#please observe how kip emotes through all of this

[kasienda]

Right Behind You - Ch 3: Akuma

Chapter 1: Scandal

Chapter 2: Friends

Chapter 3: Akuma

Chat Noir vaulted from one building to the next with the ease that came with almost a decade of practice. Even the explosions that tilted the ground with alarming frequency did nothing to throw off the hero’s balance or progression.

He landed in a crouch overlooking the akuma. The akuma was cemented into the ground with neon blue cannons on both arms, but able to pivot in every direction. Smaller turrets dotted the area in half a dozen concentric circles around the main villain.

It shot off a projectile that split off into six different pieces, each one flying towards a different building. Chat cringed as the missiles found their targets bringing down each building in what looked like controlled demolitions. Seismic waves crashed through the area seconds later.

Definitely not good. 

At least it was stationary. But it had enough firepower that getting close would be near impossible.

Maybe he should have dove in immediately, but he didn’t see any evidence of civilians, and he really wanted some backup because explosions sucked. Even if Miraculous Ladybug healed everything after the fact, fighting with broken ribs was not fun. Not remotely. And with the explosives coming at the end of heavy projectiles with homing capabilities, they would have to approach this one cautiously, and probably defensively. 

He groaned. He hated laying siege. It was going to take hours.

Carapace landed on the roof beside him. “How ya doing, Kit-Kat?” 

Chat Noir smiled in greeting, but his eyes remained laser focused on the akuma. “Honestly? I’ve had better days. You?”

“Same. I got almost no sleep last night. And the alert woke me from the absolute best nap I’ve had in weeks. Now, I’ve got a killer headache instead.”

The rooftop under them shook as a nearby building crashed to the ground in a heap of rubble.

“That is one nasty akuma,” Carapace said.

Chat Noir nodded in agreement as he opened up the extra-dimensional pocket in his baton and pulled out two little white pills. He held them out to his turtle-themed teammate. “I keep some extra strength Tylenol in my baton.”

Carapace’s face lit up as he took the offered medication. “Dude! I could kiss you!”

Chat smirked. “You’ll have to buy me dinner first.”

Carapace barked out a laugh. “I’m sure I could whip up a can of tuna for you, Kit-Kat.”

Chat shook his head playfully. “You’ll have to work harder to win my affections. I’ll have you know this cat has a very refined palette.”

Carapace laughed.

Chat Noir smiled. Maybe an hours-long siege wouldn’t be so bad. Definitely better than staying home alone in his oversized studio obsessing over every missed red flag from his “date” the day prior.

Maybe he should have gone on a date with Carapace instead. 

Keep reading on Ao3

“Shouldn’t we be fighting the akuma instead of standing around flirting?” 

Chat Noir and Carapace both turned around to see Rena Rouge standing behind them with her eyebrows raised in judgement. 

Chat just grinned, sweeping her into a sideways hug. “Rena! It’s been so long!”

“Missed you, too kitty. What’ve we got?” she asked, peering down over the edge of the roof.

“A demolition man?” Carapace observed, as another six buildings crumbled to the ground.

“Isn’t that a movie?” Chat asked. An old movie. Had Nino tried to get him to watch it? Nino loved any and all action flicks - new and old.

“Yup!” Rena confirmed. “My ex subjected me to it. Terrible movie.”

“Lies!” Carapace objected, shaking his head. “Don’t listen to her, Kit-Kat. Definitely worth your time.”

“I will never get those hours of my life back,” Rena said, drolly.

Chat Noir burst out laughing at the appalled expression on Carapace’s face.

“Guys! Let’s focus!” Ladybug’s voice interjected from behind them.

Chat started for a second, and then whirled towards her with a charming smile. “It’s good to see you, m’lady!”

She didn’t smile. “Not tonight, Chaton. Can we just get this over with?”

“Everything alright, boss lady?” Carapace asked, his lips curled downward into a slight frown.

She didn’t spare him a glance either. Instead, she watched the destruction below them without emotion. “I was having a good time with my friends for the first time in forever after an absolutely terrible week. And akumas…”

“Suck,” Carapace filled in.

“Exactly,” Ladybug agreed. “So, let’s get this over with and maybe the day can be salvaged. Chat, you go down the middle, Carapace go left of the building, and I’ll take the right. Rena, we need a ton of decoys. The goal is for all three of us to get there simultaneously and strike at once.”

Chat frowned, glancing away from the akuma and towards his partner. “Are you sure, m’lady? Wouldn’t it be better to huddle up, let Carapace cover us to get close?”

Carapace and Rena Rouge said nothing, both turned to Ladybug waiting for her response, but Ladybug’s face was still flat and impossible even for Chat Noir to read.

“If we split up,” he continued. “We’ll be more likely to get picked off. And the decoys will help, but they can’t replace an almost impenetrable shield against those missiles.”

“Playing this one defensively will take hours,” she said. “Let’s try the offensive strike first, and if it doesn’t work we can pivot quickly and we’ll be in a closer position to set up a shield.”

Adrien did not like it. She was asking him to gamble with their lives, with her life, to save time. Even Carapace and Rena exchanged a frown.

“Please,” Ladybug begged, taking a step forward, her blue eyes darting from one of them to the next, her face finally showing some emotion, and he did not like what he saw. “I really need to avoid an endless siege,” she whispered, her eyes suddenly glassy, threatening tears.

Her distress hit him like a punch to the gut. She clearly wasn’t okay, and hadn’t been for awhile. How had he failed to notice that she was far from okay? Because her tears now had nothing to do with the current akuma. This went deeper and he hadn’t noticed anything was wrong. How long had she been struggling while he ran in circles trying to keep his father happy in between grad school commitments?

He couldn’t remember the last time he had met up with her for a joint patrol or just took her out on a friend date, which had once been a regular thing between them.

He would have to make it up to her, and he could start with making this akuma go away as quickly as possible.

He nodded, and offered her a small smile. “Okay, m’lady. I know that if anyone can pull off a crazy plan, it’s you.”

