled, thoughts filled with Kenna and all the lessons she had to discover herself. Lessons he'd had the shock of learning himself. Ones he refused to intervene in her coming of age. Too damn stubborn to listen, anyways. Pick and choose the battles. You only get one hill to die on, his mother said.

"How many times were ya grounded?"

Pete: "During my entire childhood? Oh, man," he chuckled. "Too many to count. Most weren't that big a deal, the Goldschlager incident was one of the big ones. Probably the biggest."

MJ: "Why'd ya do it?"

Pete: "Curiosity, dumb teenage judgment. I remember being very impressed with the gold flakes in the bottle."

MJ: "That's it? Just 'cause ya could?"

Pete: "Pretty much. Boredom probably played a part, too. It was during the summer."

MJ: "Look at chu. Thought ya woulda had t'have some kinda excuse. Maybe somethin' angsty."

Pete: Pete just smiled and finished off his beer. “Nah, I was just fifteen and dumb. Being grounded during the summer by the way? The worst.”

MJ: "You're just old enough iPads didn't rot your brain. We were spared."

Pete: “Right? Being bored was an integral part of growing up.”

MJ: "I was never bored." Said like a challenge.

Pete: “Spoken like a man that never broke a window with a soccer ball.”

MJ: "Your mama punished accidents?"

Pete: “I’m sure she would’ve done something, but my dad standing beside her dying laughing kinda ruined her plans.”

MJ: "Kinda dig ruined plans these days."

Pete: “She barely got the middle names out when my dad just started wheeze-laughing.”

MJ: "I only got the middle name once."

Pete: "Only once? Impressive. What caused it?"

MJ: "Gettin' kicked outta college."

Pete: He nodded. "Yep, that'll do it."

MJ: "More like gettin' caught with my hand in the cookie jar." He shrugged. "But you. You're a bad boy. Gettin' caught all the time."

Pete: "The soccer ball incident was all Luke. That's why he's a goalie, he can't aim for shit."

MJ: "His center of gravity is better than ours. He should be the best."

Pete: "You'd think so," Pete chuckled. "But nope, he can't aim. He played goalie in school and for a while for our weekly game but his true calling is being ref."

MJ: "Knew a guy that every game hit someone's car."

Pete: "Accidentally? Or on purpose?"

MJ: "Baseball wasn't his game."

Pete: "Damn. He ever break any windows?"

MJ: "Fuck. Mike broke many fuckin' windows. Sent one flyin' into Jock's fuckin' shoulder. Hit a teacher's car. Hit his mama's car. It was fuckin' great."

Pete: Pete laughed and shook his head. "Jesus Christ. Mike, my guy, you should've cut and run after like the second window."

MJ: "Mike's a father now. He teaches his kid how t'play."

Pete: "Did the kid inherit his skills?"

MJ: "No idea." He gestured to his body. "Don't keep in touch anymore."

Pete: "I kinda hope the kid broke one of his car windows."

MJ: "Same. Probably will. That whole family is klutz."

Pete: "Bless their hearts. I feel like breaking windows is a rite of passage for kids. Even June and her siblings broke one."

MJ: "June?" Oh! He snapped his fingers. "The lil fake blonde!"

Pete: "Thankfully the fake blonde days are long since past. She's stayed brunette and boxes now."

MJ: "Punched her boyfriend out?"

Pete: "No but I hope she goes back and does it someday. She's bartending now. Waitress days are long gone too."

MJ: "She a strong independent Latina now."

Pete: "She is. She's a cat mom, too. Her cat is my cat's brother."

MJ: "...Ah." The damn cat again. That link to a man he intended to visit. One of these nights. Maybe.

"Ready for that second round?"

Pete: "Yep. Let's relive my youth, minus the puking and grounding."

MJ: "Well. One of us is gonna do it. I'll take the bullet." Dwight was waved down and given their order. A leap from Blue Moon to say the least.

Pete: "You're a real trooper, and I mean that."

Dwight had no reaction to the order beyond a nod but Charlie, who was back at their end of the bar, couldn't help but chuckle and shake his head.

MJ: MJ just smiled. A tricky subject to broach, but he wanted to.

"So. How's your love life? Any hook ups?"

Pete: Pete shook his head. "Nope, none. Love life is pretty much non-existent."

MJ: "What a perfect waste of a good beard."

Pete: He snorted. "You sound like Sylvain."

MJ: "Which one is that?"

Pete: "My mentor's grandson. The one who told me about the virgin blood wine."

MJ: "See, this why I think ya need t'find your dad."

Pete: "...Because I'm not hooking up?"

MJ: "'Cause your mentor ain't a bear."

Pete: "Gaetan being my mentor pre-dated me finding out I'm a bear. It's just another thing he helped me through, I didn't seek him out specifically because of it."

MJ: "How'd ya find him?"

Pete: "By pure chance," Pete said softly, something quietly awed in his voice. "In a marketplace."

MJ: "He just took ya home with him?"

Pete: "Not quite." He nodded his thanks to Dwight as their drinks were placed in front of them.

Once he was sure no one was listening, he continued. "I'd been in St. Malo a couple of days and went to the marketplace after a local told me about it. I go, look around, have some breakfast, pretty standard. But then as I'm walking around, I start to feel like someone is staring at me. You know that feeling when all the little hairs on your neck stand up? That but more...I don't know, intense? So I stop and look around to see if I can spot who it is when I see this old, old man sitting at a little table beside a produce stand. He looked about ninety-something and he's staring right at me, like he's trying to see through me. We make eye contact and he just smiles and beckons me over."

MJ: "Your mentor is in his 90s?" Was all MJ had taken from the story so far. He imagined some frail old bastard with a beard down to his knees. Eyebrows untamed bushes, ridiculous and forgotten. A man to use his walking stick to smack sense into idiot children.

Pete: Pete smiled. "Patience, grasshopper. So he's beckoning me over and I'm standing there wondering if I should move closer or turn and walk in the other direction. For god knows what reason, I move closer. He points at the chair in front of him, I sit. Then he pulls out this little leather pouch and asks me what my name is in heavily accented but perfect English, which caught me off guard since a lot of the older people I met couldn't speak English that well. Anyway, I tell him and he dumps out the little pouch--which had runes in it--and proceeds to cast them for me to tell me my fortune."

MJ: Patience, then. He was hungry for more. That which he'd been ignorant to during their relationship. Things he no longer had the energy to wish for. In regards to Peter and to Rohan, he felt numb. Victoria's doing, no doubt.

"A hot piece of ass in your future. A great fortune n'a bigger cock."

Pete: He snorted and shook his head. "Not quite. I don't even know if I can call it telling me my fortune. He just told me stuff about me. How I was feeling, where I'd been, what path I was on. Very spiritual. And unsettling. Mostly unsettling if we're being completely honest, but also intriguing? I don't know if that's the right word for it but it made me want to keep sitting there talking to him. He had this energy about him that felt familiar and not familiar at the same time. I felt like..." He squinted, trying to find the right words.

"You know that feeling you get in dreams, where the people you're interacting with are completely real to you in that moment but some part of you knows it's not?"

MJ: "I don't dream much anymore, but I know what ya mean. I think. Things bein' real n'not real is kinda my schtick. So then what happened?"

Pete: "Actually yeah, it's kinda like the snake on the bar. Not to keep bringing it up or anything but as I was looking at him I felt the same way I did that day. That split second of believing the snake was completely real before my brain remembered it was an illusion. Something about this mysterious old man seemed like an illusion as I was sitting there with him, even though I knew he was completely real. The woman running the stall talked to him, a few people that passed said hello to him. He was definitely real and he could definitely tell I was having this internal debate, I'm sure I looked confused as hell. It amused him enough to invite me to his house for lunch. Well, their house I should say, because it turned out the woman running the stall was his daughter. And once again, for god only knows what reason, I accepted the invitation and went to their place for lunch. I say house but really it's a villa."

MJ: A simple sentence in that statement tightened MJ's brows. Restricted his attention to the rest of the story. A story of an illusionary man was intrigue enough, but that damn statement wouldn't leave him be.

"Remembered it was an illusion?"

Pete: "Maybe I didn't phrase that right." He thought for a moment. "You ever see footage of like...supposed hauntings or UFOs or something and there's that initial mental gasp before something kicks in that tells you that what you're seeing isn't real?"

MJ: "Is that a challenge?"

Pete: "Definitely not," Pete chuckled. "Not here at least. Maybe you can test me when you come along on the full moon."

MJ: "Was it 'cause it didn't move?"

Pete: "Partially. It was insanely realistic though."

MJ: "Did things all the time. Ya just didn't -" That's not what this was meant to be. He couldn't break his own rule. "Drink your schnapps."

Pete: Pete took an obedient sip, and almost instantly a smile broke out across his face.

"Tastes like being a dumb teenager."

MJ: "So, like begin' sick?" Being sick, verses what he really wanted to say. Polite-ish company and all.

Pete: "Nah, everything that came before. It was fun before the being sick and getting grounded."

MJ: "Bein' grounded didn't do shit. Ya badass kid."

Pete: That got a laugh. "No one has ever called me that, ever. It didn't stop me from being dumb but it sure ruined my life for three weeks."

MJ: "Shit's slower as a kid. Of course it was for-fuckin-ever." A thought which had him looking down the bottom of his glass. "They say it gets like that after two hundred. Ya know. Them."

Pete: He nodded as he took another sip. "Gaetan says that, too."

MJ: "After how long?"

Pete: "I doubt you'll believe me if I tell you."

MJ: "Guess ya really did have your own adventure."

Pete: “It was an adventure and a half. I really hope I’m not boring you, I know it’s a lot.”

MJ: "Boring me? The fuck ya think you're talkin' to?"

Pete: "Just making sure! Not everyone likes hearing long-winded things."

MJ: "Well, lucky for ya, I happen t'like em."

Pete: "I'm glad," he said with a smile. "You and Gaetan would get along."

MJ: "Why's that?"

Pete: "He likes long-winded stories, messing with people, going on adventures. He's been to space."

MJ: "Long winded makes em sound shitty." A finger raised. "Space?"

Pete: “Space!"

MJ: "Elaborate!" he laughed.

Pete: "Should I pick up where I left off or tell you the space part?"

MJ: "I think we need t'digress right quick."

Pete: "He's always been really fascinated by space and astronomy so as soon as being an astronaut became a thing that people could do, he became one. He worked on the very first American space station in the 70s."

MJ: "He's a fuckin' astronaut? Name in the books n'everything? How'd he get away with that?" He knew how Kindred could. Information a now simple subconscious existence. It hadn't occurred to him to consider outside of his circle.

Pete: Pete just smiled again as he took another sip of schnapps. "The same way I thought he was a ninety year-old man."

MJ: "Ya can't just glamour a fuckin' background check!"

A quick glance around. Ignore the yelling biker.

Pete/Charlie: Everyone mostly did, except for one Charles Brandt.

He squinted at MJ. "The hell ya'll talking about over there?"

MJ: "Lion tamin'!"

Charlie: "Pffft, sure, and Marilyn OD'ed."

MJ: "What? Ain't seen Tiger King?"

Charlie: "Who's the tiger king?"

MJ: "Bless ya."

Charlie: "Don't patronize me, ankle biter."

MJ: "I mean it! Saved precious hours of your life!"

Charlie: "Oh. Well that's all right then."

MJ: MJ returned his rescuing smile back to Peter.

Pete: "Nice save," Pete said under his breath.

MJ: "Baby, m'all about saves."

Pete: "You really friggin' are. And to answer your question, he's not currently an astronaut but he's thinking about giving it another go soon. He fabricates identities fairly regularly."

MJ: "So, guess the older ya get the more perfect ya are."

Pete: "He's had a loooong time to get the process down pat."

MJ: "I don't trust anything that sounds perfect."

Pete: "I don't know if I'd describe him as perfect. He's perfected a lot of things just because he's so goddamn old but the man himself? Human as human can be."

MJ: "Hmm. Don't trust anything that old with humanity."

Pete: Pete chuckled. "That the vampire in you speaking or just you?"

MJ: "Maybe both. Don't judge me."

Pete: "Oh no, I don't. I can completely see why someone wouldn't trust him, I don't blame you."

MJ: "But ya did."

Pete: "I did, yeah. Feels like he stitched me back together. Not just him, though. Being there, the whole experience."

MJ: "Mm. I can't say shit on the matter."

Pete: "Sounds like you had your own similar experience, only in a different setting."

MJ: "What, runnin' away from shit?"

Pete: "With your demon friend."

MJ: "Apples n'oranges."

Pete: "True. But they're both still fruits at the end of the day."

MJ: His mouth opened - closed. "Nah. M'thinkin' a tomatoes."

Pete: "Tomatoes?"

MJ: "Fruit."

Pete: "Well, it might not go in a fruit salad but it's still a fruit, too. That's all life is. One big salad."

MJ: "Dude, you're a fuckin' hippie."

Pete: Well he was just all smiles now, the corners of his eyes crinkling in delight as he finished off his glass. "Yep, 'fraid so."

MJ: "I miss the man that would throw punches." He didn't mean to say that out loud, but too late. He would mirror finishing his own glass to shut his mouth.

Pete: Pete tried to temper his expression. It was comforting to know he wasn't the only one to have a slip on this new leaf of theirs.

"If it makes you feel any better, he threw one a couple weeks ago."

MJ: Like a dog with perked ears. "Who deserved it?"

Pete: "Creepy old perv that cornered a kid at the park."

MJ: "The fuck? How many times did ya punch him?"

Pete: "Twice. Cal and I had gone to the soccer field one evening just for fun and when we first arrived at the park there was this group of kids hanging out by the swings. Oldest one looked about fourteen. When we were leaving we passed by the playground again and there was only one of the kids left and this mouth-breathing cockbag had him pressed against one of the poles."

MJ: "The fuck did he - Did ya tell Bre..." Oh. Right. That can of half-dead worms. MJ looked away, arms coming in to cross and rest on his stomach. "The sheriff woulda taken care of him."

Pete: "He did. Cal called him while I tried not to commit murder."

MJ: The vampire's lips slowly thinned. "How is he?"

Pete: "Regrettably still alive, but in the county jail."

MJ: "Nanana - the uh, the sheriff."

Pete: "Oh! He's fine. Also had to resist the urge to commit murder. Actually the second time he had to resist, and for the exact same reason."

MJ: "Thought this was gonna be a meth town. I'd rather a meth town. Whatever." With that, he was on his feet, fishing for his wallet.

Pete: "The only comfort--if it can even be called that--is that the cockbag doesn't live here. Fucking tourists."

He quickly shook his head and reached for his own wallet. "No no no, you don't have to do that. I'll get it."

MJ: "Why? Did ya win the lottery?"

Pete: He just smiled and placed a few bills on the bar. "Let your new friend buy your drinks, wouldya please?"

MJ: "New friend tryin'ta get in my pants?"

Pete: "New friend who will hold your metaphorical hair while you're sick."

MJ: "Tisk. Aw jeez. What a pal." A five was tossed out of friendly spite.

Pete/Charlie: Pete just laughed and waved goodbye to Dwight and Charles. "Good seeing you, Charlie."

"You, too, kid. Ya'll come back now."

MJ: "Ya go treat yourself t'the spa! On me, Charl." The door was allowed to close with its own weight behind him.

Pete/Charlie: "There are cheaper ways to get a happy ending!" Charles called after them.

Pete shook his head as the door closed. "Ol' Charl never changes. He's gonna outlive us all."

MJ: "If he's anything he hides it like a pro."

Pete: "He's probably just some kind of super human powered by stubbornness and whiskey sours."

MJ: "My uncle lived on canned beans and bacon. Anything's possible."

Pete: "Some people just have that gene I guess. So. Where to now?"

MJ: "Need t'find some kinda spell t'push this town closer t'the city."

Pete: "And have them city slickers ruining the place? Never."

MJ: "Nothin' t'do 'round here. How did I - mm." A hand clasped firmly to his stomach.

Pete: Uh oh.

He looked around for a suitable bush. "Over there. Easy does it now."

MJ: "'Easy does it'? Did ya gain fifty years while I was gone?" To the bush, then.

Pete: "I've got a pregnant sister I've been saying it to a lot. Need anything to make this easier?"

MJ: Peter was waved off. "Fuck off for a minute." No one needed to see vomit and blood and hear the retched sound.

Pete: "Yep, can do." Pete was just gonna step a safe distance away and turn around while MJ did what he needed to do.

MJ: The unmistakable sound would reach Peter's ears within moments. Spit and curses following. All for the sake of company and some shred of domesticity.

"Where to now? My place. I need some fuckin' Listerine."

Pete: Pete winced. Not because of the sound, he'd heard worse. He just wanted MJ to feel comfortable.

"Sure thing. Need a napkin or anything?"

MJ: "Don't fuckin' baby me. I got it."

Pete: "All right, all right. Lead the way then."

MJ: Miles to the mobile home park. To the same lot which had been his years ago. The same people, the same attitudes. Not so late in the night for silence. A herd of children were being rounded up by two men armed with water guns.

Leslie Issott waved with his free hand, saying nothing in his passing. Yellow and pink squirt gun still aimed at his neighbor's son.

Pete: It had been ages since Pete had walked down this way, or walked this much on a non-full moon night. Something to remedy now that the weather was starting to warm up.

Pete smiled at Leslie as they passed, returning the wave.

"Place always looks exactly the same," he said absently. "Or it seems to, anyway."

MJ: "S'real people. Kind m'not interested in - in that way, ya know?"

Pete: He nodded. "Yeah, I can understand that. Any of them roll out the welcome wagon for you?"

MJ: "Just got here." Tunnel vision for this meeting, MJ hadn't lingered long enough for anyone to say hello.

Pete: Another nod. "Bet someone does before long."

Pete's eyes narrowed as they approached MJ's house. "Does your RV look...newer?"

MJ: "Uh... yeah. Other one kinda... broke."

Pete: "Really? Huh. Well, an upgrade is always nice."

MJ: "I guess. Shit happens."

Yes, it was his RV, but he was going to knock for Abel's sake.

Abel: Abel was sitting upside down watching something on his phone when the scent of MJ registered a moment before he heard the knock at the door.

"I'm not naked!" he called. Although at this point, did it really matter? They'd been living in the same space for ages, what was a bare ass between friends.

MJ: A statement which put a smile on MJ's face. A wink to Peter before opening the door.

"Good, 'cause I got innocent eyes here that don't need t'see your dangly bits."

Pete/Abel: Pete's brow furrowed in confused amusement at the shouted greeting.

"Is he usually naked?" he asked before they stepped inside.

Abel turned toward MJ and their surprise guest. He gasped. "Did you make a friend? In less than twenty-four hours?! I'm so proud!"

MJ: "Shaddup. This is Peter. Remember Peter? " Said casually, of course, but the look in his eye was one which said "be nice" in all capital letters above his head. If only he could manage that without Peter noticing.

Pete/Abel: Whether Pete noticed or not, he was going to pretend he didn't.

Abel did though. "Oh! Yeah, I do!" He righted himself and got to his feet. "Hi, Peter, I'm Abel. I promise not to show you my dangly bits."

Pete laughed and reached out to shake his hand. "I appreciate that. You can call me Pete, by the way."

MJ: This felt awkward. Hours and hours and miles and miles leading up to this moment, and he wanted to turn his ass around and pull Peter by the collar.

And yet, in contrast, why care? What was the point?

"Gonna swish." Abel was given another look. "I did the thing."

Abel: Abel made a face. "Ew, gross. Forget swishing, go whole hog and brush your teeth. I'll entertain Pete with some jokes and an improvised dance number."

MJ: "I need t'put on some cabaret?" He'd certainly hum some on the way to the bathroom.

Pete/Abel: “Every little thing helps!” Abel called after him, swaying along with the tune until it faded.

He turned back to Pete and smiled. “All right. I’m gonna bounce. I owe you some jokes.”

“Oh no, you don’t have t—“

“I don’t but I do so I’m gonna. Good to meet you, Pete.”

“Abel, really—“

“Nope, trust me, you both need this.”

And just like that, he was gone.

MJ: He did a thing, now Abel did a thing. He could feel it in the silence. What side was the damn familiar on?

"It got quiet," gargled from behind the bathroom door.

Pete: “Uh...yeah, it did. Your friend decided to make himself scarce.”

MJ: "What did he think, we gonna fuck?"

Pete: “Does he? You know him better than I do.”

MJ: "Askin' if he said that or somethin'."

Pete: “He just said we both needed this.”

MJ: The door was carefully kicked open while he swished. Words in neon orange above his head, struggling to remain visible.

'You agree?'

Pete: Impossible not to smile. A small bit of magic perhaps but incredibly impressive. Sure beat the hell out of pantomiming.

"Maybe, yeah. Do you?"

MJ: He didn't want to just dismiss the idea. Abel was meant to be some sort of buffer. Part of the reason he'd been brought across country. Abel must have known that.

The neon changed color, faded to yellow question marks.

Pete: "He could've felt like he'd be intruding by staying. Or he didn't wanna make it weird."

MJ: Time to spit. "Was it weird?"

Pete: Pete shrugged. "Not at Charlie's, but that was more familiar. Meeting someone new is always a little weird. Even for normal people."

MJ: "Familiars eat that shit up. Least that one does." The door was shut behind him. Jacket tossed over the nearest seat.

Pete: "Maybe he just wanted to give you some privacy." He smiled. "You know, like friends do."

MJ: "Maybe he thinks we'll fuck."

Pete: Another shrug. "A logical assumption, I guess. Anyone would think the same."

MJ: "Anyone? 'Cause we had a wild year t'gether?"

Pete: "People assume far more about people who've known each other for far less."

MJ: MJ leaned his shoulder against the nearest bit of wall, picked at his less-than-perfect fingernails.

"Ya remember what ya said t'me, once, 'bout how I didn't give ya enough attention?"

Pete: Pete nodded and looked down at his hands. He remembered every excruciating moment alongside the good ones.

"I do."

MJ: "What was it?"

Pete: "I said..." A sigh. "I said that I felt like I had to share you with everyone, that you seemed to have time for everyone but me."

MJ: "I didn't vamp into this." He gestured around the RV. "I was raised in one of these until Kenna was born. Daddy got us a brick n'mortar, but I still lived in the RV. Never had a curfew. No questions but if I had a good time, if I got caught. If we wanted t'get up n'go, we got up n'went. M'not used t'this." Pointed between them.

"I left Rohan, too. Just got that itch. Wasn't safe, it said. Then I got chased. Everything screamin' at me t'save myself. Like bein' backed in a corner." More picking at his nails, looking up to continue.

"I loved Rohan. I loved you. Still do, but that's just love. That ain't... enough reason t'do anything more than say I love ya."

Pete: They'd had such different upbringings. Not quite polar opposite, but still different. He tried to imagine his own parents taking that approach, tried to imagine how he would be and how his siblings would be if they had.

A dull, familiar ache pulsed in his chest as he offered MJ a small smile. "I don't have any illusions or expectations of anything more. I didn't even have illusions or expectations of that. Hope, sure, but not any expectations. I just want you to be happy and okay."

MJ: "But ya wanted me here. I get wantin' texts or somethin'. I get that now. Back then, that was too much, but that's on me."

Pete: "I probably was, too. Too needy, too emotional, asking too much. If I was, at any point, I'm sorry."

MJ: "Ya wanted the picture. I ain't ever been the picture, Peter."

Pete: "Well, it's like the Stones say, you don't always get what you want. It was unfair of me to try to fit you into some ideal. Some mold. You deserve better than that from someone who loves you."

MJ: "N'ya deserve someone that's around. M'not gonna always be around. Ya deserve what ya always wanted."

Pete: "The rest of that lyric is 'if you try sometimes, you get what you need'."

MJ was given another smile. "You know what I really want? Something real. Not the ideal or the mold or the thing that looks like what everyone thinks it should look like. I just want something real."

MJ: "How m'I supposed t'know what ya really mean n'what you'll say t'get what ya want?" Spoken carefully and clearly despite his accent, words as delicate as the situation.

Pete: Pete gave a small shrug. "I think this is something where actions speak louder than words. I can tell you all day but that won't make you believe me. I have to prove it to you."

MJ: Fingernails were beginning to warm from constant picking. Too good of a distraction.

"Same."

Pete: "So I guess my question is, what can I do to prove it to you?"

MJ: "I don't have the answer, either. Thought about it the whole way here. Only thing I came up with was pretendin' we never met."

Pete: "Well..." He offered up smile. "We've made our introductions, new friend. The rest is in the lap of the gods."

MJ: "Ya believe in that stuff?"

Pete: "In gods?"

MJ: "Mhm."

Pete: "I don't think I'm a capital 'B' believer, but I do, yeah. I pray my Druid prayers every day. It comforts me."

MJ: "Callum, I guess?"

Pete: Pete shook his head. "Madeleine. Gaetan's current eldest daughter."

MJ: "Current eldest?"

Pete: "His family tree is pure chaos. Took me a long time to get it straight. He's had countless children in his life, countless daughters. Madeleine is his eldest at the moment and she looks like she could be his mother."

MJ: "He just lets em all die?"

Pete: "He gives them a choice."

MJ: "Sure." He didn't know enough to have an opinion, outside of the wary of druids and their strange magic.

Pete: Pete didn't understand it much either, but it was one of those things he hadn't felt comfortable inquiring on further.

"Yeah, so. Madeleine was the one who suggested I join her during her evening prayer and eventually taught them to me. She said people derive comfort from their prayers. She must've thought I looked like I needed comfort."

MJ: "What were ya like 'fore I came here? The guy I met at the bar, I only knew him for a little 'fore ya became this."

Pete: "I'm not all that different. From my perspective anyway. Just less angry, not in as much inner turmoil, or that weird feeling of limbo I didn't realize I had."

MJ: "Maybe what ya fell in love with in me ain't here anymore."

Pete: "I could say the same to you. You may very well decide I'm insufferable and not want anything to do with me." Pete shrugged. "We won't know until we get to know each other."

MJ: "How d'ya wanna get t'know me? Ya got somethin' in mind? Ya thought about this, didn't ya?"

Pete: He just smiled. "Only thing I had in mind was to take you with me on a full moon. Or invite you at least. Maybe go for a swim, catch some fish."

MJ: "I'll come with ya. Yeah. But what ya wanna do until then?"

Pete: "Right this minute? We could watch something or go down to the pub with Abel."

MJ: "We just left a bar!" MJ laughed.

Pete: "We don't have to drink! We can just be there and people watch or bother Bobby. Watching something is also an option at the pub, I put a TV in my office."

MJ: "You're a workaholic."

Pete: “I put it up there precisely so I could have a little break from work. And the cats really like it.”

MJ: "Catsssss?"

Pete: “June brings Socks with her so he can hang out with his brother.”

MJ: "N'people think I'm a nut."

Pete: “You got nothing on us crazy cat people,” Pete said with a grin.

MJ: "I mean, rat person. Totally different breed."

Pete: “Midas is a rat person, too. Only hunts bugs and sticks.”

MJ: "I don't trust a face that beautiful."

Pete: “That beautiful little face once watched a field mouse eat his food and just meowed and looked sad.”

MJ: "The mouse will always come back now."

Pete: "He definitely did a couple times before we came back to the States."

MJ: "Alright, so ya want outta the RV?"

Pete: "Unless you wanna watch something here or just keep talking. I don't much mind where we go."

MJ: His mind was pulled in two directions. One simple and safe, one convoluted and certainly unsafe. Maybe a test. One which pushed leadership into Peter's hands as he stepped closer, less than the appropriate distance of acquaintanceship. His scent had not changed. Leather, gasoline, nature. The same cinnamon toothpaste. MJ took a breath, wanting to breathe in nostalgia.

Pete: Pete went very still as MJ approached, watching him with quiet curiosity and perhaps just a hint of caution.

He did smell exactly the same, reminded Pete of exactly the same things. Of his motorcycle and the forest. He wondered if he did, too. He still wore the same cologne, still smelled vaguely of smoke, still used the same soap.

So many things had remained the same and once upon a time, Pete would've just leaned forward to kiss MJ, easy as anything. But not everything was the same; there were things that had changed. They had changed.

All Pete could think to do was smile and say, "Let's go walk on the beach."

MJ: Well, there were some of their answers. Not the expected reaction of the man he'd once fallen to pieces over. Maybe that spontaneity had aged; maybe that new scent brought with it a composure his Peter hadn't possessed. Either way, he couldn't expect change and what had been his sweetheart to remain the same.

"Sure."

'You're gettin' hazed when ya get home. Ya in my head, pup?'

Anyway, a new shirt, same jacket. "Lead the way."

Pete/Abel: Spontaneity had given way to caution, at least for now. He wanted to kiss MJ. To hug him and cling to him and have everything be exactly as it had once been, as easy as it had once been.

But if he gave in to those wants, he risked losing MJ entirely. MJ could take it as proof that Pete wasn't really prepared to start at square one or that he was too hung up on who MJ had been to accept who he was now. And kissing MJ once right now wasn't worth potentially losing him. As ready as Pete was to fight for him and as willing as he was to start over, he wasn't willing to take that risk.

Pete smiled. "All right. I can show you the two-headed turtle."

'I made myself scarce! It's polite to make yourself scarce when your roommate brings his ex home!' Abel thought back.

MJ: The voice in his head, feminine and ripe with wisdom reminded him that this was for the best. Nothing lasted forever, not even immortals. Why should love be any different? A human lifetime was gone in a snap. Fera fell right behind them. Where were druids? These were not hills to die upon.

But he loved them both. He loved the memory of one, and the purity of the other. Hills.

'He's not a - doesn't matter! I needed a buffer ya dick!'

Peter was shooed from the door, locking the RV behind him. Not a barrier for the familiar. 'Go get laid or somethin'.'

Abel: 'Well then you should've said so! Communication, MJ. Remember that whole conversation we had about sharing our feelings with that homeless guy in Nebraska?'

But if it was buffer MJ wanted, then buffer he would get.

Within moments, Abel would come barreling out of the darkness with a tennis ball in his mouth, once more in dog form.

MJ: Fucking goddamn!

"Didn't wanna go get laid, huh?" The ball was grabbed from his mouth, thrown further down the dirt road.

Pete/Abel: Pete's brow furrowed as he scented the air. "...Abel?"

A confirming bark before the familiar went racing after the ball.

MJ: "Did ya just sniff the fuckin' air?"

Pete: "Oh, yeah," he chuckled. "I do that now. I also scratch my back on trees."

MJ: "Like, in both forms?"

Pete: "Nah, tree bark hurts in human form. I use door frames in human form."

MJ: "My fuckin' god, dude. How do they feel? Morphin'."

Pete: "Like becoming a human rubik's cube, or clay. I don't know what giving birth is like but I imagine it's kind of like that."

MJ: "Hurts like bein' squeezed outta a three-inch tube, or does it feel good... eventually?"

Pete: "A three-inch tube, yes, that's exactly it. But when it's done, there's just relief. Which is how my sister described childbirth."

MJ: "Yeah, some chemical shit makes ya forget." His smile reignited. "Childbirth. That's funny as shit. Givin' birth to yourself, I guess."

Pete/Abel: Pete laughed. "Yep, that's me. Giving birth to myself once a month."

Abel ran back towards them, ball in mouth.

MJ: "Toss it for him. He's really a dog like this."

Pete/Abel: "It's like when I'm a bear." Pete took the ball from Abel and tossed it, chuckling as the dog went racing after it again.

MJ: "Ya completely gone under the fur?"

Pete: He shook his head. "Not completely. The first few times I blacked out but now I'm fairly aware when I transform."

MJ: "But I mean, ya have... a bear brain, I guess?"

Pete: "Yep, along with everything else. I'm exhausted the whole winter, eat a ton leading up to it. And I now have actual chest hair."

MJ: "I dunno how to ask; my rats have linear thoughts n'great memory. Super simple. S'what I me - wait what?"

Pete: "Chest hair. I've got some now. A good bit actually, teenage me would be thrilled."

MJ: "Lemme see."

Pete: Pete tugged down the collar of his shirt just enough to expose some of his new crop of chest hair. It wasn't at the most extreme end of the hairy chest spectrum but it held its own.

MJ: "Shit, ya got more than me now," he laughed.

Pete/Abel: "It's them bear genes," Pete said with a grin.

And once more out of the darkness came Abel. It was MJ's turn to toss the tennis ball and the familiar showed no signs of getting tired. It had been a while since he'd played fetch.

MJ: The ball was taken and bounced between hands. He threw! but no he didn't. The ball held behind his back.

"I think about... things we didn't do."

Pete/Abel: "You mean other than playing fetch with a magical dog?"

Abel fell for it. Completely. His current doggie brain didn't realize MJ hadn't thrown the ball until he got about 20 feet ahead of them.

MJ: "Wow that really works." The ball was thrown in truth down their path.

He waited for those ears to get far enough away.

"People assume shit, with how I look. Big dudes like big dude things."

Pete: Ah. Those things. A sudden vision of the dream he was convinced he'd shared with MJ came into his head.

"Yeah. I'm familiar with that particular assumption. I made it of you, didn't I?"

MJ: "Don't blame ya. I didn't open my fuckin' mouth."

Pete: "I didn't ask and I should've. That was an important conversation to have."

MJ: "We talk with our bodies. I gave ya all sorts of conversation. I loved all of it. I'm also a liar."

Pete: "There was plenty to love. And for the record? Makes no difference to me."

MJ: "You're a fuckin' bottom if there ever was one," MJ grinned.

Pete: Pete laughed. "Can't argue with that, I guess. But I've flipped that coin before. I am technically bi, you know."

MJ: "So am I. Most people are, they just don't say shit. S'what I think."

Pete: “Yeah, maybe. Point is, I have no objection or...aversion to coin flipping.”

MJ: "I guess I don't, but like, m'still dead."

Pete: "And I'm a forest creature."

MJ: "Ya don't cum blood."

Pete: “We can’t help what form our bodily fluids come in.”

MJ: Peter was given a look. A long stare of scrutiny as they walked.

Pete: He just gave MJ an earnest smile and took his turn throwing the ball when Abel came back with it.

"I've had a lot of time to think about it."

MJ: "About my bodily fluids?"

Pete: "About all of it. Conversations, feelings, everything."

MJ: "Wanna spill?"

Pete: "Told you about that dream I had, right? About us?"

MJ: That had been one hell of a night. He squinted in the darkness. "Sounds... familiar."

Pete: "Well, we were in this dream version of my living room or somewhere and we were...like we used to be. You were in my lap and it felt so normal and we had one of those silent body conversations and it was so clear that...well, that the coin should've been flipped. I don't know how I didn't see it."

MJ: "Didn't want ya to, I guess." Abel was lifted under his arm, tennis ball bounced for the sake of teasing.

"Breakin' our rules left n'right."

Pete/Abel: Abel made a couple of half-hearted attempts to snatch the ball but all that running had worn him out. Better to catch his breath.

Pete smiled. "Yeah, we are. I should be asking how the cross-country drive was."

MJ: "About as fun as roamin' France, probably."

Pete: “Did ya’ll do a straight shot on highways only or have a proper road trip?”

MJ: "Dirt roads. Largest ball of yarn, corn fields in Nebraska, that kinda thing. Walked the streets of Chicago. Met a girl." He swiveled his hand. "Long trip here."

Pete: Mention of a girl would be ignored. For now. "Sounds like it. You know there's cryptids in those cornfields. My grandpa used to tell us stories about them."

MJ: "Nothin' surprises me anymore. Not about what exists. Tell me ya got abducted by aliens, maybe that'll get me."

Pete: “Not me, but by all accounts Grandpop Hiram did.”

MJ: MJ slowly turned his head to face his old boyfriend.

Pete: “No shit,” he chuckled. “He told me, right hand to god, that he got abducted while driving down a country road in the middle of the night and they didn’t return him until the next morning.”

MJ: "Now that'll take me a minute. Coulda been a fake memory."

Pete: "It could've, except that he didn't get returned in the same place. He woke up on his front lawn, truck nowhere to be found. The old sheriff found it abandoned in the middle of the road, keys still in it and everything, except no Hiram. Luke and I asked Peabody to see if there was still a report on file and there was, just like grandpop said. Abandoned truck in the middle of the road, lights still on, keys in the ignition."

MJ: "N'he don't remember jack shit? 'Sides bein' taken." A vampire, and even he felt that sting of doubt. Like what he imagined delirium to be like for kine.

Pete: "No, he did. He remembered laying on a cold surface and bright lights and shadowy figures standing over him."

MJ: "Ah. See, nah. That's too 50s."

Pete: "It was in the 50s."

MJ: "See?! No way, man. He's why we got movies like Close Encounters."

Pete: “Orrrrrr there just isn’t that much variation to how alien surgery is performed. Anyway, grandpop had that thing where his eyes were different colors and he said that after that incident, the colors were switched.”

MJ: "Heterochromia," a word smooth from his tongue, of course, having such eyes, though not quite the same.