She offered a watery smile in return and he felt his chest loosen for the first time since the akuma alert had sounded. The day wasn’t wasted if he could help her have a better one. 

“Thank you, Chaton,” she said. “I…” 

Her words were cut off as the building adjacent to them crashed to the ground in a crumbling free fall.

“Whatever we’re going to do, we should probably do it now,” Rena said. 

Ladybug’s soft vulnerable tears disappeared as she turned back to the akuma. Her usual game face - serious and sharp - took its place. And Chat couldn’t help the fond smile that bloomed across his face. Even when she was coming apart at the edges, she had so much strength. So much resilience.

“Rena, I want as many decoys as you can pull off,” Ladybug ordered. Rena nodded. “We’ll charge with a two second delay once the illusion is in place. Carapace, on the left, Chat in the middle, and I’ll take the right. Ready?”

“Aye aye, boss lady,” Carapace acknowledged with a salute.

The familiar sound of the flute rang through the air, and suddenly an army of countless Ladybugs, Carapaces, and Chat Noirs surrounded them protectively on all sides, just far enough apart that he didn’t really have to worry about touching them.

Chat launched himself off the rooftop towards the akuma. 

Missiles flew at the decoys, but the illusions dove sideways and away from the projectiles, most of them avoiding the collisions. The missiles were too fast though, and dozens of decoys clipped out of existence.

Chat Noir maintained his forward charge trying not to think about how unprotected he was. How unprotected his lady and Carapace were. 

The akuma was right in front of him - just a single vault away, when he stumbled - tripped over an errant piece of debris like a raw beginner who didn’t have nine years of experience under his belt. He took out half a dozen decoys himself as they ran straight through him.

He launched himself up from the cracked sidewalk immediately, but the damage was done. Carapace was stalled, fending off an unlucky aerial assault. Ladybug took the lead and reached the akuma first. But the villain fended her off easily with a backhand that sent her flying. Then fired off five missiles all tracking straight for Chat Noir who had just given away his position. 

He dodged around the first one easily enough. The second one, too. But the third cost him his balance, and he barely managed to swerve around the fourth. He ended up helpless on his knees, at the mercy of the fifth.

Every muscle locked, anticipating the blow, when Carapace slammed into him from the side, stealing his breath away. And they both ended sprawled across the unforgiving concrete. Before he could recover, the projectile hit the ground where he had been kneeling seconds prior.

The pavement launched upward, slamming him completely back to the ground. The sound was too loud to be heard, but he definitely felt it rip painfully through his body despite his protective transformation.

His ears - ringing with the aftershock - couldn’t hear anything else. But the protective green glow of Carapace’s shelter bloomed into existence around them, deflecting the worst of the next concussive wave over their heads. The ground remained unsteady beneath them though. 

Chat Noir allowed himself one deep breath before he kipped up to his feet and hauled Carapace to his, as his eyes rapidly took in the field on the other side of the green shield that was already cracking from a relentless assault.

“Please tell me this day is almost over,” Carapace growled out.

Most of the decoys had been decimated at this point - only a dozen or so remained, but Rena Rouge couldn’t create more without losing the current ones, which would reveal Ladybug’s position immediately.

Chat laughed. “I wish.”

He knew which one was actually Ladybug, though. It was in her single-minded focus. Every version of her was quick and graceful, able to pivot on the spot, and perform impossible dodges, but Ladybug always landed closer to her target than she started, determined as she was to end this battle. 

She truly was in rare form tonight. Her plan would likely have worked amazingly if he hadn’t screwed it up.

The akuma managed to take out another handful of decoys with his latest barrage of missiles. And then the akuma got lucky, and shot towards the real deal.

“Carapace-” 

She dove forward under the projectile, and then flipped back to her feet right in front of the akuma. 

“-drop the shield.” Chat Noir ordered, already running toward the barrier, not waiting for it to fall.

She snatched a keychain or a dog tag from the akuma’s neck, grinning in victory. She crushed it into pieces with her strengthened hands, but her grin dissolved when no butterfly emerged.

The green shield fell away. Chat put on a burst of speed.

The akuma swung his cannon arm and slammed it into Ladybug’s side. She was thrown sideways, and landed in a terrifyingly still puddle of red and black. 

The akuma pointed his rocket launcher towards her.

Chat Noir threw himself forward just as the akuma shot off the missile.

He took the blast square in the back. His suit no doubt offered some protection but this akuma had the power to bring down solid steel super frames. 

Chat Noir’s skeletal structure didn’t stand a chance.

Pressure exploded across his spine. The blinding pain came an instant later. It felt like he was being burned alive both inside and out.

He didn’t break his fall, his arms dangling lifeless at his sides. He landed face first, his chin striking the crumbling pavement sending a second wave of agony through his form.

He couldn’t breathe, let alone scream.

Was this what dying felt like? 

It had never hurt this bad before.

…

Carapace was still processing what Chat said when he took off like a bullet. Straight for the shield. Carapace frantically dissolved the barrier before his teammate could crash into it. Carapace shot after him, only a few paces behind, but he already knew it wasn’t enough.

His heart jumped up to his throat and time slowed to nothing as he watched Chat Noir take the hit meant for Ladybug, and crash to the ground, both his magical suit and skin torn to shreds, exposing raw bleeding tissue on his back and legs. 

Carapace threw himself into a roll to put himself between the akuma and his fallen companion, and landed sprawled against the black cat’s unmoving form, screaming for his shelter once again.

The shield went up not a second too soon, immediately taking hit after hit. The sound of cracking glass echoed overhead reminding him that the shield would only hold for so long against the maelstrom.

He glanced back, hoping he had managed to envelop Ladybug in the protective barrier as well. No such luck. She was just on the other side of the glowing green bubble. At least it was between her and the akuma. They made eye contact, and she jerked her head towards Chat. 

She wanted him to take care of her partner - not dive back into the battle. 

He nodded acknowledgement. 