"I don't think a little green man is gonna travel lifetime after lifetime after lifetime just to poke some flesh n'set it free."

Pete/Abel: "Yes, that word. And judging from what everyone says, that's exactly what the little green men do. Right, Abel? Back me up."

Abel barked once before thinking, 'Yeah, he's totally right,' to MJ.

MJ: "Ya ain't seen no goddamn aliens, Abe."

Abel: 'Hey, I could've seen aliens, you don't know. We spent a long time in Nebraska with Kenny the homeless guy. Ooh! I bet Kenny's seen aliens.'

MJ: "Of course Kenny's seen aliens. Guy had a mullet n'worked with corn in the 70s."

Pete: "Who's Kenny?" asked Pete.

MJ: "Some homeless dude we met in Nebraska. Had a thousand tales. Probably half true."

Pete/Abel: "And Kenny has a mullet, worked with corn, and has seen aliens, huh?"

'If anyone has, it's definitely--wait he can't hear me. MJ, if I switch back so I can talk will you still carry me?'

MJ: "Sure, piggy-back." Abel was placed on the ground between their feet.

"Yeah, all that Kenny stuff."

Pete/Abel: Once on the ground again, Abel gave himself a good shake and switched back to his human form, which was a far more streamlined process than Pete was used to. And Abel even got to keep his clothes on.

"Hi again!" the familiar said brightly. "Up, please!"

MJ: MJ bent his knee, waiting for that familiar weight of the familiar before returning to pace. This was completely normal.

"So yeah, Nebraska."

Pete/Abel: “Sounds like a hoot,” said Pete, smiling as Abel scrambled up on MJ’s back and clung to him like a koala. “Were any of Kenny’s maybe true stories about aliens?”

Abel shook his head. “No but he had a lot to say about drones and the pesticides they use on the corn.”

MJ: "He was on the same tree, not the right branch. Ya believe that shit?"

Pete: “The drones or the pesticides?”

MJ: "Both."

Pete: “The pesticides are fact. The drones, I’m not so sure. At least on a Big Brother kind of level. All those YouTube kids have drones.”

MJ: "If I had it my way there'd be no security cameras ever, but I'm fuckin' biased, and kinda fuckin' dead."

Pete: “I don’t think there’s any escaping them now. You can escape the YouTube kids though.”

MJ: "Gets easier n'harder at the same time."

Pete: “That’s progress, I guess. Keep an eye out for a rock with a turtle painted on it.”

MJ: "This metaphorical or literal?"

Pete: “Literal. It’s the marker for where the two-headed turtle lives.”

MJ: "The fuck are we doin' again? The beach?"

Pete: “Yes, and we’re also visiting the two-headed turtle.”

MJ: "Alright. Two-headed turtle it is. Wanna see a two-headed turtle, Abe?"

Abel: “Do you even have to ask? I’d go anywhere to see a turtle, especially if it has two heads.”

MJ: "I sure love not bein' the only weirdo."

Abel: “Turtles aren’t weird!”

MJ: "No. They're slow speech and wise. You. You're weird."

Abel: “For loving turtles?” Abel scoffed. “Nuh-uh. You’re weird, you like cowboy music.”

MJ: "What's wrong with Garth Brooks?"

Abel: “All his songs sound the same.”

MJ: "N'Reba?"

Abel: “Isn’t that a sitcom?”

MJ: "I'mma drop your ass."

Abel: Abel laughed. “You wouldn’t, Pete would think you’re a meanie.”

MJ: "I am a meanie. How d'ya not know Fancy? Or uh, The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia?"

Abel: “And here I thought Fallout Boy had long song titles. Why is all country music about the south? The north has countryside and cows too.”

MJ: "Folk, bluegrass, country, southern rock, country rock, hillbilly, blues, bluegrass; s'all countryside."

Abel: “Aren’t you Hungarian? How does a nice Hungarian boy develop a taste for the banjo and ballads about trucks?”

MJ: "I was born here, believe it or not. My old man just happens t'like that shit."

Pete/Abel: “Ah, well, we all need a guilty pleasure. Right, Pete?”

Pete smiled and nodded. “Right. Also we’ve arrived.” He pointed at a rock with a turtle painted on it. “Callum warded his home so some piece of shit kid didn’t kill it or kidnap it.”

MJ: "How's that work? Kill the kid instead?"

Pete: “What, no. It just keeps them from getting too close. He read a story about some little assholes killing a swan’s babies and it upset him so much he started warding every nest he found.”

MJ: "Ol' Callum's magic. Ya might like em, Abe. I see X in him. They'd hate each other or love each other."

The familiar was placed back on his own feet.

"N'I'm more than just Hungarian. Ya know that."

Pete/Abel: “They’ve met,” Pete sighed. “Cal’s not a fan.”

“He’s not alone in that.” Abel stretched. “Xavier is an acquired taste. Like kombucha.”

MJ: "See? Love or hate. Here's my thing: they're alike. Can't tell ya how. I ain't that articulate. They just are."

Pete: “Well, whatever you do, don’t ever say that to Callum,” Pete chuckled. “Have you talked to him since you’ve been here?”

MJ: "Have I?" He looked to Abel and laughed.

Abel: Abel grinned. “Xavier? He pops into our heads every now and then. Or to the RV. I think he misses us.”

MJ: "Think he means Cal."

Abel: “Oh! Yeah you definitely have. I haven’t.”

MJ: "Yeah, see. Definitely have."

Pete: “How did it go?” asked Pete.

MJ: "M'still alive. Hallelujah," MJ smiled.

Pete: Pete smiled back. “Yes you are. And he didn’t chase you around with a broom or sic the dog on you?”

MJ: "Not tonight. Maybe later. I'd probably deserve it."

Pete: He shook his head. “No, you don’t. He knows that, deep down.”

MJ: "Sure." His go-to when he had nothing to add, he realized. Wondered if that had always been the case, and too lazy to change it.

Pete/Abel: Pete just smiled and led MJ and Abel over to where the turtle liked to spend its time.

Sure enough, at their approach, two little heads poked out from the brush.

“Turtles!” Abel went in for a closer look, crouching so he was closer to the turtles’ level.

MJ: "Are they sayin' anything, Abe? They some hive mind, or they hate each other?"

MJ took to crouching by the familiar's side.

Abel: “I dunno, I can’t talk to them without that spell. Maybe you can talk to them.” He wasn’t sure if turtles greeted by sniffing but he offered them a finger anyway. “Hey there little guys!”

MJ: He'd take to the ground, then, chin against folded arms. Did turtles even make sounds? He waited patiently for eye contact, his only means of establishing a connection.

"Hey there, uglies."

Pete/Abel: “MJ!” Abel and Pete said in unison.

Being closer, Abel would be the one to give his friend a light smack on the shoulder. “Don’t be rude. They’re so cute! Don’t listen to him, fellas. You’re fantastic.”

One the heads seemed determined to stare anywhere but at the two beings before it. The other showed a bit more interest.

MJ: "I bet ya want your own body, huh?" Only one mind to speak with. Interested in all things. This existence was the only existence; he couldn't miss what he'd never had. Not the way humans lamented. His brother, not so much. More aware, perhaps.

"Y'all hungry?"

Pete: “I take it you mean the turtles,” said Pete, looking around for something the little reptiles could eat. “Ask them if they like snails and worms.”

MJ: "Can't go wrong with strawberries. Abe, got any? Or some snail 'bout to meet their end?"

Pete/Abel: “On me? Nope. There miiiight be some in the fridge? Can’t say what state they’re in though.”

Pete, meanwhile, was already on a snail and worm hunt. He couldn’t hear them in his human form as well as he could in his bear form but he liked to think he could a little bit. At least we’ll enough to find a snack for a two-headed turtle.

MJ: "What ya think, uglies?" They couldn't argue; this was free food either way.

Meanwhile, MJ would lay on his stomach in front of them, having their own private conversation.

Abel: Another smack to the shoulder courtesy of Abel. “They’re not ugly! Think of a cuter nickname for them. They’re special, they need a cute nickname.”

MJ: "What's wrong with bein' ugly?!"

Pete: “Absolutely nothing but they’re not ugly, they’re adorable. Ask them what their names are.”

MJ: "Fine! Fine." He searched for the brother's eyes, urging contact and a conversation to follow.

"They ain't got names. Most things don't. Just feelin. Like... this one's left n'this one's right. My other half, kinda thing. Alright. Larry n'Todd."

Pete/Abel: Abel’s face lit up. “Perfect! Larry and Todd, I love it. They look like a Larry and a Todd.”

“Soup’s on.” Pete returned with a couple of slugs and a worm.

MJ: "Hey, that is inappropriate wordin' 'round turtles."

Pete/Abel: “Oop, you’re right. Sorry, boys.”

“Larry and Todd!” Abel said cheerfully.

“Ah. Sorry, Larry and Todd.” He placed a slug in front of each head.

MJ: "I think they share a stomach. We'll find out in a minute." And away they went, chowing down on their little feast in what shadow they could find.

Pete: “They probably do since they share all their other parts. I think. They’re the only two-headed anything I’ve ever seen.” Pete offered the worm as well and left the little turtles to eat.

MJ: "Some share the same brain. Saw it on YouTube. Mama would show a picture to one head n'the other would know the color."

Pete: “That’s incredible. Must be difficult to adjust to life attached to another person but when it works, it’s incredible. I’m guessing they weren’t able to safely separate the people in the video?”

MJ: "Hell no. Same brain! Or part of brain, but yeah. Like those guys from the Circus way back when. Just an inch of skin kept em together, but they shared a liver."

Pete: “Oh! Um...dangit what were their names...Chang and Eng!”

MJ: "There's a reason I love ya."

Pete: Pete tried and failed to hide his smile. “My recall ability for names?”

MJ: "Ya know your freaks."

Pete: “I do what I can. Didn’t Chang and Eng have like a dozen kids?”

MJ: "Think so, yeah. Ain't gonna let an inch of skin stop em."

Pete: “An inch of skin and a liver.” He shook his head in awe. “Fucking incredible. I wonder if being conjoined gave them any abilities. Seems like the kinda thing that would.”

MJ: "Abilities? What, like you?"

Pete: “Not necessarily. Something non-Fera related. Something...I don’t know, magical. Possibly psychic.”

MJ: "Ya got an imagination on ya. That's for sure."

Pete: “I blame Graham’s books,” he chuckled. “Been reading a lot of them.”

MJ: "Graham?"

Pete: “My nephew.”

MJ: "Ah. Graham Graham. Of course."

Pete: “Yeah. He loves him a bedtime story. Can’t tell you how many times we’ve read Alice in Wonderland.”

MJ: "Ya know, I get I fit the description of people that'd like it, but nah."

Pete: “Mad hatters and hares and magic potions not your thing?”

MJ: "Vampire ruined it for me."

Pete: “First time Stella read it to Graham he painted all their roses red. She was horrified, Callum was tickled pink.”

MJ: "Ha." Reminded him of Brett. Left a taste in his mouth.

"What cha wanna do now?"

Pete: “I picked the walk and the turtle. Your turn. Or Abel’s if he wants to take one.”

MJ: "What cha wanna do, Abe?"

Abel: “Hmmm....” Abel thought for a moment. “I need a snack. And a cherry coke. And possibly some rainbow sherbet.”

MJ: "So we raid the Walmart?"

Abel: “Yes!” Abel said brightly. “I love Walmart!”

MJ: "That's about the most trash thing ya ever said. Don't ever let X hear ya say that."

Abel: “He loves Walmart, too, he owns a crap ton of stock.”

MJ: "That ain't the same as love. Trust me."

Abel: “Walmart keeps our Xavier in the Armani suits and it keeps us in cherry coke and rainbow sherbet. And chips.”

MJ: That reminded him, he should check on his own stock before sunrise. Another one of X's bits of advice. Same as his father. A truck driver with more stock than he knew what to do with. He wondered how his old man was.

"Walmart can keep ya in the chips without the stock, I promise ya that."

Abel: “Yeah, you’re probably right. This whole country loves it. So are we going?”

MJ: You have no idea what I mean and that's cute.

"Yeppers." He looked to Peter with a smile. "Comin'?"

Pete: Pete smiled and nodded. “Sure! I could go for a cherry coke. How are we getting there?”

MJ: "I dunno how to fly a broom yet, so..."

Abel: “I can take us!” Abel piped in. “I already know where it is, I saw it one day when I was exploring. Everyone take a hand.”

MJ: "Careful with Peter; he's a delicate honey bear."

Pete: “I’ve teleported before,” Pete said as he took Abel’s hand. “Feels like getting squeezed through a straw on a tilt-a-whirl.”

MJ: "More druid stuff?"

Pete: “Another familiar.”

MJ: "How many familiars ya know?"

Pete: “Just one other. Callum’s cousin has one.”

MJ: "Huh." Abel's hand was given a squeeze. "So why ain't Callum got - why were ya flyin' around?"

Pete/Abel: “I needed to take a trip to New Orleans to visit someone.”

Abel squeezed both their hands. “Okay, you two, enough chit chat. I need sherbet! Ready?”

MJ: "Ready." He wasn't taking his breath. What would be the point? "What friend in - I didn't know ya had people there."

Pete/Abel: “Ready,” Pete echoed.

“All rightie. MJ, hold that thought. Petey, deep breath.” Abel held their hands to his chest and transported them across town to the Walmart. This time of night, there would be no one around to notice three men appearing out of thin air.

MJ: Still, MJ looked around. A hand came to rest on Peter's chest as though to steady him.

"Gonna puke?"

Pete: Pete, whose eyes were squeezed shut, held up a finger. He was trying to take deep even breaths to settle his body.

MJ: "Boy I'm sure glad I don't have to deal with that shit." Abel was given an appreciative smack to his shoulder.

"A trucker's feast, huh? Let's get ya some chips."

Pete/Abel: A few more moments and Pete finally opened his eyes.

“All right, I’m good. Let’s get junk food.”

Abel didn’t have to be told twice. He practically skipped into the store and led them first to the frozen section for sherbet.

MJ: MJ waited for Peter to fall into step with. His arm draped over his wide shoulders and squeezed.

"So back to New Orleans. Talk."

Pete: “Oh, right. Well, I don’t exactly have family there. Callum’s cousin is there and she’s my friend but mostly I went to visit the grave of my previous incarnation. Clarke.”

MJ: "Goddamn every single time ya speak ya got some sorta life changin' adventure. What the fuck did ya just say to me?"

Pete: Pete couldn’t help but laugh. “I guess I do, huh? I found my previous incarnation in Paris. In a photo, obviously, not in person.”

MJ: "How did ya chain them events together?"

Pete: “I didn’t at first. Took a few weeks before the chaining really got going.”

MJ: "Gonna explain in detail?"

Pete: “I don’t have to if you don’t want to. I know this is the kinda thing no one but me cares about.”

MJ: "I mean, sure. I'm more curious 'bout how ya found it. Sounds like a huge coincidence."

Pete: “It kinda was. Coincidence or fate, if you wanna look at it that way. I was in the exact right place at the exact right time. Walked by a frame shop right as the owner was placing a frame with his photo in the window.”

MJ: MJ looked ahead for Abel, stumbled a bit on his own feet, pushing into Peter. "And ya knew who it was?"

Pete: Pete immediately reached out to steady him. “Not then. All I knew was that something about the photo struck a chord and drew me in. So I bought it and after asking the owner if she had more photos of him, I bought those too.”

MJ: "Why she have a bunch of old photos? People buy that shit?" His mouth bunched to one side. "I dunno 'bout fate. Just seems too specific." He shrugged. "Anyway go on."

Pete: “It was a frame shop, she has a lot of random photos. She thought it was a shame for them to be in a box somewhere so she used them for her displays. She knew him, you see. Her brother had taken the photographs and she’d gotten them after he passed.”

MJ: MJ's brows began to knit. "Fuckin' how old was your past self? When was this shit?"

Pete: “Clarke died in 1981. He was thirty-one.”

MJ: "...Well, ya lived longer this time."

Pete: Pete nodded. “Yeah. Feel some kinda way about that.”

MJ: "What, worry or somethin'?"

Pete: “He was too damn young to die.”

MJ: Peter guided them for a row of bagged chips and processed dips, jerkies and candy bars, while MJ stared at him.

Pete: He forced a smile and brought himself back to the moment.

“Yeah, so. That’s how I found my reincarnation.”

MJ: "You're one of them people that loves themself."

Pete: “Not in a romantic way. Or a ‘gee, I’m so great’ way. Finding him was like finding a friend I’d lost. Made me feel less lonely.”

MJ: "I think I know what ya mean, but," he shrugged. "Guess I'd have to meet a me to know. That me don't exist."

Pete: “Reading his journals is the closest I’ll get to meeting him.”

MJ: "Maybe not. There's magick for everything. Depends what you're willin' to pay."

Pete: He shook his head. “This is the way it is. He died and now I’m here and someday I’ll go and there will be another link in the chain. Journals and some memories are more than so many people get of their past lives.”

MJ: "So, what, ya gonna start writin' journals for your future self?"

Pete: “I already have.”

MJ: MJ looked around for Abel. Nodded to him. "What ya think of that? Would ya love yourself?"

Pete/Abel: Abel had found a basket and was already busy filling it with gloriously unhealthy things.

“If I was a decent person then sure, I don’t see why not,” he said with a nod and a shrug. “Pete’s right, most people don’t get to learn about their past incarnations. It’s rare.”

MJ: "Fuckin' 'if'? You're an 'if'?" He laughed. Abel was about as chaotic as himself, but the admission, intentional or otherwise, tickled him.

"Ya 'bout done?"

Abel: “Hey, you never know. Past me could’ve been a dick.”

Abel looked down at his basket. “Just about. Still need cherry coke.”

MJ: "Next aisle." Memory from his previous employment. Felt like yesterday since he'd worn that stupid fucking vest.

Better to work for and with Xavier. For himself.

"Why ya feel like ya needed him? You're him. Was it like... findin' yourself?"

Pete/Abel: Abel moved away under the pretext of the soda and left them to talk.

Pete sighed. “I was going through a rough time when I learned about Clarke. Couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, felt the worst about myself that I ever have. He gave me hope. Comfort.”

MJ: "Rough because of that night?"

Pete: “It was a lot of things. Too many things all at once.”

MJ: "Sounds too easy."

Pete: “What does?”

MJ: "That answer. I dunno. Don't really like vague answers with close people. Strangers, not close."

Pete: “Well, that night happened. My dad nearly died. Found out he wasn’t really my dad after I tried to donate blood to keep him from dying. Had my private business out in the open for several weeks and was constantly bombarded with it. That specific enough?”

MJ: MJ watched, patiently. "Ya angry?"

Pete: Pete sighed. “No. But me saying it was a lot of things all at once wasn’t a cop-out. It’s me not wanting to give that whole spill of misery.”

MJ: "S'misery I wanna hear. S'misery I helped make. S'you. Talk for hours. Yell for hours. I don't give a fuck. It's you."

Pete: He didn’t quite know how to feel about that. There weren’t many people in his life that had ever given him carte blanche to yell or express his feelings with abandon. It was as foreign as it was touching.

“...Thanks. Walmart probably isn’t the ideal place for that kind of conversation though. Suffice it to say, I was having a really shitty time mentally and emotionally and learning about Clarke made it less shitty.”

MJ: "Ah shit, we've heard worse here. We're like Olive Garden. 'When you're here, your family.' N'shit."

MJ bumped into Peter's shoulder again. Something to pull him away. He stretched his shoulders and looked around the neighboring aisle for the familiar.

"Wanna see somethin'?"

Pete: “I’m positive that’s true but the aforementioned having my private business out there situation has made me a little more careful with where I have those conversations.”

Pete smiled and pointed out Abel, who’d made his way to the cracker aisle. “Sure. What kinda something?”

MJ: "Somethin' fun. Learned t'fuck with Abel over the years." Years. He'd never said that out loud before. What had been of their relationship was a toddler's age. People changed. His transformation was not much different than the man beside him. A beast in a man. A beast of a man.

"Watch him." A laser line of red whizzed past Abel's feet and over the nearby box of Ritz. The line returned from under the shelving and split off into three.

Abel: Abel, blissfully unaware of MJ's schemes, was on a single-minded hunt for Goldfish.

Well. Relatively single-minded was probably more accurate, because the sudden appearance of red light had his attention immediately. No matter how many times this gag was pulled on him, it was impossible to resist. He had to find and hunt down the lasers!

MJ: MJ bit against his cheek, helping conceal his laughter all of three seconds before bursting with a pfft and a snort.

Pete: Pete wasn't far behind; it was impossible not to laugh. "He really is a dog, isn't he?"

MJ: "Yep. Down to wantin' scratches behind his ear n'his leg kickin'."

The red lasers disappeared under the fat dairy fridges.

Pete/Abel: "Is he allergic to chocolate too? Or does his having a human form cancel that out?" He shook his head. "The whole having a human and animal form thing is still new to me. Not looking forward to being exhausted all winter."

Abel was helpless to follow the lasers as far as he could. It was a good thing the store was deserted this time of night because a grown man peering under the fridges definitely would've raised some questions.

MJ: The camera was brought out. Making a short video for the Atlas staff and family to enjoy. Priceless.

"Abe! Have I seen ya eat chocolate 'fore?"

Abel: Abel looked up like he'd been caught with a hand in the cookie jar. "Huh? Chocolate--what?"

MJ: "Will it kill ya?"

Abel: "Chocolate? Only in dog form."

MJ: "Well, there ya go. Let's get a chocolate pretzel. Lemme live vicariously."

Pete/Abel: “Okay!” He took one last look under the fridges—just in case—and got to his feet. “They’re usually with the candy and nuts.”

“They are,” Pete confirmed.

MJ: Peter's shoulder was given a gentle nudge. "Ya gettin' somethin'?"

Pete/Abel: “My cherry coke aaaaand....Goldfish. And hot fries.”

“I got us Goldfish!” Abel called over his shoulder. “Knew you seemed like a Goldfish kinda guy.”

MJ: "The fuck are hot fries?"

Pete: "The far superior sibling of hot cheetos."

MJ: "I... was a cheese puffs kid. Nah. Take that back. Bugles."

Pete: "Well then let's find some Bugles so you can live even more vicariously."

MJ: "I already up chucked once tonight."

Pete: "Once is enough. I'll bravely eat them for you."

MJ: "Smellin' em is enough. I need candles of my old faves."

Pete: "I know someone who makes candles, if that's a serious request. I'm sure she could do something."

MJ: "She make candles smell like root beer and Bugles?"

Pete: "I don't think anyone's ever made a Bugle candle, but if anyone can, it's her."

MJ: "Druid?"

Pete: Pete nodded. "Yep. Callum's cousin Bronwyn. She owns a shop, sells candles and trinkets and witchy things."

MJ: "For real witchy or tourist witchy?"

Pete: "Tourist witchy on the surface, real witchy if you know what to look for. Gotta fly under the radar."

MJ: "Wanna take a look at that later, Abe?"

Abel: "Yeah!" As their snack haul had officially outgrown their basket, Abel divided the overflow between MJ and Pete's arms. "Did you want vicarious root beer, too, MJ? Or just the Bugles?"

MJ: "I can swish that shit and spit it out. Let's just go with Bugles."

Abel: Abel made a face. "Yeah, you definitely need a root beer candle. That's just wrong."

MJ: "What's wrong is that leech in Chicago chewin' tobacco."

Abel: "Ugh, god, the spitting can. Why not just vape like everyone else?"

MJ: "I love that you're offended."

Abel: "Spitting. Can. Spitting can, MJ."

MJ: "Angry puppers."

Abel: "I'd rather have to breathe in a cloud of cigarette reek than watch a grown ass man with ugly teeth spit into a Budweiser can."

MJ: "Have ya seen them motherfuckers vapin'? The look on their fuckin' millennial-Z faces?"

Abel: "At least they're not spitting into cans. I'll take them over that."

MJ: "Tryin'a think of worse. Can't think of anything but them people that ate mummies."

Pete: "Okay, all right, enough spit and mummies," said Pete, making a face himself. "Only snack talk allowed. Let's go get the cokes."

MJ: "But mummies were snacks," MJ grinned.

Pete: "Not for us, they're not."

MJ: "Bet Guildias did it once."

Pete: "Now you're just being a troll."

MJ: "What? Think he wouldn't?"

Abel: "Moratorium on mummies, please," said Abel. "We're having such a nice day, I'd rather not have any more cursed images in my head."

MJ: "Any more? What else ya got in there?"

Abel: "Spitting. Can."

MJ: "In all your forty years, that's the worst?"

Abel: "It's up there."

MJ: "What's the worst?"

Abel: "Very drunk middle-aged lady answering the call of nature in a very gross men's bathroom in Berlin. Except she wasn't using the toilet."

MJ: "How d'ya find this shit?" A certain word in that question had him biting his cheeks.

Abel: “Xavier was meeting a guy about a certain cursed artifact.” That last said in a whisper.

MJ: "Hope it wasn't her."

Abel: “God, no. She just happened to be there at the same time.”

MJ: "I think Peter needs a dangerous night with us. Soon."

Pete: "What does a dangerous night with the two of you entail?" Pete asked, squinting.

MJ: "Goin' wherever we want, take whatever we want. Robin Hood or Punisher."

Pete: "Sounds like a barrel of laughs. I'm sure the two of you don't want a wet blanket like me tagging along."

MJ: "What would a wet blanket do?"

Pete: "Request that you don't take whatever you want because...the law."

MJ: "Did ya forget ya dated a thief?"

Pete: "No, I didn't forget. I also never went with you, or I would've requested that you don't take whatever you want because the law."

MJ: "Just a paladin ya are."

Pete: "A what now?"

MJ: Peter was given a look.

Pete: "What?"

MJ: "Ya hang with druids... and don't know what word?"

Pete: "Can't remember hearing it from them. This something that I should add to my notebook?"

MJ: "I mean, I got it from a video game."

Pete: Pete shrugged. "Video games use real things all the time, they just don't know it. Maybe some do."

MJ: "Ya seriously never heard the word 'paladin'?"

Pete: He shook his head. "I don't think so, no. What does it mean?"

MJ: "Ya know, the heroic knight that doesn't budge from his noble cause!"

Pete: "Ah, so the modern-day wet blanket," he chuckled.

MJ: The smile MJ gave was private. Something for the two of them as they lagged behind.

"Ya just ain't punk anymore. That I see. Prove me wrong."

Pete: Pete snorted. "Was I ever punk? Doubt it."

MJ: "Of course ya were. Ya punched people out. Ya shouted. Ya locked me out the bar with fuckin' garlic. We made scenes in the bar with Budweiser n'lil umbrellas."

Pete: "Every single one of the people I punched had it coming." He smiled. "Locking you out with garlic counts as punk?"

MJ: "About the most punk bitch thing ya did to me."

Pete: Pete laughed. "I ever tell you Peabody sat me down and lectured me about how I handle trouble at the pub? I tell you, if he ever has kids, his dad voice is gonna be legendary."

MJ: "Didn't think he'd give a shit."

Pete: "Only when the people I punched went to tell on me."

MJ: "So what he say?"

Pete: "Don't break the tourists, use your words, did I wanna get sued, stop making paperwork for him."

MJ: "Fuckin' pussies," he muttered under his breath.

Pete: “Some people have no business drinking in public. Or even being in public.”

MJ: "Some people don't deserve the things they got. S'what I'm for," he smiled.

Pete: Pete chuckled. "The vampiric Robin Hood, dispensing karma to the arrogant."

MJ: "Goddamn right."

Pete: "What is your latest heroic act, Robin Hood?"

MJ: "Heroic?" MJ glanced to Abel.

Pete: Pete grinned. “Robin Hood was a hero, kinda. Depending on who you ask.”

MJ: "Still give t'Kenna. Gave to a uh, no-kill shelter. Well, Abe gave to em. Daylight hours."

Pete: “Both worthy causes,” he said with a nod.

MJ: "I don't even remember mentionin' her."

Pete/Abel: "It was a long, long time ago."

Abel, for his part, was busy grinning to himself and picking up any snacks that seemed interesting as they walked. This had been such a good idea, they were going to eat great. Not healthy at all, but great.

"Are we ready to check out?" he asked them. "Do we need anything at home?"

MJ: "Uh, nah. I don't need... anything." Still trying to remember his mention of his sister, as well as a sudden urge to extract that information from Peter. The not knowing suddenly mattered. Ah. Of course. He understood now.

"What I say about her?"

Pete: Pete shrugged. "Just that you had a sister and that her name was Kenna, like Callum's aunt. Nothing beyond that. You really don't remember?"

MJ: "Nah. My memory ain't that perfect. I remember every time we swam, though."

Pete: He ducked his head and smiled. "Yeah, I remember that, too. I'm an even better swimmer now. Good fisher too."

MJ: "Better fuckin' be. Ya got no excuses now," he smiled.

The cashier lady was someone new. Another little reminder of how long it had been since working here. Never again.

Cash was pulled from pocket, intent on paying for both.

Pete/Abel: Abel gently smacked MJ's hand away. "No no no, put that back where it came from. I got this."

Pete's hand would be given similar treatment when it ventured to reach for his wallet.

MJ: "The fuck ya smackin' me for? It all comes from the same place!"

Abel: "It's the principle!" He pulled out his shiny new credit card and put it in the chip reader before he could be stopped.

MJ: "Cards. Pfft." Abel's hair was given a rough tangling.

Abel: "Heyyyyy!" Abel tried and failed to squirm away. "X said we have to use it every now and then."

MJ: "S'how he keeps tabs on ya."

Abel: "He can do that anyway."

MJ: "The man doesn't put all his eggs in one basket."

Abel: "He has a zillion baskets. Thanks!" he added to the cashier, taking the card back and splitting the shopping bags between the three of them.

MJ: MJ looked into his appointed bag and frowned. "Food don't smell the same. Don't taste the same. I don't wanna look at gazpacho n'grilled cheese again. It'll be fucked."

Abel: Abel patted MJ’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, buddy. I won’t let those get ruined for you.”

MJ: The vampire scoffed. "Least X don't like paella. Ain't had that fucked."

Abel: “Nope, he’s a fancy ham kinda guy. We’re not though! Where are we going to eat our feast of champions?”

MJ: "I know some docks we can borrow." Seemed too late at night for a certain someone to be awake.

Abel: “Cool. Think of the place, everyone grab an arm.”

MJ: MJ linked an arm with Peter's. He was warm tonight, as though recently fed.

What he had in mind was Callum MacGillivray's dock. Private enough, with the exception of a druid that might or might not be home. Might or might not be asleep. More besides, Peter could feel safe here, as a kind of home turf.

Pete: It didn't go unnoticed by Pete. For a brief moment, he forgot entirely that MJ was a vampire and attributed his warmth simply to him.

Letting MJ guide him, Abel transported them to what he'd initially thought was one of the docks by all the other docks, but this looked like someone liv--

"Callum's house?" Pete asked once they'd arrived and he managed to open his eyes.

MJ: "What he won't know what hurt him." MJ winked, heading out to the very edge of the dock.

Pete: Pete chuckled and shook his head. “He’s asleep anyway. Always goes to bed early when he’s working on an event.”

MJ: "What's the event now?"

Pete: "Some charity dinner thing."

MJ: Away with the black sneakers, removed with his feet as he walked, left behind as he reached the edge and took a seat.

"Some charity thing ya believe in?"

Pete: "I don't even remember what it is. I wanna say it was something school related? Or maybe book related?"

He joined MJ and began looking through the bags for his hot fries.

MJ: Away with the leather jacket. March be damned, he was preparing for a swim. Socks followed, tossed over his shoulder.

"They do that winter gala thing this year?"

Pete: "They did, yeah," Pete opened his bag of chips and took a handful. "It was a big hit as usual."

MJ: "They need, like, a summer cocktail party... thing."

Pete: "There's the fireworks and stuff for the Fourth of July."

MJ: "Not the same as a little black dress."

Abel: "A little black dress goes against the spirit of summer!" Abel said around a huge mouthful of rainbow sherbet.

MJ: "A red, white, n'blue dress with bitchin' heels."

Pete/Abel: "They can throw a beach party for the Fourth of July!"

"They kinda do," said Pete.

MJ: "I just got put into a suit. Chicago. I actually have a suit now."

Pete: Pete grinned. "Yeah? Can't picture you in a suit."

MJ: "Looks like I'm goin' to a funeral."

Abel: "It does not! Don't let him fool you, Pete." Abel gestured with his plastic spoon. "He looks all respectable like."

MJ: "I didn't even try! Just let X pick it out."

Abel: "You let the man with a closet full of fancy bespoke suits pick a suit for you." He gestured again. "You were going to look fancy and respectable no matter what."

MJ: "Still ready for a funeral. Didn't even wear the tie."

Away with the shirt, now.

Abel: "The tie makes you look like an investment banker," Abel giggled. "Or a hedge fund manager."

MJ: "Don't put that shit on me. Just cause I got money don't mean I gotta dress like the dead."

Abel: "Investment bankers and hedge fund managers are alive!"

MJ: "Not on the inside. Their blood is shit, too."

Pete: "Have you ever fed from one?" Pete asked.

MJ: "Just one. Before Edenton."

Pete: "And they tasted....bad?"

MJ: A nod. "He was also fat, and I couldn't find a vein for shit. She had to do it."

Abel: Abel took another enormous bite of ice cream. "Stick to the athletes, man. Gotta get your vitamins."

MJ: "Vitamins and veins." With that in mind, a backwards fall into the quiet water.

Pete: Pete glanced back toward the house, half expecting Callum to have sensed their presence and woken up.

There was no need for concern; the windows remained dark.

"How's the water?" he asked.

MJ: Dark hair had immediately matted in his face, curtained his eyes. "Good enough for a swim. For the dead. Dip a toe in."

Pete: "Eh, why not." Pete put his chips aside and set about taking his shoes off and rolling up his jeans.

This time of year the water was still fairly cold, but he didn't mind. He'd gone swimming in the dead of winter before.

MJ: "Fuck yeah. Hop in, Abe! I'll throw ya a stick!"

Abel: Abel stuck his hand in the water and pulled it out immediately. "It's freezing!"

MJ: "You're a dog!"

Abel: "Dogs still feel the cold!"

MJ: "Tell that to a Saint Bernard!"

Abel: "They're huge!"

MJ: MJ opened his mouth, ready for a dirty throwback before thinking better of it, sinking into the water instead.

Abel: Abel squinted. "I see your mind going in the gutter there," he called as MJ slipped beneath the surface. "I see it!"

MJ: A middle finger emerged from the depths.

Pete/Abel: “Wow, rude. And in front of Pete.” He leaned closer to Pete and whispered, “Do you think he can hear us down there?”

Pete chuckled and whispered back, “We probably sound a little muffled.”

MJ: MJ watched from below, sinking further to the bottom. The instinctual fear felt back in 2010 nothing but memory. A little unspoken merit to unlife he'd never seen in film, nor read in his favorite comics.

Abel: Abel squinted and moved closer to the water. "MJ, can you hear me?" he whisper yelled.

MJ: Nope. Just muffled of what he assumed was a conversation between them. He began to feel at the bottom, looking for anything Callum might have lost over the years.

Pete: There would be more than one interesting find beneath Callum's deck.

A travel mug that had been knocked off his sailboat when the water had been particularly choppy one day. A spoon he had dropped while enjoying his morning tea on the deck. And last but not least, a dog's collar and a whistle.

MJ: All of which collected no different than a man combing the beach for shells. The items were returned to the surface and brought other deck.

"Thought y'all were gettin' in; the fuck?"

Abel: "Pete is, I'm not," said Abel. "We were testing to see if you could hear us."

MJ: "Sounds like bein' underwater." The little trinkets were pushed further from the edge.

"Get the hell in here."

Pete/Abel: Pete would resume getting undressed, but Abel remained staunch in his refusal.

He shook his head. "Nuh-uh. I'm staying up here and eating my ice cream."

MJ: "Lemme have a lick." He kept going back despite flavors being nothing from memory. Thinking, maybe this time.

Pete/Abel: Abel scooped up some sherbet and offered MJ the spoon while Pete finally dove into the river.

MJ: Just a small taste. Something he could spit out without concern.

"Mm. Nope." River water could wash that out.

Now to find Peter and pull his leg. Literally.

Pete/Abel: "Aw. That makes me sad. I'll finish the whole pint in your honor."

Pete was floating on his back and looking up at the stars, feeling utterly peaceful until a certain someone came along and gave him a yank.

"Oy!" he laughed.

MJ: "What? What happened?" he laughed.

Pete: "I see you over there playing Jaws."

MJ: "What? We gotta lot in common." Hardly a current to take them. Hard to believe this attached to the ocean eventually.

"Race ya across."

Pete: "What does the winner get?"

MJ: "What does the loser want?"

Pete: "You tell me, all I can think about is food."