A second later, she launched herself off the ground and took cover in the growing piles of rubble. 

His attention turned to Chat Noir who wasn’t moving. 

“Talk to me, Kit Kat!” Carapace shook his shoulder, but there was nothing, not so much as a groan. 

Up close, Chat looked even worse - like he had been chewed up and swallowed by a dinosaur, only to be spit back out. Carapace could only imagine how much pain he was in. Carapace had been knocked around more than his fair share in this line of work, but he’d never taken a hit that vaporized the suit away! 

He carefully rolled Chat to his side and then to his back, trying not to touch his injuries, which was almost impossible as they covered more than a third of his body. He was completely limp. Carapace leaned his cheek to Chat’s mouth, feeling for any signs of breathing. 

There wasn’t any. 

Carapace sucked in his own breath, his throat threatening to squeeze shut, and dread twisted his gut like a coiled snake. 

Carapace had seen Chat Noir put under mind control, transformed into various inanimate objects, erased or vaporized from existence. But he had never before had to confront a lifeless body. 

But surely the ladybugs could bring him back, right?

Another volley of missiles struck the outside of his barrier, the ground underneath them tilting sideways. The shield was holding. 

The sound of static buzzing filled the air and Chat’s transformation dropped.

Carapace was completely unprepared. They were adults. They hadn’t timed out in ages. And he jerked his gaze away, but unfortunately, Carapace could recognize his own best friend from just his clothes and shoes.

Especially when he had his face pressed to that shirt not thirty minutes prior.

His gaze whipped back up to the painfully familiar face, now marred with gashes and a rapidly forming bruise on his chiseled chin. 

“Opaque!” Carapace yelled. The translucent barrier turned a dark and solid green, though the cracks and fissures remained. He wouldn’t be able to see the battle, but that was better than losing Chat’s identity to all of Paris. 

Adrien’s identity.

The same Adrien who befriended him in collège when he had fallen into almost total isolation after his older brother had disappeared, the Adrien who had coaxed him through his first gig, the Adrien who had nursed him through his break up with Alya, who had held his hand through his bisexual awakening, the Adrien who had never failed to be there for him.

The Adrien who was his very best friend who was currently not breathing.

Nino cradled his best friend’s head in his lap as hot burning tears fell onto Adrien’s cheeks. 

“Carapace,” Chat’s kwami said. “He’s not okay.” 

“But he’s going to be okay, right?” Carapace asked, his eyes never leaving Adrien’s pale and lifeless form. “As soon as Ladybug fixes everything?”

“Probably not,” Plagg said. 

The two words struck him like a freight-train. His gut dropped out from underneath him as his heart rose up to his throat. His eyes burned, and the whole world went out of focus. He fell forward, his head pressed against Adrien’s as his sudden grief came out in wracking howls that sounded inhuman even to his own ears. 

He rocked back and forth, still holding Adrien close - if Nino held him close enough and hard enough, maybe he wouldn’t leave him. 

Nino knew that’s not how this worked. His throat cemented closed, and yet his devastated cries broke past the emotional blockade anyway.

“Carapace! Listen to me!” Plagg flew right into his face. “There’s a chance to save him! I need you to keep his heart going until Ladybug does her thing!” 

“W-what?” Nino stammered, staring at the kwami in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Turtle boy!” Plagg barked. “I need you to focus! Hands on his chest! Now! I will not lose this kitten!”

“You mean, like CPR?”

“Yes! Now!” 

Nino scrambled to comply, laying Adrien’s prone head gently on the ground, trying to ignore the stains of red on his own arms. He placed his hands on his friend’s chest. With elbows locked, Nino started pressing down hard over and over again.

“Faster!” Plagg directed. “Don’t stop!” 

Nino tried to focus on his own hands, and not on the hot tears slipping down over his mask, or the blood seeping on the cement to his knees, or the angry deep cuts that slashed across Adrien’s face, or Adrien’s closed eyes that might never open again. 

Nino tried to stamp down on his rising panic, tried to hold back the torrent of grief and tears, but he was failing. His whole form was crumpling in on itself as the wracking sobs kept coming in unrelenting waves despite his best efforts to hold them at bay.

“Don’t stop!” Plagg shouted again, diving towards Adrien’s jean pockets. 

Nino swallowed his fear and his devastation, forced it down until his gut swam sickenly. He fought off his desire to fold into a ball and howl to the universe about how this couldn’t happen. 

Instead, he forced himself to keep pressing down and up, and then down and up again on Adrien’s chest. It was a drum beat that he had to maintain, he couldn’t stop no matter how much his arms and shoulders burned in complaint. 

Because if he stopped, the world might end. 

If it hadn’t already. 

Plagg reappeared with Adrien’s phone in hand. A minute later he placed the device against Adrien’s bruised chin. A youtube tutorial on CPR was playing. Nino adjusted his rhythm to match the rapid counting in the video. It became mindless at that point, which unfortunately meant he had more ability to think.

It didn’t seem like it was working. Adrien wasn’t responding at all, and he was losing more blood with every thrust of Nino’s arms if the dark pool of red black at his knees was any indicator.

Nino lost his pace for a second overwhelmed with fear. What if it didn’t work? 

“Don’t stop!” Plagg shouted.

“He’s bleeding out!” Nino screamed back, syncing up with the video once again. “Aren’t I just making things worse?”

“Probably. I doubt anything is getting to his brain. But you’re not trying to revive him,” the kwami said, dismissively.

“I’m not?”

“No, you’re just trying to keep his soul here until Ladybug defeats the akuma.” 

“His s-soul?” Nino stuttered over the word, his desperate sobs now coming in torrents. 

His fucking soul? What was Nino supposed to do with that? It was too big and too much, and Nino didn’t know how to wrap his head around any of it. 

“P-please, Dri,” Nino begged, his voice cracking on the nickname. “P-please, don’t leave me.”

Nino’s arms kept the rhythm, never losing the pace. Even transformed, his shoulders and triceps were burning in protest, but Nino ignored it. Wayzz would provide all the endurance he needed.