MJ: "What, lemme take a bite outta ya?"

Pete: "I meant I can't think of anything the winner or loser gets because all I can think about is food."

MJ: "Don't want a bite?"

Pete: “That would be a very intimate prize,” he said carefully.

MJ: "Can be. Could be. If you're so hungry, go back to the dock. I'll declare victory."

Pete: "And forfeit the race? Hell no."

MJ: "What's Abe doin'?" And he was off! Giving his full body towards the other side of the river. No need to breathe had its advantages.

Pete/Abel: "What--hey!" Laughing, Pete slipped beneath the surface and propelled himself forward. His lung capacity was better than it had been pre-bear but he still lost time coming up for air.

Abel sat on the deck and shook his head. "Not sportsman like."

MJ/Guildias: MJ and Peter were quicky becoming specks towards the other end of the wide river.

A new scent had been taken by the breeze. An ozonic, woody, softly musk cologne reached the docks seconds before the towering figure. Long healthy-looking hair, darker than the shadows, covered each shoulder. The man squatted next to Abel in proper form, cigarette between fingers. Arms straight on his knees.

"What the trickster do this time?" asked the stranger, voice silky, local, with a hint of German.

Abel: Abel paused with the spoon halfway to his mouth and slowly lowered it.

He scented something on the air a moment before he felt the new presence, and with no time to do anything about it, all he could do was startle.

"Noth--he's--uh, hi? Hi. We're not breaking and entering!"

Guildias: "That would require breaking and entering," he replied. "Of which you've not broken, nor entered."

Abel: "Right, yes. Hi. Again. It was MJ's idea to come here, I'm just the messenger. Or...teleporter."

Guildias: "A teleporter? He's come up in the world with friends."

He watched the two in the distance, the ever-learning and the ever-running. They seemed happy.

Abel: “Well I don’t know about that, but we are friends.”

Abel took a second to study the stranger. He smelled like MJ, so definitely a vampire. A tall one, if the length of his legs was anything to go by.

Talk about tall, dark, and handsome.

“So this is your house, huh?”

Guildias: "No. The person inside asleep is mine."

Another intake of cigarette, leaning himself an inch to Abel. "Still asleep.  No harm done."

Abel: "Yeah, Pete said he would be. So you must be Callum's boyfriend or...husssband?" He didn't want to presume.

Guildias: "I am a label, yes," he smiled politely.

Abel: "Not big on those?"

Guildias: "They mean everything and nothing."

Abel: "You're not wrong." He went back to his sherbet. The scent of the smoke reminded him of his dad, which in turn was making him more than a little nostalgic.

"I'm Abel by the way."

Guildias: "Hello, Abel." Two fingers to the chest. "Guildias."

Pete: "Nice to meet you! I'd offer you some of the mountain of junk food we got, but...you know."

Guildias: "I don't feel like cleaning a mess tonight."

Abel: "Is there anything you'd like to sniff? Which is a very weird question but there you go."

MJ/Guildias: "He's not your first, is he?"

MJ shook his head like a dog, splashing water over Peter in the process. Wiped his hand down his face.

"Fuck."

Pete/Abel: "MJ? He's the first one of you guys that I've been friends with, yeah."

Pete intended to come up to take a breath only to be immediately splashed with water.

"Hey!" he chuckled.

MJ/Guildias: "So, you're young?"

"He ain't been givin' ya trouble?" asked MJ, staring off in the direction of the docks. The new long dark figure.

Pete/Abel: "Technically I'm middle-aged, I just don't look it. Although I guess compared to someone like you I'm young."

Pete glanced back toward the docks and shook his head. "Nope, none. We're not bosom buddies or anything but we get along okay."

MJ/Guildias: "Some would consider me young." A small smile. "Young is relative."

MJ just stared for a moment. He could feel his old self, that place between distaste and envy. That man was gone, but his ghost still lingered.

"You're stronger now."

Pete/Abe;: "Yeah, I guess so. Sure you wouldn't like to sniff anything? Anything your person doesn't have in his pantry, I mean."

Another glance toward Guildias. Their relationship hadn't changed too much since Pete had returned from France, but he wasn't sure how much his being a fully bloomed werebear had to do with it.

"I am, but that's incidental. Not like I'm gonna fight him or anything."

MJ/Guildias: "I've learned long ago not to indulge. Jolly Ranchers and Bazooka gum were my sweets. Something to end this," the twirled cigarette. "Didn't pan out."

MJ arched a brow, allowed the pathetic current to pull him closer. "But ya could," he smiled.

Pete/Abel: Abel smiled at the cigarette. "At least it can't hurt you anymore. What brand are those?"

Pete just smiled and shook his head. "In theory. Only fight I've been in recently is with a raccoon."

MJ/Guildias: "Camel." A brand which he had not strayed since mortality. "Certainly disturbs my clothes, according to my person."

A raccoon? The image which conjured was of a great bear pawing at a small relentless jackass of an animal. An image which had him laughing openly at his own mind.

Pete/Abel: His expression softened. "I actually liked the smell of Camels. They're the kind my father used to smoke."

"Whatever you're imagining is probably close to exactly what happened." Pete frowned. "Little asshole stole my fish."

MJ/Guildias: Guildias looked to the man at his side, head barely moving with the effort.

The cigarette was offered.

"Oh my fuckin' god!" MJ lulled his body back to float, laughter rippling the water around him.

Pete/Abel: Abel accepted it but didn't take a drag. He just wafted the smoke and felt nostalgia slam into him like an asteroid.

"Thanks," he said after a moment, giving it back.

Only the echo of raucous laughter coming from the other side of the river could pull him back.

"Sounds like they're having a ball over there," he chuckled.

Meanwhile, Pete was grinning like a lunatic. "I almost wish I was joking."

MJ/Guildias: "MJ has that power over people." The cigarette was returned to his mouth. A long slow drag of what remained, before putting out the end on the bottom of the dock; many tiny burns scattered throughout the years.

"I wonder," MJ managed after a time, "ya know, raccoon people. Or like, snake people. Or somethin'."

Pete/Abel: Abel just grinned. "He sure does. He's a good guy."

"There are definitely snake people. Not sure if there are raccoon people but I wouldn't be surprised. I think the raccoon I fought was normal, though. A normal fish thief."

MJ: "My people." If MJ were to be anyone, other than kin to the late Miss Swiss.

"How ya know about snake people?"

Pete: "Gaetan told me about all the types of Fera he knows of. There are also shark people and gator people, which is fucking insane."

MJ: "Gator people, so like..." Give him a second to consider his words. "They're the oldest? I mean... sounds right."

Pete: "I...guess? Have gators been around longer than sharks?"

MJ: "Have bugs been around longer than sharks? Wait are bugs a thing?"

Pete: "Probablyyyy? I feel like bugs maybe came first, then sharks? Who knows, man."

MJ: "Wow. You're suddenly low on that totem pole."

Pete: "On the evolutionary scale, yeah. But I'm slightly higher than I was pre-bear."

MJ: "Slightly, like a mile behind?"

Pete: "It's not much, but it's something."

MJ: "Not much between a human and a Fera? Ya kiddin' me?"

Pete: "Again, evolution scale. You ever watch Cosmos?"

MJ: "What's that?"

Pete: "A docuseries about the universe and spacetime."

MJ: "And how's that about ya bein' a bear?"

Pete: "In the whole grand scheme of time and evolution, there's not that big a leap between Fera and humans. Fera are superior, but again, not by much when you consider the whole of existence."

MJ: "What lil I fuckin' know, didn't a god make ya?"

Pete: "I think so? Who really knows. How'd we get here?" he laughed.

MJ: "A raccoon got us here."

Pete: "Oh yeah. Thieving little asshole."

MJ: "N'ya want me to see ya? Like that?"

Pete: "Getting got by a raccoon?"

MJ: "Gettin' got by a raccoon. I'll have a talk with em."

Pete: He chuckled. "My hero. But yeah, I want to share that with you. Me being a bear, the whole full moon routine."

MJ: "How long we got 'til then?"

Pete: "A few days. Full moon is on the 9th."

MJ: "Right, right." Hadn't he asked already? He just wanted to hear Peter speak. He didn't want that swim back to Guildias and the interview he knew was coming. He belonged here as much as that snake. More, now.

"Who fuckin' won this shit?" The reason for being on the other side of the river.

Pete: "Pretty sure you did," said Pete, going back to floating. "All that having to breathe slowed me down."

MJ: "Should see what the sky looks like from the bottom of the ocean. Or Lake Michigan. Walked around Lake Michigan before I got here."

Pete: "Isn't Lake Michigan also like, freezing and windy and as choppy as the ocean?"

MJ: "Fuckin' huge." The river was a great excuse to gently bump into Peter's chest.

Pete: "Isn't it also full of wrecked ships and bodies?"

MJ: "Yep. Wish ya could see."

Pete: "I think I'd avoid the bodies if I had the ability to go down there without scuba gear."

MJ: "Didn't see one. Thought I saw ... somethin' outta Swamp Thing."

Pete: "Now that does not surprise me at all."

MJ: "N'you're in this river why?"

Pete: "There are no river monsters in it. I check every month."

MJ: "Nothin'? Not even a gator thing?"

Pete: "You start getting bigger fish and things once you get out into the sound, but the river proper only has the usual things in it."

MJ: "Man, ya really should see your old man."

Pete: "He hasn't found any river monsters either as far as I know. And believe me, he would've told me. He loves shit like that."

MJ: "Wrong old man."

Pete: "Oh. My old man is Pete Graham, Sr. The other guy is just a bear sperm donor."

MJ: "C'mon, man. I still stand by what I said."

Pete: "And I stand by what I said. I've already got a dad."

MJ: "That's only a portion of your life now. Gotta expand t'somethin' that's actually you."

Taking his own advice, he started back towards the shore.

Pete: "I guess." Although, he fully considered his life and his family something that was actually him. Being a bear hadn't changed that.

But they'd already had that discussion and he didn't want to rehash it.

He'd just swim alongside MJ.

Guildias: Guildias only rose to his feet with the first splash of droplets to his arm. Bowing his back long enough to offer his hand to Peter, all but lifting the Fera wholesale from the water.

Pete/Abel: Pete offered a smile in greeting, thanking Guildias as he helped--lifted--him out of the river. He didn't see that strength often but when he did, it always caught him off guard.

"So who won the race?" Abel asked.

"MJ did."

Guildias: "Are you a betting man?" Guildias asked Peter. "You could have won, had your opponent not been an athlete in his former life."

Pete/Abel: “I’m an athlete now,” he chuckled. “I just have to breathe.”

Abel nodded sagely. “Breathing will get you every time.”

MJ/Guildias: "I mean to say, you might have stood a chance against a one of those other clans."

MJ just laughed, arms folded over the dock, still floating at the current's mercy.

"I've seen a fat Rav."

Abel: “You have?” Abel’s face lit with interest. The whole clan thing was fascinating. “When?”

MJ: "With Simon. The step-sire...asshole."

Abel: Abel made a face. He didn't know much about MJ's step-sire, but what he did know was enough to make him dislike him.

"Ugh. What was the other Ravnos like? Could you beat him up?"

MJ: "Looked like an old Romanian biker with a gimp in his basement. Hell fuckin' no."

Abel: He threw his head back and laughed. "You could've taken him! You're squirrely!"

MJ: "The fuck ya just say to me?"

Abel: "You're squirrely! Wiley! Like the coyote, only more successful!"

Guildias: Peter was given a look from Guildias. This was your choice? The man threatening to pounce and "put the pup in his place", was it?

Pete/Abel: Pete didn't notice; he was too busy grinning and laughing at Abel and MJ.

Yes, this was absolutely his choice.

"It was a compliment!" Abel laughed, scooching out of grabbing range.

MJ/Guildias: "I'm going to kick you in and end all of this if you don't quiet down." A threat and promise which put a smile on MJ's face.

"I sure missed your broodin' face, Aloysius."

"Ah, there you are, Victoria."

Abel: Abel's brow furrowed. "Aloysius? I thought your name was Guildias."

MJ/Guildias: "First names and surnames."

"Can't you tell he's prior military?"

Abel: "All we talked about is junk food and being old."

MJ: "How can ya say that? You're practically a baby."

Abel: "Pfft, I'm older than everyone here except Guildias."

MJ/Guildias: Guildias simply smiled. "Seniority has its perks. I suppose you're not really in your thirties anymore. What was the Victorian age like?"

"I danced scandalously with your grandmother."

Abel: "Wasn't everything scandalous back then?" Abel set the ice cream aside in favor of some chips.

MJ: "Like ya wouldn't believe," scoffed MJ.

Abel: “Now nothing is scandalous. We’ve seen so many billboards for strip clubs on our road trip.”

MJ/Guildias: "Some things. Some circles. Even our circle."

MJ shook his head, splayed out over the dock to stare up at the stairs, fists to his forehead.

Guildias crouched once more, lower back leaned against the pillar.

Abel: "Not as...nitpicky though. Things that are scandalous now are actually scandalous and sometimes kinda fucked up. The Victorians wouldn't let people show ankles."

MJ/Guildias: "It was nuance. What else do ya show? Ya represent your family. No internet but way better magnifyin' glass."

"What do you recall?" Guildias watched the fledgling. Or was this now a neonate?

"Honestly?" Hands dropped to his stomach.

"Morocco. London. Matheus going by Frederick. New York."

Pete/Abel: Pete wasn't sure he liked this conversation, but that was more than likely lingering distaste for the woman that had assaulted him and thrown his best friend off a balcony.

He was as glad that MJ was okay as he was irked that she hadn't died completely.

"Who's Matheus?" Abel asked. He on the other hand, was fascinated.

MJ: "Mm - Victoria's partner. Ya hear them stories about Jack the Ripper? He was the detective on the case. Had visions of murders. Already insane before a Malkavian sunk their teeth in."

Abel: His eyes went wide. "Wait, did he know who it was?"

MJ: MJ smiled. A smile of a man with an answer. A smile that would not have been before the merge.

"History's got it wrong. All the assumptions."

Abel: "So it wasn't someone with medical training?"

MJ: Another smile. Two personalities with a love of secrets and mystery. There would be no budging.

Abel: "AH HA! I KNEW IT WAS SOME RANDO!"

MJ: "Stew in it, baby."

Abel: "I feel vindicated."

MJ: "I didn't say shit!"

Abel: "Ah, but you did!"

MJ: "Ya think I did."

Abel: "You totally did and you can't take it back now."

MJ/Guildias: "What ya think I did?"

"There's the old trickster," Guildias smiled to himself.

Abel: "You said history's got all the assumptions wrong, the most popular of which is that someone with medical knowledge killed those women. As such, people assumed it had to have been a doctor."

MJ: "Ya can think it's Lewis Carroll or a butcher. Ya won't be spot on."

Abel: “I don’t know who it was. My best guess is either some psycho or some supernatural psycho.”

MJ: "Human."

Abel: “Figures. It’s something a human psycho would do.”

MJ: "I'll let ya stew in it." Peter was given a wink.

Abel: “No stewing here!” Abel said cheerfully, going for some Goldfish. “Only vindication.”

MJ: "Tell Peter what happens to his missin' socks n'let him feel vindicated."

Pete/Abel: “Sock goblins,” Abel said to Pete.

“Sock...goblins?”

MJ: "There's more."

Pete: “More sock goblins?” Pete asked.

MJ: "More reasons!"

Pete: "What reasons do the sock goblins have?"

MJ: "Nanana. I mean more than sock goblins."

Pete: "Oh! There's more reasons socks disappear?"

MJ: "Yes! Lots of shit loves socks. It ain't you."

Pete: "Feels like it's me. So why do the goblins and other things steal socks?"

MJ: "Abe's the expert, not me."

Pete/Abel: "They don't steal--well, the goblins do," said Abel. "But sometimes there are portals and things like loose change and lost socks fall into them and disappear into the Umbra."

Pete blinked. "...Portals."

"Magic portals!"

MJ/Guildias: "Into the Umbra."

"That's too advanced for Peter," Guildias frowned.

"It ain't your call. He's a big ol' bear. Can learn what he wants."

Pete/Abel: Pete was looking at all of them with a furrowed brow. "So you're telling me...that the reason my socks disappear...is because they're stolen by goblins and sometimes fall into magic portals to the Umbra."

Abel nodded. "Yeah! Do you feel magic in your house?"

"Not really?"

"Then it's probably goblins."

MJ: MJ nodded sagely. There you have it.

"Heard about that one kid in Raleigh. Playin' hide-n-seek with his sister. Always hides in the dryer. One day they were playin', then he's just gone. Could be other shit, but what ya wanna bet he's on the other side?"

Pete: "So portals can just appear anywhere and take a whole child?!"

MJ: "Been on my mind. The kid. I think we can do somethin' about it. I wanna do somethin' about it."

Pete: "Is it possible to do something? Can people come back from the Umbra?"

MJ: "Why not? How rare is a one-way door? What ya wanna bet it ain't goblins givin' back socks."

Pete: Pete turned to Guildias. "Ever heard of someone going to the Umbra and coming back?"

Guildias: "You really want to know?"

Pete: "I'd like to have realistic expectations for finding this kid and whether or not he'd be okay when we found him."

Guildias: "Would you rather his parents bury an empty casket?"

Pete: "I'd rather his parents have him back, I just don't want to go in blind."

Guildias: "Blind is the Umbra, but not those within. The other side is more than a single realm. It's inconceivable... but penetrable. Especially to your people. So go the tales."

Pete: "So it's theoretically possible to go in, find this kid, and bring him home to his parents?"

Guildias: "I'm not going to say yes or no. It doesn't work that way."

Pete: "How does it work?"

Guildias: "Schrodinger's cat."

Pete: "Oh good," he sighed. "....Is it possible to get someone out of the Umbra from outside the Umbra?"

MJ/Guildias: "Can you pull something out water without touching it by any means?"

"What d'ya know, Abe?"

Abel: Abel answered for Pete. "Sure you can. With a fishing pole or a net or a scoop of some kind. I haven't ever looked into it, but that's where I'd lay my bets. Magical scoop. Or rather magic as a scoop."

Guildias: "'By any means'," the vampire chuckled. While normally disinterested in those outside of his circle, familiars were within the exception.

"If you're serious about your rescue operation, you should speak with Gertrude Draegan."

Pete/Abel: "Well now, there's a difference between touching the water or getting into the water and just getting wet. Nuance is key here."

Pete shook his head. "Absolutely I am not going to do that."

MJ: "I'll do it," said MJ. "I owe her a visit."

Pete: "Why does she have to be involved at all?"