The sound of shattering glass exploded overhead, spiderweb cracks spreading all across the dome.

“Fuck.”

The shield couldn’t take another hit. 

“Lose the transformation,” Plagg ordered.

Nino’s eyes whipped toward the cat kwami. “What?! Plagg! I don’t know how long I can do this without enhanced strength.”

“I will destroy anything that gets through until Wayzz has another shield up. You can’t do CPR and replenish our defenses over and over, simultaneously.”

“But… doesn’t a kwami using his power by himself make bad things happen?” ” Carapace objected out of habit, not because he particularly cared at the moment. Nino had never had the opportunity to see Wayzz without the limits of the miraculous. 

“Something bad has already happened! This is called damage control! We don’t have time to argue!”

Another splintering crack overhead seemed to punctuate Plagg’s point.

“Wayzz, shell off,” Carapace whispered. 

Immediately, his arms and back burned more intensely with the loss of the miraculous’s support, and Nino grunted with effort.

But he wouldn’t stop - not now, not ever. This was Adrien and he didn’t care if his arms fell off. He wasn’t going to give up on him.

“Cataclysm!” Plagg shouted, flying rapidly out of Nino’s line of sight. He didn’t worry about how much of the city block Plagg might take with him in destroying the incoming missiles, trusting the kwami would direct the damage AWAY from them. He didn’t worry about anyone being able to see his or Adrien’s identity. There was so much smoke that it wasn’t possible. And Nino didn’t worry about the fact that they were exposed or vulnerable. 

Adrien was already dead. If they got hit, then at least they’d go together.

Black ash rained down around them like some kind of ominous snow.

“Opaque Shelter!” Wayzz called half a second after. 

With the shield in place, Plagg whipped back down to Adrien’s shoulder watching intently. 

“Come on, Pigtails,” Plagg grumbled. “We’re running out of time.” 

Nino’s right arm spasmed in that moment, and he wasn’t sure if it was fatigue or the rising panic caused by Plagg’s words. 

“No! We can’t be out of time!” Nino screamed as if Plagg could control when Adrien’s soul was gone. Nino wiped his snot on his own shoulder, and turned his glare on Adrien’s face. “Do you hear me, Dri?!” Nino screamed, unable to wipe the tears dripping from his eyes over his nose to fall on his own now bare hands. “You can’t give up on me! You can’t!”

This wouldn’t be Adrien’s last day on Earth.

It couldn’t be. 

Because Nino didn’t know how to face the world without his best friend.

…

Adrien’s entire existence was pain. Everything was on fire - from the top of his head, through his body, to the tips of his fingers. All of it was pulsing in an agonizing rhythm. He thought the internal inferno centered on his chest, but his back felt like he had landed in a pool filled with glass shards. He couldn’t feel his legs at all, which considering how everything else was fairing, might have been a blessing. 

But it was his chest that cried out as it was struck again and again without care for his fractured ribs. 

Stop, he tried to say, begged from every inch of his mind. But the words would not form on his lips. Please, just let it end.

But the hammers to his chest kept coming, relentless and never ending. He urged his arms to action - to move, but every last bit of strength had been sapped away.

He prayed that it had been worth it - that Ladybug was alive and well - able to defeat the akuma without him. 

But his condition suggested otherwise. If Ladybug was okay, he would be too. 

Someone was crying hysterically just above him, well on their way to screaming. Their voice was broken and raspy.

It wasn’t Ladybug - the tone was too deep - but it struck a chord in him. He wanted to soothe it just the same.

I’ve survived worse, he wanted to tell the voice, though he had serious doubts if that was true. But being erased from the time continuum had to be worse, right?

“Dri?”

That was Nino. Adrien could only moan in response. 

“Shit! Plagg, I think he’s awake.” 

Why was Nino talking to Plagg? Plagg knew better.

“Don’t you dare stop!” his kwami ordered.

No. Please stop. It only came out as a whimper. 

Something hot and wet fell onto his cheek. “I’m so sorry, du-” Nino’s voice cracked before he finished the word. 

Nino was crying.

Adrien had made Nino cry. He hated that.

Adrien opened his eyes only to be assaulted with hard edges and burning lights that were far too bright. None of it made sense. He slammed them shut again, but it didn’t help. His head still wanted to split into halves.

“Dude! Take it easy!”

A warmth settled on his shoulder. Soothing vibrations pulsed through his neck. Like a cat’s purr. 

Plagg? 

“I know it hurts, kitten.” 

Adrien would have laughed had he been able. Hurt did not begin to describe the agony he was in. 

“But you will survive.”

The painful beat on his chest - so hard, so deep - like a stampede of gazelles were trampling over him - continued. It never stopped. 

Adrien wasn’t sure he wanted to survive.

The sobs from the boy above him - deep cries of pure despair - made him reconsider. Adrien would survive anything - go through any torture - to soothe Nino’s pain.

Mercifully, everything faded.

When Adrien woke up again it was to a miraculously pain-free world. He sighed, his whole body easing in relaxation. The memory of his torture was already fading fast. 

He opened his eyes again, but he still couldn’t bring the world into focus. There was a flash of green light of a miraculous transformation, but it was too bright. And Adrien let his eyes fall closed again. 

He pressed his hands down for balance, expecting to find debris and jagged fragments on the sidewalk below him. But the cold ground was smooth and undamaged. His hands were bare - he wasn’t transformed. He should have been transformed, shouldn’t he? They had been fighting an akuma.

The ladybugs had healed everything. But then, why did his head still feel like thick fog? 

“Dude! Can you hear me?” 

He wetted his lips. “Nino?” Adrien asked, recognizing the voice.

There was a beat of silence. “Yeah, it’s me, dude. Can you sit up?”

Adrien attempted to do so, and was surprised at how hesitant his muscles were to respond to his wishes. He managed to prop himself up with Nino was bracing him on both sides. Adrien leaned into the support. What was wrong with his body?