MJ: "Manners. Gotta do that manners thing, babe."

Pete: "The manners thing can be done without bringing up our magical Umbra scooping venture."

Guildias: "Then the Malkavian?" Guildias suggested with two fingers.

Pete: Pete pointed at Abel. "We've got Abel, we're sorted as Callum says."

Guildias: "My knowledge is limited but not barren. If I don't assist, Callum will not be forgiving."

Pete: "You and Abel then. And Callum. Sorted."

Guildias: "Dawn, dusk, full moons and moonless nights are preferable. I'm not fireproof, and neither is that one. The sooner the better, if Schrodinger's cat has any chance."

Pete: “How long ago did the kid disappear?” Pete asked MJ.

MJ: "Two-ish days ago."

Pete/Abel: “How soon can you find a magical scoop?” he asked Abel.

“I won’t know until I get into it but I have a deep well to draw from.”

MJ/Guildias: "Let's get started, then. Humans got, what, a month before they starve? Less if he - does it matter on the other side? I've only seen people grab shit from it. Gertrude, actually."

"She operates on a different aspect, if you hadn't noticed."

Abel: "Time doesn't work the same way in the Umbra," said Abel. "It's a lot more fluid and abstract, but sooner is still definitely better."

MJ: "Mmkay." MJ got to his feet, snatched up his clothes. "Ya said Cal, both of ya. We addin' him?"

Pete: “Maybe?” said Pete. “He might know about some magic that could help. Or his cousin might.”

Guildias: "A party of five. How could this go wrong?" Guildias smirked.

Abel: Abel gestured with his spoon. “Positive thoughts, my guy.”

Guildias: "We'll best be a party of four; Callum's schedule is otherwise occupied."

Pete: “He’ll be upset if we don’t at least tell him about it. And I really think he might know something that could help,” Pete added.

Guildias: "Yes, but not to bring."

Pete/Abel: "All right, fair enough." That was really Callum's call but he'd let it be for now. They didn't even have anywhere to bring anyone yet.

Abel took another bite of ice cream and put the carton away. "We should get back. Scooby Dooby Do, we've got some work to do now."

MJ/Guildias: "That is perhaps the most untactful declaration of rescue I've ever heard."

MJ simply smiled. "I mean, he's a dog. That's like his thing."

Abel: “Hey! My declaration of rescue will be very tactful! This is my declaration of research.”

MJ/Guildias: "On that eccentric note, I will return. I know where to find you."

The tall Setite was saluted. A wink for good measure.

"Tomorrow night," MJ called to the back of Guildias' raised hand.

Abel: "It was nice to meet you!" Abel called after him, and interestingly enough, he meant it.

Once the three of them were alone again he said, "He seems nice for a vampire."

MJ: MJ looked over to Peter, raised a brow. "What ya think of that statement?"

Pete: Pete shrugged. "He has his moments."

MJ: "We'll leave it there." Time to hop on his feet while lacing his shoes.

Abel: "I sense a story there but we'll leave that for another time." He paused for a beat. "Should we call X?"

MJ: "This gonna be a whole coterie thing, or just us? Already got that back there with us."

Abel: "Maybe not a whole coterie thing, but can you think of any other person who might know how to scoop someone out of the Umbra?"

MJ: "Peter done said no. Simon, maybe. More than maybe. The maybe is me. What ya wanna bet Cal knows some witches?"

Pete/Abel: "Peter is still firm on the demon front," Pete chimed in. "And yeah, I think Cal does."

Abel nodded. "All right, no X. Oh! What about Ramsay? He knows all kinds of shit."

MJ: "No X, no Cal, no Gertrude, no Matheus - your makin' that list short."

Pete: "Hey, Guildias said no Cal, not me. I think it's Cal's call but that's just me."

MJ: "I mean, if I told ya no I hope ya listen."

Pete: "It's been suggested that I'm dangerously reckless and stubborn."

MJ: "One of the worst. Cal takes the cake."

Pete: "He's Scottish, it's congenital."

MJ: "I mean, that's like sayin' I get a pass flirtin' for bein' Spanish."

Abel: "Are the Spanish known for flirting?" asked Abel.

MJ: "You're older than me. And lived a piss stream away."

Abel: "Bergen is more than a piss stream away from Spain."

MJ: "Closer than America." And this is how conversation went between the two of them. All across America and it was this. Some subject with bickering. Some subject with many tangents. It was a wonder they knew so much of each other.

Pete/Abel: Pete just couldn't help but smile at the pair of them and their banter. He imagined this is how people felt listening to him and Callum, witnessing that bond and seeing all the little signs that pointed at the hard as diamonds foundation of trust.

"Everything is close together if you measure by the America ruler," Abel said with a snort. "This country is ginormous."

MJ: "Ginormous and likes to keep everyone at umbrella length." He demonstrated with the item of mention, long and orange and just suddenly in his hand.

Pete/Abel: Abel laughed. "It's the American way!"

Pete didn't quite startle, but he did give a bit of a start. "Never gonna be used to how quickly you can magic things out of thin air."

MJ: "This ain't nothin'. Not anymore. Watch this shit," he commanded, promptly smacking Abel in the ass with the umbrella before it disappeared.

Pete/Abel: Pete laughed as Abel cried out a rather undignified "Ahhh!"

"You really are getting good. Of course, you were good before." He still remembered that snake on the bar in vivid detail.

MJ: "Only gets better. Don't ya have magic of your own?"

Pete: “It’s very nature oriented and I don’t have a lot of it, but yeah. I can suddenly keep plants alive without Cal.”

MJ: "Ain't he jealous," the Ravnos grinned.

Pete: "The opposite actually," Pete chuckled. "I am now trusted with the real versions of my nice fake plants. The cat safe ones anyway."

MJ: "No more glass roses, huh?"

Pete: "Those live on my bedside table."

MJ: "Still?"

Pete: Pete smiled and nodded. "Still. Was thinking about making a little box or something for them. Midas does this thing where he knocks shit over when he wants attention and I don't want him to get my roses."

MJ: He had missed that smile. "Could talk to him, if ya want."

Pete: "That's riiiiiight, I forgot you could do that! Would you? I really don't want him to break them."

MJ: "I ain't gonna bark orders." Although he could. "We'll negotiate."

Pete: "He can be bribed with salmon and chicken."

MJ: "What's his opinion of dogs?"

Pete: "Depends on the dog. He likes the really big fluffy ones that just kinda lay around because then he can sleep on them. Smaller dogs are judged on a case by case basis."

MJ: "We headin' back? I got an idea. All mafioso."

Pete: "Yeah, sure. Is the mafioso idea for convincing Midas not to break my sentimental things or for rescuing the kid from the Umbra?"

MJ: "Cat first, kid tomorrow night."

Pete/Abel: "Does it involve Abel?"

"Yeah, does it involve me?" Abel asked. "I wanna make a good impression on Midas."

MJ: "You'll see." One more vigorous shake of his head, fingers combed through the wet mess of black.

Abel: "We need to towel off your hair." Abel gathered up all their snacks. "Ready to go, boys?"

MJ: "Ain't gonna catch a cold." So often did he forget Abel's age until he said something like that. Then it was just glaring.

"Yep."

Abel: "No but you might get frost in your hair. Are we going to the RV or to Pete's house?"

MJ: "Pete's." He looked to the sky, though. "When ya usually go t'bed?"

Pete/Abel: "Varies," said Pete. "You know me, I'm on the pub owner sleep schedule. We're all good."

"Good!" Abel adjusted the bags on one arm and held out a hand to each of them. "Now Pete, I need you to visualize your house so I can take us there."

MJ: "It's March, man. We can walk." But still he took that hand, if only to straighten himself.

Pete/Abel: "This is faster! Why walk when you can teleport?"

"Hard to argue with that," said Pete, taking Abel's hand and forming as clear an image of his house as he could in his mind.

And off they went through time and space.

[narniagiftexchange]

                                      THE SUMMER NARNIAN GIFT EXCHANGE.

                                   for @historyofnarnia by @lovelybabyrose.

The Giants of the North came under the White Witch’s rule three hundred years before she felled the Tree of Protection and came into Narnia.  It was there she had made Goma son of Boulder King over the Giant Lands under her empire.  It was their army that Jadis took to bend Narnia to her knee.  It was the giants and their king who promised to avenge their Empress when Narnia was un-conquered and free once more.

But Jadis is long gone, and Peter must pick up the pieces.

High King Peter, Sir Wolfsbane of the Most Noble Order returned to the Northern border after two summers and two winters in Narnia.  With Moss the son of Goma he had made peace with after almost nine years of war. But King Moss was surrounded by his father’s advisors, who wished to reclaim the lands of Narnia, and several months into their treaty were heard stirrings and murmurs of the Giant King changing his mind.  And after the King Moss issued his challenge again in the autumn of 1012, Peter bade goodbye to his brother and sisters and rode hard for Ettinsmoor, with an army of Men and Beasts.

There had been a great tournament during High Spring, Peter remembers as he walks through the camp.  Not long ago. He had visited Cair Paravel to visit his family for a short time, and to take part in the spring festivals.  And the ambassadors from Calormen had come. Prince Rabadash had joined them in the festivities, won many jousts and joined Peter’s side in the melee, and asked Susan for her hand at the end.  That had been almost two months earlier. It feels to Peter as if that were such a long time ago when he was on the jousting fields, celebrating beside his brother and sisters and all of Narnia.

Summer is soon to come – things are moving slowly, but surely still.  Plans of a treatise, plans of a meeting with the Giant King Moss, plans of more battles to come.  Busy, busy, busy.

And Peter doesn’t know.  He doesn’t know what will come.  Between his work, when he grabs coffee and a hot breakfast after training early in the morning, he looks out at the endless fields of green and gold.  Like the sea back at home, at Cair Paravel.  From his tent in the day, surrounded by letters and maps, he looks to the mountains as if they would have answers.  

Craggy mountains split the sky, capped with snow and ice, adorned with smoke and clouds and stars. Sometimes he would catch the sight of giants walking among them, climbing their passes.  

Whenever he’s come to the Northern March, the mountains took his breath away.  That feeling never changed.

But there is much to be done.  After breakfast he meets with his generals and the marshals, surveying their positions and making plans for the months to come.  At half past noon he rides down to the border with the Urien the Centaur, to greet the reinforcements being led by the hamadryad-general Gaiana and her army gathered from Lantern Waste.

It’s a clear blue sky, no clouds at all, and wonderfully crisp and cold.  A strong wind blows. Peter stands at the before the camp with General Alba Nona, discussing Giantish troops in the northeast with the Tigress and their movements since his visiting Narnia, and the summer festivities that were soon to come – whether these would stall King Moss’s plans of war.  

He runs a hand through his hair, catching the golden band.  Rhindon sheathed at his side, blue woolen cape flapping in the wind.  “Ah, here they come,” Peter says suddenly, a smile breaking on his face.

As the troops march toward them, he hears the drums and the singing, Fauns and Trees and Beasts alike.  Peter can’t help but grin as he watches them march in, and when he sees the banner they march under – a deep cobalt blue, with the lion and the dagger and the healing hand – and when he spots the figure of the one leading the troops, sitting atop one of the Elephants, he’s already running to greet her, smiling so much that it hurt.

“Lucy!” he shouts.

“Peter!” Lucy shouts back.  She’s clad in mail with her helmet in her hands, dagger at her hip.  A silk scarf, strawberry-red, was wound about her neck (a gift from Susan, Peter thinks, from many winters ago), her cordial shining bright underneath.  She’s golden brown from a Narnian summer, curls sticking to her face and trailing in the wind, and he’s half sure she’s grown taller, too.

She slipped off the Elephant’s side and into his arms.  He hugs her close. “I can’t believe you’re here!” Peter cried.  “What news of our brother and sister in Calormen?”

Lucy laughed at him, the sound muffled into his hair.  “Nothing new,” she replied when she finally pulled back, scrunching her nose at him.  “The long, long overtures of courtship continue. And besides, don’t you get their letters?”

Peter only laughed in surprise, pulling his sister close again.  It doesn’t quite feel real, the sun shining softly on them and the laughing and the chatter exploding around them.  The dryads of the Fir and the Pine and the Dogwood trees rustled around them as they moved and spoke, greeting the camp.  “I missed you,” he said at last.

“I know you did.”  Lucy smiled at him.  “Did you think I’d forget you, up here in these mountains?  Cair Paravel is far less exciting, without all of you at home.”

Peter shook his head and laughed again.  The Tigress padded towards them, and Lucy moved to greet her, and Peter finds Gaiana and her officers welcomed them in turn.

It isn’t until they are walking to his tent when they come together again. Lucy takes his hand. “I have seven days with thee,” she said. “Susan ordered me to see that you were fed and watered, and sleeping the most regular hours before I returned to Cair Paravel.”  

“I am,Lu.”

“No, you are not.”  Lucy tugged at her scarf and sighed.  “You must rest.  When I met your messengers at the Cair, they told me you have been doing much since you arrived in the winter.  Besides, now you have a reason to slack.”

“Which is?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Me, of course.”  She stopped and grinned at Peter, eyes dancing.  “You must entertain thy guest.” Lucy looked up to admire the mountains before them, towering over the encampments.  “It’s good to be at the border again. The mountains are wonderfully tall. Perhaps we can have something like a camping trip, brother.”

“I can’t do a camping trip, Lu.  I have to go to battle with the giants.”

Lucy rolled her eyes.  “You are far too sensible for thine own good.”

Peter turned to his general helplessly.  She inclined her head. “There is still yet time,” said the Tigress.  “The scouts have not returned and they shall not return till tomorrow, the satyrs maybe not even the day after.”

“And yet, it would be good to acquaint the new troops with the camp.”

The general frowned at him.  “Which I am happy to do on my own, Your Majesty.  I agree with the Queen Lucy; a week’s rest is timely, my lord.”

Lucy grinned.  He missed seeing her smile, Peter thinks.  “General, what say you of our High King’s work since his return to Ettinsmoor?  Speak plainly.”

“His Majesty,” the Tigress said carefully, “has been of great service to the border.“  She glanced at Peter.  "But he has tried to do everyone’s work for himself the moment he stepped into the camps.”

Peter bowed.  “My good general, I apologize that I caused you and your officers offense.  I did not intend to take away from you a job.” Alba inclined her head again, and padded away to address the troops.  

Peter turned back to his sister. “What sort of camping trip did you imagine, sister?”

“Three days and two nights along the River Shribble,” she replied.  “We can fish there, for the evening meals.  And we might catch sight of the White Stag – it has been said that they have been sighted in these lands.”

Peter hesitates.  There is still so much to be done, even with Alba Nona’s intervention – more camps and forts along the border to visit, more councils in the night to convene, more provisions to check and double check.  He thinks of King Lune’s letter waiting at his desk in the tent.

He glances up at the mountains again.  They can wait, he decides. There will be time.  

Peter takes Lucy’s hand again.  “The River Shribble it is.”

______________________ notes: hi hello, charl!  here’s a small gift from me to you.  i discovered your headcanons about peter while brainstorming this gift, and i liked them immensely!  i tried to write something i hoped you would enjoy – peter during the ettins war, without sadness, for a moment.  i hope you had a lovely summer, as peter and lucy did.

[assassinwolf189]

Mah Dudes I did the writing thing.

Here is one of my favorite pieces I’ve written. Also some extra info, Linina and George are siblings.

“Dian Gilberts.” “Yes him, he is the Regele-Nenorocit.”They all looked at him. “English dad.”George demanded. “It’s Romanian for damned King.”He pulled his key off of his neck, pushing away the large fish tank. “What a lovely title.”Linina said sarcastically as the floor separated itself, leading with a staircase to the following floor. “Damn sir, who are you in your private time.”Sam questioned as the lights dimly lit the large room filled with with books , weapons and artifacts. “I am a Marine biologist ,druidery adviser and father , I have no private time.”His eyes were filled with wonder. “Stay here.” Quinten ordered. “Linina give me your sword, someone else is here.” He walked up to the door, and peaked through.

"Oh, it's you." Quintin said snarkely rolling his eyes. "Hi?" "What do you three want this time?" He glared. "We need help." Eric muttered through the hole. "Let me guess , you're here to file a complaint for the missing people?"They stood silently, Ivan walked up behind them. "Actually sir , I am here to see your son, I brought him flowers. " Ivan smiled brightly, Quintin grinned. "George , your boyfriend is here to see you." He opened the door letting him in, closing the door again as Peter tried to pursue inwards. "Excuse me."He growled, feeling a jab to his ribs. "Yes Peter Stormbard, you are excused from my Marina." He growled at Quintin, whom met him with a sharp glare through his spectacles.

"Remember what we are here for."Eric muttered. "SO...? What do you need help with?" "Peter over here got himself into a brawl with a couple of shadows and had a mark burnt onto his arm, and we wanted to check it out, and the even bigger problem of my brother being missing, and we were wondering if you could help us find out what happened to the both of them." The lad suggested with a smile, that complimented his short brown hair and hazel nut eyes. "Well Aiden, I will indeed assist you in finding your brother , and helping Peter and Eric with their shadow markings, on my terms though." "Fine."Peter rolled his eyes, Quintin opened the large door, leading them inside to the other room.

"Nice Marina,- "Eric guessed, Peter Scoffed at his remarks. Eathen rolled his eyes sighing. "Pitiful." Peter snarled I facing yet another Jab to his rib-cage,Quintin continued on with a Smirk Wiring Upon his face,

" But George how on this green earth do we get them back?" ''By Mining them out of the ground." "They are not-diamonds or bloody chunks of gold "Linina argued. ''I don't know, Shailen and Micheal's friendship are worth a lot more then that" "Wait they've been taken too?!" She questioned in horror.. "Micheal was taken from the hospital yesterday, Shailen Is still unseen, she just disappeared , Cole says that he knocked her into the pool and disappeared into the showers and just didn't come back out again." George said quite calmly. "How the hell are you this calm about your family disappearing?" "K9 is on the case, and I know that if she soldiers on like this, I know we can too. Clearly you forget that we all get into sticky situations like this all the time, and the SDA helps all of us. And in times like this its best to stay calm...It's so hard but it needs to happen." He gave a sigh.