“Why?” The word came out slowly, as if Adrien’s mouth was just remembering how to form the sounds. “Why... is the world spinning?” 

Adrien wasn’t often one to complain, but usually, the ladybugs did a way better job.

“You sure he’s okay now?” Nino was asking. But who was he talking to? “Should I take him to a hospital?”

“He’s fine. The ladybugs healed him. The hospital wouldn’t know what to do with him now.”

Was that Plagg? Why was Plagg talking to Nino? Plagg should know better. Adrien clutched the sides of his head, in both hands. Why did nothing make sense?

But the nasally voice continued. “He wasn’t completely gone yet, so they could heal him. He’s physically fine now. Good job, turtle boy.”

“What about mentally?” Nino asked. 

Adrien squeezed his eyes closed. They weren’t helping him anyway, only making him dizzy. 

“You worry too much. He just needs twelve hours of sleep. He’ll be as perfect as a freshly opened wheel of camembert.”

Adrien snorted out a laugh. And it was surprisingly painless. He found himself smiling sleepily, and leaning into Nino’s chest, which felt a lot… more solid than normal.

“We don’t normally need twelve hours of sleep after a Miraculous Ladybug.” Nino’s voice was hard with frustration. “What’s different?”

“The difference is he died!” Plagg snapped back.

Adrien wanted to ask about that. What was the big deal? He had died countless times before, and it had never mattered before.

But the conversation faded away.

He woke again when he was laid down gently into his own bed. A heavy hand rubbed his shoulder soothingly. There was a beeping sound. A phone. And the hand disappeared. 

Adrien whimpered at it’s loss. 

“Yeah?” a familiar voice answered. It was still Nino. “LB, calm down. He’s okay. I took him home before anyone could see who he was. Plagg says he’ll be coherent again in twelve hours. I’ll tell him you want to see him for patrol tomorrow?”

And now Nino was talking to Ladybug like they knew each other well. It was like his worlds had smashed together like a meteor crashing onto the Earth’s surface and Adrien had somehow managed to sleep through the world ending collision. 

Was any of this real? Was he dreaming? 

He tried to sit up, but Nino’s sudden hand on his chest kept him down. Plagg curled up on his shoulder and started purring. Adrien stopped resisting and stayed down. 

“Yes, he was healed,” Nino said. “I don’t know. Plagg said it was normal for him to be out of it for a while even with the ladybugs because of… how badly he was hurt.” 

There was another pause, as the person on the other side of the conversation - presumably Ladybug - responded. 

“I promise he’s okay. Yeah… of course. I’ll be right there.” And the comforting weight on his chest vanished. 

“Plagg?” Nino called. “Can you let him know that he has a patrol with Ladybug tomorrow at the normal time? I gotta run.”

Adrien’s chest tightened at that announcement. 

“You’ll call me if anything changes?” Nino continued.

“Sure, kid,” Plagg said, still curled up on Adrien’s shoulder. 

Adrien tried to sit up again, but his body wasn’t listening to his brain. “N-Ni…no?” he forced the name past his lips. Why was it so hard to speak? 

The smooth gloved hand was on his chest again, easing his anxiety. “Just rest, mec.”

But the hand disappeared again too fast and too soon. 

“D-don’t… g-go,” Adrien managed to string together. 

The comforting presence came back, and this time Adrien pinned Nino’s arm to his chest with both his hands, determined to keep him there this time. “Okay,” Nino reassured, and slid into the bed lying prone alongside him. Adrien’s body finally melted in relief. 

“I’ll stay until you go to sleep,” Nino said.

For a beautiful moment all the tension in his body seeped away, and he just let himself drift. But a few seconds later, he processed Nino’s words and his eyes shot open.

Because Adrien didn’t want to sleep. Something was clearly wrong. He looked frantically around at the walls, ceiling, and furniture. Adrien recognized none of it. There were too many lights and colors and none of it made any sense, and it felt like the walls were closing in on him. What the hell was wrong with him? 

“N-Nino?” Adrien called, his eyes burned and his throat was closing off. “W-what…?” but he couldn’t get the rest of the words out. And it was hard not to panic. His breathing quickened, and his heart took off like there was a race to be won. 

He sucked in air frantically, because he wasn’t getting any. His chest spasmed painfully, and his arms were shaking, and his fingers tingling. The tremors spread to his extremities, the numbness only a second behind. He tried to stop the convulsing, he tried to hold it still, but he couldn’t do it. The pinpricks spread to his head, and his vision spun worse than it already was. 

“Dude!” Nino jumped in, clutching Adrien’s head in either hand. His hands were gloved and hard. 

Was it really Nino? It didn’t feel like Nino, and Adrien didn’t trust his eyes that were incapable of making sense of anything at the moment. 

“You need to stay calm. Breathe with me,” Nino said, their foreheads pressed together, but Nino was wearing some kind of hood - it was hard… like Chat Noir’s armor.

“Dri!” 

The exclamation cut through all of Adrien’s panicked thoughts. That was definitely Nino. Whatever he physically felt like, no one else called Adrien that. Nino had come up with the diminutive nickname a few years ago, shortly after he had broken up with Alya. He didn’t use it often - it was usually dude, mec, man, guy, but in the quiet moments, Nino would call him Dri. And Adrien loved it, especially when Nino was the one saying it.

“Can you do that, Dri? Breathe in slowly.” 

And Adrien trusted Nino more than anyone, except maybe Ladybug, and even then, he thought it might be a tie.

And so he listened. He breathed in deeply and slowly on a count of four before letting it back out again for another slow count of four from his best friend. 

His panic gradually receded. And he just lay there keeping his eyes closed, his hand clinging onto Nino’s - when had he even grabbed Nino’s hand - as if his life depended on it. 

Nino was still wearing the thick solid gloves. 

Nino didn’t wear gloves. Not ever. 

“What happened?” Adrien asked slowly, pleased that the words strung together fully and clearly. 

Nino’s grip tightened. “I promise I’ll explain it to you later, Kit-Kat. Plagg says you need rest.”

Had Nino just called him Kit-Kat?

“Plagg always…” Was he seriously talking about Plagg with Nino? This had to be a dream. “Plagg always votes-” Adrien’s sentence was punctuated by a yawn, “-for laziness.”

“I think Plagg may be onto something this time,” Nino said.

Adrien wanted to argue. He hated it when people didn’t explain things. When people kept secrets. And he knew he was the biggest hypocrite on that front, but he would have told Nino everything years ago if it had been his choice.

But his head was growing heavy, and his thoughts were still smothered in a muggy fog, so he didn’t protest.

“I love you, Dri,” Nino whispered. “You have no idea how much. Please. Please, don’t ever do that to me again.”

I love you, too.

…

Chapter 4: Fallout

[the-melting-world]

The Empress | Side B: “The Fear”

Art by @markmefistov

~ In which a humble gardener opens Strength’s Door…

The Trio Appearances: Kipling | Khleo | Ozy

Arcana LI appearances: Asra | Nadia | Muriel 

Track Origins: “The Fear” by Ben Howard

Not sure if this is the right track? The full album can be found here: The Empress

cw: none

~ 2k words

After Kipling, Ozy, Nadia, and Asra return from the underwater library, Ozy leaves Kipling with the gauntlets, reminding her that he still has to show her how to permanently unlock her third eye.

“Trust me, Kip,” Ozy said with a reassuring smile, “once your third eye is open, you’ll have a much better time navigating the portals.”

With that Ozy let Nadia escort him back inside the Palace. Earlier in the library, he and Kip had agreed to save their lesson in grey magic for the next day. Kipling appreciated Ozy’s patience with her. She could tell he wanted her to be as comfortable as possible before they started unpacking everything from the past.

She was grateful to him for that.

***

(Nadia’s POV)

Nadia walked with Ozy back to his chambers. When they arrived, she waited by the door while he removed his gauntlets and set them aside on the dresser. Nadia wasn’t sure why she hadn’t yet left the grey mage to his business. Her agenda was packed with meetings with foreign dignitaries and not to mention she had a desk full of letters that needed responding to.

And yet, there were other things clouding Nadia’s mind. Like intricate spiraling details across a pearly, artificial surface that stretched so far in every direction. 

“That machine in your library,” Nadia said, starting quietly at first. “The one underwater. Is that where it’s meant to be kept?”

After Ozy took off his gauntlets, he rolled his wrists a few times and walked back towards the Countess.

“The Nautilus? Yes, that’s its primary function – traveling through water. Makes it easier for deep sea exploration.”

This piqued Nadia’s interest even further. “A vessel that never needs to surface?”

Ozy was standing before the Countess now, his expression friendly and eager to keep engaging with her on the topic.

“It does! But not often.”

Nadia hummed. “I see. Like a whale. Or a turtle.”

A soft glimmer flashed behind Ozy’s eyes, as if he were thinking of the same comparisons.

“Yes. Exactly.”

Nadia, who was content to invite Ozy to walk with her, said, “That’s fascinating, Oz. What an incredible find.”

Ozy fell into an easy stride beside the Countess, his hands tucked comfortably in the pockets of his crisp pants. “Hm. Thank you, but I didn’t stumble upon that vessel. You did.”

“What do you mean you…” Nadia slowed to a stop. Ozy mirrored her and turned so that he was facing her, his lip quirking in what she read as a hopeful challenge. That’s when Nadia quickly assembled the pieces of his implications.

“Oz… do you mean to suggest that you built such a thing?”

Ozy looked off to the side rather sheepishly as he shrugged his shoulders.

“Abaco helped.”

Once again, the grey mage had left the Countess at a loss for words. 

As if to put her at ease, Ozy added, “I built a lot of things over the years, Countess. Fixed a lot of things.” His hazel eyes drifted skyward. “Broke a lot of things too now that I think about it.” His hand wandered up to absently scratch at his five o’clock shadow. “Mostly because I ran out of stuff to fix. Not really any other option in that case but to break some things. Otherwise I wouldn’t have…” Ozy’s speech turned into uninterrupted mutterings.

Nadia realized he would have never stopped if she hadn’t said, “Oz, please.” 

That was enough to call back his attention.

“As long as you’re here,” Nadia reached for both of Ozy’s hands, “I want you to call me Nadia.”

Ozy looked down at where she held lightly onto his long fingers, and then back up again. 

“Oh. Like Asra and Kipling do?”

Nadia gave a deliberate nod. “Yes.”

Ozy blinked, the confusion written plainly across his face. “But they’ve known you longer.”

The Countess shook her head. “I know it might seem strange, but that does not matter to me.”

The grey mage was silent for only a moment before he grunted in gentle understanding. He pressed his rather nimble fingers more firmly against Nadia’s.

“You’re ambidextrous,” Ozy noted. “Like me.”

Nadia couldn’t help her face from heating slightly at his observation.

“You’re correct about that.... How did you know?”

Ozy continued to test and trace his fingers around the Countess’. 

“These hands have solved a lot of puzzles. To the point where it’s impossible for them to ignore the details in fact. So… Nadia,” he locked eyes with her, his gilded lip curling into a soft smile, “what’s the story with your hands?”

Nadia grinned, trying to gauge the line where Ozy’s friendliness blurred into flirtation. 

“I’m not sure if there’s a way I can express this without sound like I’m bragging, but my hands do know their way around a workshop.”

Once again, Ozy’s eyes lit up. “A workshop, really? Will you show me?”

Nadia gently guided her hands out of Ozy’s and up around his bicep, linking her arm through his.

“I can take you there, but I won’t be able to join you again until late this afternoon. I have a city to help govern as you might have gathered.”

“Right.” Ozy said with a respectful nod. “You don’t have to worry about me, Nadia. I can always find ways to keep myself busy until you return.”

“Oh, Oz.” 