"It will take time but they will be found."  Sam sat there in silence witnessing the two's conversation in the "dead language" of Latin, baffeled ever so slightly, Quintin joined them followed by the others. They stood, a strange relieve of tension lit the room. "George, did you see who dropped in for you?" The old man smiled. "Who dropped in for me ?"The lad grinned. "So George, I think it's best we go looking for him."Linina flashed a smile leading him out the door quite quickly. "Now that that's out the way, I suppose we need to get to discussing the elephant in the room; so when did the disappearances start to happen?" He questioned taking a seat. "Three weeks ago, Louis got taken followed by Mason a few evenings after." Sam answered quietly . "A few of the kids were taken a week ago, my brother being one of them."Eathen added. "Do you know where these abductions happened or the time of day?" Quintin wrote down the extra details. "Around early morning and late at night, it mostly targets the top athletes-" "Yes but Sam, if it was the only reason Louis and Mason would definitely be her and you would be gone." "Relax peanut gallery, Sam will probably get taken later. Or not at all, because he's probably one of the hero's of the chapter." Eathen snorted. "Oh don't start with your, we are all living in a book gizz again Eathen." Peter rolled his eyes. "You know it's true." He prodded, Quintin pulled out another large weathered book. "Sam please go fetch the other three, I kind of need them for the rest of this investigation." Sam nodded and ascended up the round curved stairs.

They sat on the side of  the tank, Ivan still marveling the dolphins. "So Shailen is safe right?"Linina asked tenderly. "Well yes, wait why do you care?" "Because....I had plans....and I have questions and homework , I need to have answered." "Umm hmmm...what kind of questions...." "Just questions." "You like her don't you....the one girl that wouldn't just be a make out buddy..." "Just because I have questions doesn't mean I like her." "Well what questions were you going to ask her?" "When she's available....if she would like to go on with me to the exquisite art exhibition....and afterwards to a movie and  dinner at the gallery." "So a date?" "No." "Yes, it's just a friendly gathering between the two of you, under moonlight, between two great friends, that you'd actually dress up for ....yes that doesn't sound like a date at all." "Fine....it is a date...and I am interested, and no I wouldn't ever treat her like a tongue buddy..." "So it's best we get her back then ."

"Also what actually happened?" "Well Cole said that after she tossed a phone at him she went into the bathroom for a couple of hours."She cringed. "Cole's very stalkery, well he's gross." "Yes a cockroach, well I must say I can't expect anything else. He does talk to you after all." Linina laughed, nearly falling into the tank.

"You clearly want me to stab you with this Gucci heel again."George grinned. "But blood is so hard to get out saturn." "Its red, you wouldn't see the stain."George retorted. "Yes but dearest Georgie, blood stains brown." "But its Patent Leather It wouldn't Stain." "It would be even harder to get out, this is an atroccity."Linina flicked her hair. Sam came up to the top of the Marina. "Uh, your dad needs you down stairs."Sam grimaced. "Thank you, you sweet bean."Linina smiled.

"Such beautiful fish."Ivan marvelled "You do know that a bottle nose dolphin, is a mammal right?"She questioned with her brow raised. "Well the tales go like this."He gestured a side wards motion. "No. This isn't a dolphin tale where the dolphin has a weird circular motion, this is a normal dolphin where the tale goes up and down."She turned away looking to George.

"Dense."She muttered rolling her eyes. "Let me guess he smelt nice?" "Yes, and he looks good, and he's got a lovely personality."George replied. "I didn't say he was tastless, I'm just saying that you can't base a relationship on some one with a smellilality." He laughed. "Clearly you have type." Linina scoffed rolling her eyes. "Are we seriously pointing fingers, because you can't talk." He laughed "Oh really?" She challenged. "Two words. Tongue Buddies." She found it hard not to burst into laughter. "You've got me there."

They got to the library, glaring and snarking eachother out. "Finally you two are here." Quintin squinted at his book. "Sorry for taking all your precious time thou royal highness." Linina rolled her eyes. "So what else is there to know about this whole situation?" "Well Micheal disappeared from  the hospital." "WHAT?!" Quintin jerked. "Micheal was taken...and in hospital, why was he in hospital?" "The schools ice rink collapsed during a demon raid, and hit Micheal and amputated James other leg."She explained Quintens eyes widened in horror. "This is that family I serve and no -one tells me shit." "Anything else I missed???"

"George stabbed me with his Gucci red heels....twice."Linina looked at her shoes. "George you wear heels now?"He nodded to his fathers question. "Linina punched a few boys....and dated one of the assistants."Linina frowned at him. "See but your sister is bent to the point of no return, I can still mold you."They rolled their eyes.

"Could we stop talking about your family issues and get to the part as to how to fix me and not get me driven to the inferno?" "Zip it." Quintin answered. "Your attitude stinks worse then you do."George prodded. "Yeah dude, you need a dive in the pond or something...although you'd kill the fish and posion the dogs....So maybe the sanitary showers?" Linina taunted. "They're right Peter, you could do with a shower." "Quintin you're with them on that?"They were all grinning. "They're my kids, and the most logical and observant people I know...so when they say you smell, YOU STANK." Quintin began to laugh, the other two high-fived eachother. "Really." "Ok now let us get to business-" "To defeat the huns." Ivan replied.

@alqulyndrys

@darksiders-fanfic-and-drabbles

 @sketchyfandomgirl

@madyson-delayne

@Bloodrayne-44

[1989dreamer]

Tap-Dancing Elephants

On AO3

Spoilers for Season 5, especially Controlling Interest

Dialogue borrowed heavily from the episode, and in some cases recreated word for word.

Warning: Deals with aftermath of rape.

Summary: After the incident in Dr. Summers office, Neal discovers that his shirt is buttoned wrong. It opens a new investigation that Neal doesn’t think he can cope with.

                                                                                                                        ~ * ~

It isn’t until he’s already at the hospital, and his jacket is hanging over Jones’s arm that Neal notices his shirt is buttoned wrong.

He stares at the small gap of white of his undershirt.

It feels as big as an elephant tap-dancing on his chest.

Peter doesn’t look up, not even when Ramirez and Elliot another agent-C.I. team swing by to say hello.

Elliott’s on crutches—the result of diving off a moving vehicle to avoid his cover being blown. Ramirez, amendable as ever, swaps injury lists with Jones and Peter.

It’s so normal, and yet Neal can feel his world crashing down around his ears.

He must make some noise, because Peter snaps his head up and his heavy gaze finds Neal.

Neal tries to wave at him, but his hand is numb, flopping around at the end of his wrist.

Immediately, Peter excuses himself, coming back into the room and touching Neal’s arm. Neal can’t help the slight recoil he has at it.

“What’s wrong?” Peter asks, and it sounds like he’s talking through wet cardboard for all Neal can hear him.

Instead, he drops his eyes to the wrongly buttoned part of his shirt. Peter’s hand hovers over it, and Neal winces, hoping he won’t touch him again. Peter doesn’t, but what he does next is just as bad.

He calls in a nurse and a doctor and has Jones lead Ramirez and Elliot away.

Neal’s hearing goes completely out when Peter whispers the words “rape kit” and “assaulted.”

A soft touch to his arm brings him back, and Neal startles the nursing assistant when he jerks under her hand.

“You’re okay,” she says.

Peter nudges her aside. “Neal, do you remember what happened?”

“No,” Neal whispers. “I can’t remember anything after Summers drugged me.”

“Okay, what we’re going to do is get you examined.”

Somehow Neal doesn’t think he can say no.

Peter crusades with Jones helping to lead the medical charge. Neal’s blood is drawn, six small vials that might as well be his whole body’s worth for how cold it leaves him.

Afterward, Neal sits in the waiting room, gauze pressed to the crook of his arm, ignoring the gabbing agents trading stories of C.I.s a few feet from his chair. This time it’s Cruz and her charge, and Cruz is the one sporting a wrapped wrist and a bandaged head.

Peter sits next to him, magazine folded over his lap, face set in his mask of concentration, and still Neal squashes the small voice piping up. Peter doesn’t need to worry about him, about the cold dread twisting in his gut.

“We can probably go,” Peter remarks after a few tense moments of silence. “The hospital can contact us about the tox screen, but the blood results won’t be back in for at least a week.”

Neal has to clear his throat twice before he can speak. “What about the kit?”

Peter picks up the magazine and sets it back on the table next to him. “There was evidence of vaginal fluid,” he says lowly. “It’s being tested for DNA, but that won’t be back for at least a month.”

“She did,” Neal starts, stops when a lump in his throat threatens to choke him. Peter nods anyway.

“I’m sorry,” he offers.

“What happens now?” Neal asks. “What happens to Griffith?”

“We keep investigating,” Peter says. “We need to finish processing you for evidence before we can charge Summers with any crime. In the meantime, we’ll keep working on clearing Griffith’s name.” He pauses, studying Neal with a critical eye. “Well, not you,” he finally amends. “You’re too close to the case. Besides, I don’t want Summers anywhere near you.”

“Trust me, I don’t want her anywhere near me either.”

“I don’t want to do this to you, but if you’re dating anyone, sleeping with anyone, you need to get them to submit a DNA sample to rule them out.”

“You think they won’t believe that she…me?”

Peter sighs. “I don’t know what I think right now. Just, please, don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be.”

Neal looks down at his lap. “There’s no one right now. I’m trying being celibate.”

“Really?” Peter seems surprised, and Neal shrugs at him.

“It hasn’t really been working out to be in a relationship right now.”

“There’s no one else?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“Actually yes,” Peter says. “Neal, I’m so used to you charming your way through life that I can’t imagine you don’t have someone ready to share your bed, your life.”

Neal shrugs. “There’s no one, Peter. I’m trying to turn over a new leaf.”

Summers’ words flash through his mind, and Neal wonders if she did what she did because she doesn’t believe he truly has changed.

“Well, if you say there’s no one, then there’s no one.” Peter sighs. “Do you want to go home or do you want to come back to the office?”

“I get a choice?” Peter nods. Neal thinks about it. If he goes back to the office, there’s a chance that the other agents will have heard about what Summers did to him. But, Neal doesn’t relish the idea of sitting at home with his thoughts, trying to remember what happened. “The office, please,” he says softly. Peter looks surprised but nods again.

“You can stay in my office if you like,” he offers.

“Thank you.”

                                                                                                                        ~ * ~

After a few unproductive hours, Peter drops Neal at home, promises to check on him before they go to work tomorrow, and drives off with a wave.

Neal sighs, tired to his bones, and hauls his body up the stairs to his apartment.

Mozzie looks up from his contraption with the Mosconi pages, and Neal nods as he heads to the stove for the teapot. His whole body aches but he doesn’t know why.

Chamomile should hit the spot.

Mozzie watches him with a keen eye, and Neal shudders under the examination.

“You okay there?”

“Fine.” Neal opens the fridge for milk and slams it shut, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the stench wafting out. “What have you done to my fridge?” he demands. It’s one more thing on a bad day, and he feels his resolve quickly crumbling.

“I made hongeo,” Mozzie says. “It’s a delicacy.”

“Maybe to those of us who don’t have noses.” Neal holds his breath while he pulls out the carton of milk. He takes his mug and the carton to the window, making sure the product inside doesn’t smell like the rotting fish in his fridge before he adds a generous dollop.

He gives the carton to Mozzie to put away, ignoring his protest of “I’m lactose intolerant.”

Mozzie puts the carton away, inhaling appreciatively while Neal covers his nose. Neal glares at him when he sits down again.

“What?”

“You’re banned from cooking,” Neal tells him.

Mozzie scoffs. “Good Night Cinderella,” he says apropos of nothing. To Neal’s confused face, he adds, “It’s a drug. A mix of GHB, ketamine, and flunitrazepam. The working girls in Rio use it on their johns and then they do anything they want.”

“And you think that’s what Summers gave me?”

“Well, she does have connections to the criminal underground.”

“Her patients?” Neal asks, and Mozzie nods. “Why would any of her patients give her that much control over them?”

“You said she wasn’t cheap for your session.” Mozzie shrugs. “Maybe one of her patients paid their debt by giving her a recipe for Good Night Cinderella.” A light bulb goes on over Mozzie’s head. “Have you ever heard of RMT?” he asks.

“Do I want to?”

“RMT stands for recovered memory therapy. A lot of times I drink a bit too much wine and I forget things. In order to remember those things, I drink more wine.”

“And that helps?” Neal sips at his tea, studying Mozzie. “I highly doubt it really does much for you.”

“Do you want my help or not?”

Neal pauses, his mug halfway to his lips again. What kind of question is that? Of course Neal wants Mozzie’s help. But a better question is: does Neal want to know what really happened at his session?

Does he want to remember what Summers did to him after she drugged him? The answer is yes. He’s spent all afternoon racking his brain to see if some memory did slip through, but he’s come up short every time.

“Can you get it on the street?” Neal can give Mozzie money to buy some. He has enough left over to do that.

Mozzie shakes his head, entirely too gleeful when he declares, “I’d have to make it for you!”

Neal sits down, sets his mug down, and fixes Mozzie with a blank stare. “Do it,” he says, woodenly. Then, he grabs his mug and stalks off to his bed.

Mozzie calls for him a couple of hours later, and Neal rouses slowly. He hadn’t been sleeping, mind still spinning, trying to recall just what Summers had said to him, but he’d been deep enough in a doze that it’s still jarring to haul himself up and back to the table.

He sits down, frowning at his hands so that he doesn’t have to see the happy, relaxed expression on Mozzie’s face. It’s not his fault that he gets giddy from helping.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Mozzie asks.

Neal nods, finally looking up. Mozzie is worried, his brow creased in concern. He pushes a glass across the table. Neal pulls it closer, examining the contents. It looks like water.

So did Summers’ bottle.

“I need to know what I told her, how much of Peter’s case I gave away.” He glances toward the pages set aside for tonight. “How much of us I gave away.”

Mozzie nods in understanding, picking up his wine glass. “Well, I will be right here to guide you.”

Neal sniffs the contents of his glass. It has that same chemical smell that Summers’ bottle had tasted of. “Are you sure this is the same concoction that Summers used?”

“More or less.” Mozzie sips at his wine. “I made a few modifications. Added a stimulant.” He shrugs at Neal’s raised brow. “The longer we can keep you in that altered state, the better you’ll be able to recall. And thanks to my added potassium stimulant, you’ll be more in control of your faculties.”

“As long as I wake up,” Neal says and knocks it back. At first he thinks nothing’s happening because he’s still sitting across from Mozzie, watching as he drinks his wine and pours another glass.

He doesn’t feel the same sick twist in the pit of his stomach, but Mozzie’s voice, rattling on about vintages he hasn’t tried yet, does start to echo a bit. Neal raises his hand, and Mozzie stops talking.

“It’s kicking in?” he asks, setting aside his glass.

Neal nods. He leans back in the chair, gripping the arms tightly.

Already, he can hear Summers’ voice whispering by his ear, but he can’t make out what she’s saying.

“Remember the office,” Mozzie instructs from far away. “The shapes, the textures. Even the view. Dr. Summers is sitting across from you. She’s waiting for you to lose your inhibitions. What is she saying?”

Neal focuses his hearing.

“What can the FBI prove?”

“She wanted to know what the FBI knew and if they could prove anything.”

“Did you ask her any questions?”

Neal nods.

“You stole the two million. Why?”

“Because it was there.”

“Did she ask any more questions? Did she lead you?”

“No,” Neal thinks he’s shaking his head, but he can’t be sure, “no, she-she wanted to…” He can’t finish that sentence because in his memory, he can see Summers looming over him, one hand on his chest, the other dipping lower, cupping him. He whimpers in the back of his throat, shifting away from her fingers.

“Did you ask her any other questions?” Mozzie’s voice floats in, barely there, and Neal grabs hold of it, trying to use it to pull himself back from Summers.

“Why are you doing this?” Neal breathes.

Summers smiles, leaning closer, lips brushing his ear when she whispers, “Because I can.”

Neal jerks back, tipping the chair over. He goes sprawling, scrambling, trying to get away from something that his mind thinks is happening again.

Mozzie drops next to him, patting him on the shoulder. Neal recoils.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Mozzie says softly.

“No, it’s not,” Neal says. He can’t breathe and his chest hurts. He can still feel Summers’ fingers curling around him, stroking him so that she could use him. “She knows that the FBI’s going after Griffiths.” He chokes on a sob. “Why’d she do that, Moz?”

“I don’t know,” Mozzie says honestly. “The suit won’t let her get away with it.”

“The suit, Peter,” Neal says, “I have to tell Peter what I remembered.” He stands up, swaying on his feet.

Mozzie grabs his arm. “No, you don’t,” he said. “What you need is to rest. Come on, Neal. Just sit.”

Neal lets himself be settled, and Mozzie sinks down across the table from him. “Neal, breathe. Whatever you saw, it’s already happened. It can’t happen again.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I really need to tell Peter about what I remember.”

Mozzie sighs. “Let me get my jacket,” he says. “I’ll take you.”

                                                                                                                        ~ * ~

The Burkes look like they were having a relaxing evening before Neal and Mozzie burst in. Neal sits on the couch, Mozzie a line of solid heat beside him.

Elizabeth offers something to eat for the third time. Mozzie accepts some wine while Neal hugs a pillow to his chest, hoping it will help with the hollow feeling swirling in his gut.

Peter sighs heavily, rubbing at his eyes. “Tell me again why you thought it would be a good idea to drug him?” He glares at Mozzie.

Mozzie isn’t perturbed by it, sipping nonchalantly at his wine. “We needed a way to recover Neal’s memories.”

“And you did it by giving him the same damn solution Summers did? How on earth did you think that was acceptable? And you,” he points at Neal, “why did you let him?”

Neal rolls his shoulders, hunching forward. “I wanted to remember,” he says softly. He meets Elizabeth’s eyes. “I needed to.”

Surprisingly, it’s Peter who nods. He turns to face Neal more fully, hands clasped in front of him, like he’s trying to stop himself from reaching out to touch Neal.

“Okay, so, go back to where you left off. What’s happening?”

Neal closes his eyes, swallowing at the growing sensation of Summers cupping him, stroking him.

“Sh-she asked about the FBI, what we knew. She knows there’s nothing there.”

“Did she ask about Griffiths?”

Neal tries to remember but all he can feel is Summers hand guiding him, his—him penetrating her as she bites his ear and uses him to bring herself to climax.

He fell out of the chair at that point, he’s almost positive. When she’d shoved the smelling salts in his face, he’d been on the floor, one hand under his body, the other over his eyes as he’d cried.

She’d spun some honey lies, and he hadn’t believed her. Now he was here, half on the Burkes’ couch, half in Summers’ office. Stuck inside his head.

“You’ve got two minutes,” Mozzie says from very far away. “Then he’s going to sleep.”

“Neal, concentrate,” Peter barks. Neal grabs with both hands and comes up empty.

He shakes his head, thinks he does anyway, to apologize, and then slumps sideways, cheeks wet as he passes out.