Nadia thought back to that vessel, immense and pristine, resting at the bottom of a deep pool. 

“I have no doubt about that.”

***

Kipling noticed that Abaco didn’t follow Ozy and Nadia when they left the garden. The bird was content to stay behind and play with Taro and Faust. There was something Kipling found soothing in watching the three familiars interact. So she sat there right in the grass next to a hedge of snowball viburnums. 

Asra, who knew Kip’s behaviors very well by now, was happy to take a seat and curl up right beside her.

“Asra, there’s something I have to tell you.”

The magician breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that it wouldn’t show. He wrapped his arm around Kip’s shoulder and placed his other hand in her lap. “I’m listening.”

In the past, Kip had looked elsewhere, anywhere but directly at Asra, only occasionally flicking her gaze up to meet his. That wasn’t the case this time. Her syrupy brown eyes were fixed on him as she spoke. She seemed determined to give him her full attention.

“When you came by Muriel’s cottage, did he tell you about the reading he gave me?”

Asra swallowed. “Yes. But only a little. He said you drew the Empress.”

“Reversed,” Kip clarified. “I’ll be honest. I’ve been neglecting to tell you the whole truth about Ozy and Khleo… well, Khleo specifically.”

“You don’t talk about them much,” Asra noted. He also didn’t miss how Kip’s eyes would glaze over whenever Ozy mentioned the umbra’s name.

Kip sighed. “I’m ready to talk about them now. Asra, I knew Khleo for a long time before meeting Ozy. They kept my secrets, they were the one I confided in whenever I needed it. When Ozy came around and I didn’t want to have anything to do with him, it was Khleo who taught me about kindness and acceptance. I don’t think I can explain how close we were…”

“You loved them. You still love them.”

Kipling could tell by Asra’s tone that he must have known all this time.

Kip took a moment to work out the tremors in her upper body. Asra squeezed her hand in reassurance.

“We never confessed it aloud, but the day that Khleo was taken by the Door, I was so sure that they were going to say it first.” Kip caught a sob. “There just wasn’t enough time.”

Asra pulled Kip until her face rested against his collarbone. He removed his red scarf and wrapped it around her shoulders. By now the three familiars had gathered onto both of their laps. Taro was determined to soothe Kipling with her head nuzzles and soft chirps.

While Asra rubbed her spine, Kip managed to choke out, “When I portaled to Strength’s gate, I saw Khleo and those feelings were still there, Asra. I don’t know what to do. I know I’m supposed to go see the Empress, but I want… all I can think about is…”

“There was something else Muriel told me,” Asra said. “On the morning you left, the ground all around his cottage was covered in daisies. They could have only come from you. He said there were so many of them, magically conjured to stay in bloom for much longer than normal.”

“Daisies,” Kip sniffed. “They were in Strength’s realm too.”

“Well, they’re all around us right now.”

Kip opened her eyes and sat up. Asra was right. The magical daisies had appeared in the garden. There were thousands of them, packed so tightly it was almost impossible to see the grass.

It wasn’t unnatural for Kip’s green magic to behave in this way. Most of how she managed it was based on her emotions. But she had never seen anything like this.

“Kip,” Asra said, “what if you used the daisies to find your way back to Strength’s realm?”

She tore her eyes away from the flowers and looked at the magician with a mixture of uncertainty and surprise. “You think I should go to Strength’s realm? Without Ozy?”

Asra nodded, his lavender eyes serious. “I’ll go with you.”

“But what if–”

“It was you who said that you can’t bring yourself to meet the Empress right now. What if drawing that card means that you have to face your feelings about Khleo before moving forward?”

Kip’s drew a heavy breath. There were so many what ifs. What if Khleo didn’t remember her? What if Strength tried to bite her head off again? What if…

“Kip.” Asra placed his hands on either side of her face and steered her into a kiss. “I’ll be there with you. We fought the Devil, remember. We can pay Strength a visit. We’ll come to the front door this time instead of dropping out of nowhere. If she doesn’t want to let us in, then she won’t.”

When Asra put it like that, the stakes didn’t seem so high. 

Brrrrr.

Kip looked down to see Taro holding up her new pair of gauntlets. Faust bobbed her head in encouragement and Abaco fluffed his feathers once before using his beak to flick a switch on the gauntlet so that it hummed to life.

Once Kipling had donned them and stood up, she took a deep breath and did her best to rely on what she knew. To her amazement, the gauntlets made it so much easier to detect the control pad that opened the Doors.

Kipling activated the invisible motherboard and gasped when she saw more daisies growing spontaneously in the air. They shot off a few feet to Kip and Asra’s left, circled once and then again in a double ring – the outline of a Door.

“That must be the way to Strength’s gate,” Asra whispered. 

Kip’s gauntlets gave a sharp whine as she felt them tug her towards the highlighted portal. Asra followed behind Kip as she drifted in that direction. Abaco flew ahead, tweeting madly and whizzing to the path of the daisies. 

Kipling reached out until she connected with the lever handle to the Door. She found it easily, as if a magnetic force linked her gauntlet to the portal. 

Then Kip pushed until the lever rotated. The Door squeaked as it opened. That magnetic tug was back, but this time it wanted to get away from Kip. She tentatively released the lever and watched as the door snapped open. Wider, wider, wider – 

“You have to lock it, Kip!”

Kip gasped at the memory of a younger Ozy hollering at her while a storm grew over their heads. This sparked a second memory of a Door that grew too great for any of them to handle. She couldn’t let that happen again. 

Kip glanced over at Asra and remembered. She would never let another Door take off with someone she cared about.

Her gauntlet glowed brighter. Kip listened to the hum…

The gardener caught the lever before it could get away from her and spin completely out of control. She sensed a new type of pull and followed it, anchoring the lever into a small depression that wasn’t visible to the naked eye.

Glittery light sparked all along Kipling’s knuckles. Abaco was absolutely delirious with excitement. The daisies dissolved, but there was water on the other side of the Door, churning smoothly, without turbulence.