                                                                                                                        ~ * ~

Neal wakes up still on the Burkes’ couch with Mozzie in Peter’s chair, watching him with a neutral expression. Mozzie is good at hiding his fear, Neal thinks, but not his other emotions. He’s afraid.

“What’s wrong?” Neal tries to ask and ends up coughing because of his dry throat. Elizabeth materializes by his elbow and offers him a glass of water.

“Just water?” Neal confirms, and Mozzie nods.

He drinks it.

Elizabeth sits next to him. “Peter’s going to arrest Dr. Summers,” she announces to her knees. She takes the glass from Neal’s lax fingers before he can drop it. “He thinks they have enough on her to get her to at least confess to abusing her patients.” She glances at Neal before adding, quietly, “Like she did you.”

Neal throws up.

Because he’s only had the water and the Goodnight Cinderella last night, it isn’t much of anything. Just water. But it still stings his throat and makes his eyes water. He doesn’t want to think about Summers doing what she did to him to others.

In a way, though, he supposes he should be glad. If she hadn’t raped him, then they would never have gotten her.

It does not make him feel better.

                                                                                                                        ~ * ~

Peter doesn’t actually arrest Summers. He has another division do that for him.

“Too close,” he says, like it’s an apology. Neal ignores him in favor of pretending to study one of the fraud cases.

“We got her accomplices too,” Peter adds when the silence stretches on. Neal pointedly flips a page. “We talked to Griffiths too.”

Neal looks up at the drop in Peter’s register. He narrows his eyes at him, and Peter shakes his head sadly.

“She raped him too.”

Neal closes the file. “Don’t say it,” he warns.

Peter heaves a sigh and nods. “He doesn’t remember as much as you did, but there’s evidence. Neal, I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“Someone had to stop her.” Neal drops the file on Peter’s desk and walks out of his office.

“Oh, and Neal,” Peter calls.

Neal pauses by his desk, hand on his coat, the other reaching for his fedora.

“We didn’t find the money. Do you know how that happened?”

Neal shakes his head, puts on his coat and hat, and punches the button for the elevator.

Peter lets him go.

                                                                                                                        ~ * ~

Neal enters his apartment to find Mozzie sitting at the table, working on the Mosconi pages. He almost turns around and leaves again, but Mozzie waves him over.

“How was Peter?” Mozzie asks, wriggling in his chair, delighted over something.

Bluntly, Neal asks, “Did you steal the two million from Summers?”

He doesn’t really care. He’s not going to ask for any of it. Mozzie needs it to get back on his feet again. Two million can buy a new identity and some new contacts that won’t be suspicious because Teddy Winters was made.

“Of course,” Mozzie says. “It was brilliant! Shall I tell you about it?”

“No.” Neal knows he’s being rude, difficult, ugly, but right now, he wants his apartment back. He knows Peter’s going to confront him again about the money. Wasn’t it enough that Summer raped him, got inside his head, and used him like a plaything?

He doesn’t need Peter pushing him, and he doesn’t need a witness when he breaks again.

Gentler, he says, “I need to be alone right now. Do you have somewhere you can go?”

Mozzie nods knowingly, gathering the pages into a satchel. He tops off his glass, shoving the bottle back among the empties, likely all drunk this evening before Neal returned from the office. “June has been itching to resume our Parcheesi tournaments.”

In reality, Mozzie’s probably going to find a quiet storage unit and keep working on the papers.

Neal doesn’t really care right now. “Thank you,” he says to Mozzie’s back, aware at least that he owes Mozzie that much.

As soon as he’s alone, Neal strips down and takes as hot of a shower as he can, scrubbing his skin raw before digging out his softest pajamas, a gift from Elizabeth shortly after his first Christmas working for the FBI. He curls up under all the blankets he can find, the chill in his bones spreading out until he shakes with it.

He closes his eyes and tries not to see Summers leaning over him, tries not to feel her hands on him, tries not to hear her voice telling him she can do whatever she wants.

He fails.

  ~ End ~

[foursprout-blog]

50 ‘Would You Rather’ Questions For Kids And 200 Other Awesome Questions To Ask Children

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50 ‘Would You Rather’ Questions For Kids And 200 Other Awesome Questions To Ask Children

Would You Rather Questions For Kids

1. Would you rather have a magic button that made your mom stop talking or a magic button that made your dad stop talking?

2. Would you rather never have to take another test in school or never get sick ever again?

3. Would you rather get to skip whatever class you wanted every single day or get however much screen time you wanted after school every day?

4. Would you rather get to eat whatever you want, whenever you want, or get to go to bed whenever you want?

5. Would you rather have an actual robot or an actual rocket?

6. Would you rather be able to go back in time or have the power to stop time whenever you felt like it?

7. Would you rather live forever or never feel pain?

8. Would you rather show up to school on the back of a dinosaur or in the coolest convertible ever?

9. Would you rather be a rockstar or a famous actor when you grow up?

10. Would you rather win an Olympic gold medal or win a million dollar in the lottery?

11. Would you rather have the power to run as fast as the speed of light, or the power to walk through walls?

12. Would you rather have a head the size of a lemon or the size of a pumpkin?

13. Would you have a condition that made you sneeze 1,000 times a day or a condition that made you pee your pants in public once a year?

14. Would you rather live in a house made of gummy bears or marshmallows?

15. Would you rather never have a nightmare again, or never get the flu every again?

16. Would you rather eat liver or sardines for dinner for the rest of your life?

17. Would you rather be the best singer or the best dancer in your entire school?

18. Would you rather be respected by all of your peers or feared by them?

19. Would you rather be captain of the football team or captain of the debate team?

20. Would you rather be great at math or great at English?

21. Would you rather bet the best looking person in your grade or the smartest?

22. Would you rather have only one hand or only one leg?

23. Would you rather get to watch any movie you wanted or eat whatever food you wanted all the time?

24. Would you rather ace every single test you took without studying or win every single sports game you played?

25. Would you rather never have to read another book for school or never have to study for another test?

26. Would you rather have to wear your shoes on the wrong feet or your pants backwards?

27. Would you rather have to clean the toilets every day or clean the garbage can every single day?

28. Would you rather have to brush your teeth with a dirty toothbrush or wipe your butt with dirty toilet paper?

29. Would you rather have ten cavities or ten warts?

30. Would you rather go bald tomorrow or lose all your teeth tomorrow?

31. Would you rather have to go to school wearing a clown nose or wearing a clown wig?

32. Would you rather have to eat an entire glass of ketchup or mustard?

33. Would you rather have a swimming pool or the coolest treehouse in your backyard?

34. Would you rather get a new pair of sneakers every single month or a new backpack every single month?

35. Would you rather get to eat pizza or hamburgers for dinner every night?

36. Would you rather get to go to Antarctica or the Jungle for a week?

37. Would you rather have to eat only cold foods all winter long or eat only hot foods all summer long?

38. Would you rather drink spoiled milk or your own pee?

39. Would you rather have to eat all your future meals with only a spoon or only a fork?

40. Would you rather have to take a freezing cold shower every day or drink kale juice for breakfast every day?

41. Would you rather have a pet monkey or a pet tiger?

42. Would you rather have to eat your own puke or eat your own poop?

43. Would you rather be able to talk to birds or talk to squirrels?

44. Would you rather be able to read minds or predict the future?

45. Would you rather have to wear a superhero cape to school every day or a pirate patch?

46. Would you rather learn how to drive a racecar of fly planes?

47. Would your rather be elected class president or nominated homecoming king / queen?

48. Would you rather ride on the back of an elephant or a hippo?

49. Would you rather eat an entire cake or an entire carton of ice cream?

50. Would you rather stay up all night watching cartoons or skip a day of school?

51. Would you rather live in a cold climate so you could ski every day or a warm climate so you could swim every day?

Trivia Questions For Kids

1. Name the school that Harry Potter attended? Hogwarts

2. Which country is home to the kangaroo? Australia

3. Saint Patrick is the Patron Saint of which country? Ireland

4. From what tree do acorns come? Oak

5. Which big country is closest to New Zealand? Australia

6. How many colors are in a rainbow? 7

7. Which river flows through London? The Thames

8. What is the name of the bear in The Jungle Book? Baloo

9. Name the most famous nurse of Victorian Times who improved care for wounded soldiers? Florence Nightingale

10. What is the name of the toy cowboy in Toy Story? Woody

11. Pharaoh is the title given to the rulers of which ancient county? Egypt

12. Which Italian city is famous for its leaning tower? Pisa

13. Which fictional detective lived at 221b Baker Street? Sherlock Holmes

14. On a farm a kid is a baby what? Goat

15. What do you call a baby kangaroo? Joey

16. What do you call a group of fish swimming together? A school

17. What do you call a group of birds that fly together? A flock

18. What fruit has its seeds on the outside? Strawberry

19. Which English king had six wives? Henry 8th

20. What is the name of Harry Potter’s pet owl? Hedwig

21. How many US colonies were there? 13

22. Who was the second President of the United States of America? John Adams

23. Which US President delivered the Emancipation Proclamation? Abraham Lincoln

24. What is the fourth closest planet to the sun? Mars

25. What is the capital city of France? Paris

26. What is the largest jungle in the world? Amazon

27. What is the highest mountain in the world? Everest

28. How many days are there in March? 31

29. What’s the name of the woodcarver who created Pinocchio? Gepetto

30. What’s the name of the galaxy Earth is located in? The Milky Way

31. Name the four Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Donatello, Leonardo, Raphael and Michael Angelo

32. What’s the capital of Hawaii? Honolulu

33. What’s the name of the Greek God of the ocean? Poseidon

34. Who invented the printing press? Johannes Gutenberg

35. Who invented the lightbulb? Thomas Edison

36. Who painted the Mona Lisa? Leonardo da Vinci

37. What is the chemical compound that makes up water? H20

38. What is Mozart’s first name? Wolfgang

39. Who was the first female aviator to fly across the Atlantic ocean? Amelia Earhart

40. Who was the first aviator to complete a non-stop transatlantic flight? Charles Lindbergh

41. Name all seven dwarves from Snow White. Sleepy, Sneezy, Happy, Grumpy, Doc, Dopey, and Bashful

42. Name all four Great Lakes. Huron, Ontario, Michigan, Erie.

43. What’s the longest river in the United States? The Mississippi.

44. Which is the only US state that touches borders only one other US state? Maine

45. Which country gifted the Statue of Liberty to the US? France

46. What is the biggest desert in the world? Sahara

47. What is the natural force that makes objects fall when you drop them? Gravity

48. What’s the name of the fairy in Peter Pan? Tinkerbell

49. What’s the name of the sea with in Disney’s The Little Mermaid? Ursula

50. How many inches are there in a yard? 36

Get To Know You Questions For Kids

1. Do you have any brothers and sisters?

2. How old are they?

3. And what are their names?

4. How old are you?

5. When is your birthday?

6. Do you have any pets?

7. What’s your favorite animal?

8. What’s your favorite food?

9. What’s your favorite color?

10. What’s your teacher’s name?

11. What’s your favorite subject in school?

12. What’s your favorite sport?

13. What’s your favorite book?

14. What’s your favorite movie?

15. What did you have for dinner last night?

16. What does your mom / dad do for work?

17. What do you want to be when you grow up?

18. If you were granted three wishes, what would you wish?

19. Where do you go to school?

20. What are you studying right now?

21. Do you take the bus to school, the car, or walk?

22. What do you like to do at recess?

23. Do you have a best friend?

24. What’s their name?

25. Do you play any sports?

26. What is your favorite position to play?

27. Do you like riding bikes?

28. Do you have a scooter?

29. What does your bedroom look like?

30. What do you want for your birthday?

31. What’s your favorite tv show?

32. Do you like video games?

33. Do you like to dance?

34. What’s your favorite holiday?

35. What did you do today?

35. What is something fun you have planned?

36. Did you go on any playdates this week?

37. What do you like to do on playdates?

38. Do you have a favorite stuffed animal?

39. What’s their name?

40. Do you have an imaginary friend?

41. What’s your favorite part of school?

42. What’s your favorite thing to do on the weekend?

43. What’s your favorite thing to do in summer?

44. What’s your favorite thing to do in winter?

45. If you could visit any country in the world, where would you go?

46. If you could fly to outer space, which planet would you visit?

47. If you could have any pet, what kind of pet would you get?

48. What’s your favorite sweet?

49. How do you like to help out at home?

50. How do you like to relax after school?

Truth Or Dare Questions For Kids

Dares for kids

1. dare you to crack an egg over your head.Crack an egg over your head.

2. I dare you to do 20 pushups.

3. I dare you to eat a bowl of ice cream with no hands.

4. I dare you to crabwalk across the room.

5. I dare you to army crawl across the room.

6. I dare you to do a headstand.

7. I dare you to go get a (certain item from the oher room) with a blindfold on.

8. I dare you to eat a spoonful of mustard.

9. I dare you to chug from a bottle of hot sauce for five seconds.

10. I dare you to eat a raw egg.

11. I dare you to keep your eyes closed until it’s your turn again.

12. I dare you to act like a chicken until it’s your turn again.

13. I dare you to hop on one leg and howl like a wolf for two whole minutes.

14. I dare you to do your best impression of Kermit the Frog.

15. I dare you to roar like a lion for two minutes.

16. I dare you to sing “happy birthday” at the top of your lungs.

17. I dare you to do a cartwheel.

18. I dare you to dump a cup of ice water over your head.

19. I dare you to prank call your mom.

20. I dare you to draw a self portrait blindfolded.

21. I dare you to take off your shoes and socks with one hand.

22. I dare you to act like a cat until your next turn.

23. I dare you to act like a monkey until your next turn.

24. I dare you to chug a cup of milk.

25. I dare you to try juggling eggs.

26. I dare you to spin in circles for 30 seconds and then try to walk straight.

27. I dare you to hold an ice cube in you hand until it melts entirely.

28. I dare you to take an ice cold shower.

29. I dare you to do the macarena quietly until it is your turn again.

30. I dare you to go ask the neighbor for a cup of flour.

31. I dare you to stack five cookies on your forehead and balance them for thirty seconds.

32. I dare you to stuff ten marshmallows in your mouth at once.

33. I dare you to draw cat whiskers on your face without a mirror.

34. I dare you to swap clothes with someone in the room.

35. I dare you to go outside and scream “I’m a nose picker” at the top of your lungs five times.

36. I dare you to go outside and scream “I wet the bed” at the top of your lungs five times.

37. I dare you to finish every sentence with the words “with a cherry on top” for the rest of the night.

38. I dare you to let someone tickle you for 30 seconds.

39. I dare you to let someone do your hair the way they want and leave it that way for the rest of the night.

40. I dare you to have an entire conversation with a chair.

41. I dare you to sing what you have to say rather than talk for the next hour.

42. I dare you to toss three pieces of popcorn (or some other food) into your mouth.

43. I dare you to pretend to be a T-rex for two straight minutes.

44. I dare you to pretend to be a robot for three minutes.

45. I dare you to act like a mime for two minutes.

46. I dare you to take a bath with your clothes on.

47. I dare you to try talking without opening your mouth for two minutes.

48. I dare you to jump ten times while holding a full glass of water.

49. I dare you to mummify yourself with toilet paper.

50. I dare you to put all your clothes on inside-out and wear them that way for two hours.

Truth questions for kids

1. Have you ever farted and blamed someone else?

2. Have you ever watched a movie or TV show that you know you’re not supposed to?

3. When’s the last time you lied to your mom or dad and what did you tell them?

4. When is the last time you lied to your sister or brother and what did you tell them?

5. When is the last time you lied to your teacher and what did you say?

6. On a scale of 1 to 10, how messy is your room?

7. On a scale of 1 to 10, how messy is your closet?

8. Have you ever snuck a snack?

9. Have you ever said you finished your dinner when you really didn’t?

10. Have you ever cheated on a test?

11. Have you had your first kiss?

12. Do you have a crush on anyone?

13. What would you do with if you found $100?

14. If you could be a famous person, who would you be and why?

15. Have you ever faked being sick to stay home from school?

16. Have you ever used your lunch money for something other than food?

17. Have you ever said you did a chore when you didn’t?

18. What is the least favorite gift you’ve ever received?

19. Are you afraid of the dark?

20. Do you have any secrets?

21. Do you keep a secret diary or journal?

22. Is there anything that you would change about yourself?

23. What is your biggest fear?

24. Have you ever skipped school?

25. What is your worst habit?

26. When’s the last time you picked your nose?

27. Have you ever peed in a pool?

28. What is the grossest thing you’ve done this year?

29. Have you ever cried during a movie and if so, which one?

30. Have you ever broken something and blamed someone else for it?

31. Have you ever peeked at Christmas presents early?

32. Have you ever spread a rumor about someone?

33. Have you ever shared a secret someone told you in complete confidence?

34. Have you ever told someone that so-and-so has a crush on them?

35. Have you ever woken up crying from a nightmare?

36. What animal are you most afraid of?

37. Has a movie ever been to scary for you to watch?

38. Do you suck your thumb?

39. Do you still have your blankie from when you were little?

40. Do you every lie and say you’re full because you don’t like what’s for dinner?

41. What is the last lie you told a friend?

42. Have you ever pretended to be friends with someone?

43. Have you ever stretched the truth to get picked up early?

44. Have you ever cried because you miss your mom or dad?

45. What’s the last wish you made?

46. If you found a lucky penny, what would you wish?

47. What’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to someone’s face?

48. What’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said behind someone’s back?

49. What’s the meanest thought you’ve ever had?

50. What’s the biggest mistake you’ve ever made?

[crazyfishmaiden]

Every day now when lights go on and I get ready for the day my yoyo loaches and elephant noses group up and beg for food. It's just adorable to see how they are beginning recognize people = food and thus are becoming less shy, and more boisterous. Finally got around to some quick video. Hope you all enjoy!

[crazyfishmaiden]

Just some updates on the room tanks, plus Queen doesn't nearly put in enough time on camera.

[crazyfishmaiden]

Brief glimpse of my ornate bichir, and of course the elephant-nose butts were being wiggly.

[crazyfishmaiden]

"May I help you?"

Just love the look on the face of this elephant nose. Chilling out in Queen's hide. Yes she's in there but she doesn't seem to mind sharing one little bit.

[crazyfishmaiden]

All 7 Peters Elephant Nose eating, and being adorable wiggly things! So happy!

[crazyfishmaiden]

6 Elephant Nose fish

All mine! MINE MINE!

Brought them home today to go into Queens tank to be with flipper. Will update with cuteness once they have settled in.

This brings my shoal to 7 should all 6 do well.