Through the tunnel of seawater and shimmering light, Kip felt the call of clear summer skies and rolling hills blanketed in wildflowers.

[juniperwindsong]

Necessary Monsters (4/16)

Summary:  "I have done my best since I've been back to make sure no one got to her, but it's a bit of full time gig, that. I warned her to stay out and let me handle it.” "You thought she would stay away if you just told her to? Have you ever met Juniper?"

   Post to the dragon infested wilds of northeastern Peru is not always possible, and what birds do manage it are never timely. Which is why Felix does not read Rita Skeeter's article on Juniper Windsong* until several months after his graduation. "From Cursebreaker to Quidditch Darling: A Witch of Many Hats" declares the headline, set above a photograph of an awkwardly smiling Juniper. She’s giving the camera a surprised sort of half-wave, as though only aware of its presence a second before the flash. 

   So far, Felix has done a successful job putting his crush on his school friend from his mind, aided by the million and one things he has to learn about his new and dangerous job. But something about the picture-Juniper's expression touches that part of him still nursing a soft spot for her. He severs the photograph from the article with his wand, tucking it carefully into a trouser pocket. And for the next three years, that's where it stays; his only aid in recalling her face with the precise detail he craves more and more frequently.

   The body on the hospital bed has the same features, slightly aged. But Felix cannot reconcile it with the Juniper he knows. There's no sign of life in her, beyond the incessant twitching of her fingers. Closer inspection reveals her myriad tiny cuts to be deeper than Felix initially realised. The wounds, while magically sealed, are puckered and raised. He knows each one will leave a small scar.

   And her face. Her face is entirely expressionless. It reminds Felix of the mannequins at the hospital's entrance. No one could confuse her condition with merely sleeping.

   How long he stands by the bed minutely inspecting each injured part of Juniper, Felix isn't sure. His brain is strangely detached, as if it's reached the limit of what it can process in one day and has recused itself from any further analysis. Felix can't really blame it. In the span of one morning, he’s fallen from exuberant high-spirits through various layers of unexpected terror before bottoming out in wretched guilt. Now, with no action left to keep up momentum, the rapid rush of conflicting emotion burns out, leaving numb exhaustion in its wake.

   Only when his knees start to feel shaky once more does Felix remember the thing he's leaning against is a chair, and he drops into it. It's a comfortable, winged armchair, most unlike the hard, wooden chairs Madam Pomfrey conjures for guest use in the Hogwart's Hospital Wing. He wonders briefly if all the rooms in St Mungo’s are equally accommodating or if it indicates this patient's need for more regular supervision.

Felix sinks deeper into the cushions gratefully. Perhaps it's the lack of sleep, or the fact that he's been denied furniture this comfortable for years, but drowsiness begins to trickle through his limbs enticingly. Keeping his eyes open is suddenly a herculean task...

-

   Felix only knows he's fallen asleep when the soft click of the hidden door unlocking wakes him. Disoriented, he struggles from the chair, fumbling for his wand. But the witch who enters, a short, curly-haired woman in lime-green robes, says "Dragon-Heart String," promptly before he's able to pull it from his pocket.

   "You're awake this time," the healer observes crisply, striding to the bedside table. "Good. I was beginning to worry you'd been cursed as well."

   Felix makes a production of stowing his wand back into his rumpled robes, surreptitiously wiping sleep from his eyes and giving the heat in his face time to cool. When he turns back to the bed, the healer is running her wand over Juniper's chest slowly, the wood just brushing the white sheet. The wand tip glows a deep, pulsing red and the healer nods once as if in confirmation.

   "What are you doing?" asks Felix.

   "Checking her vital signs," replies the healer. "Her heart rate is slowing."

   She says this so matter-of-factly it takes a minute for Felix to process it isn't a good thing. His own heart begins to beat double-time.

   "Surely you can fix that?"

   The healer shakes her head once, iron-gray curls bouncing. She reaches for a small bottle on the bedside table and uncorks it, upending the contents onto a bit of cloth.

   "Not unless we can discover what spell was used on her." The healer begins dabbing the cloth gently over the angry red cuts on Juniper's face. "Nothing we've tried has worked so far.  I have my trainee researching rare curses and sleep enchantments, but-" She clicks her tongue doubtfully.

   In spite of her brusque tone, Felix's notices the healer's motions are exceedingly gentle. She takes her time, massaging the cloth over each small wound on Juniper's face down to her exposed neck. Something in her tender ministrations betrays concern, and an echo of the morning's fear slithers back through Felix's veins.

   "But... she's going to be alright...isn't she?"

   The healer looks up at him abruptly, cloth stilling on Juniper's shoulder.

   "Has no one explained to you what's happened to this girl?

   "They - he said - she was attacked."

   The healer regards him steadily. "She has been tortured. See her hands? That's a sign of prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse. Pain like that has permanent effects on the body and the mind. It can quite literally drive a person mad.  Even if we manage to wake her, I doubt very much whether she will be 'alright'."

   Felix's heart beat climbs into his throat. He swallows hard, trying to wrap his mind around this new and terrifying possibility.

   "There has to be something you can do," he protests weakly. The healer shakes her head again, curls bouncing.

   "Not against that sort of magic." She sets her cloth back on the beside table and contemplates Juniper's lifeless form, hands on hips. "There’s research being done into alleviating the effects of the Cruciatus Curse, but nothing practical has come of it so far." Her jaw tenses in the first real emotion Felix has seen from her. "There’s a reason that Curse is unforgivable."

   The healer bends over the bed to smooth down the sheet, tucking excess fabric in around the inert body. Satisfied with the result, she straightens and considers Felix carefully.

   "So. Do you think you can manage to stay awake through the evening now you've had your kip, or should I call in a trainee to relieve you?"

   There's no hiding the burning in his face this time, but Felix draws himself up in spite of it and tries to look as competent as possible.

   "It won't happen again, I assure you."

   She gives another curt nod and bustles around the bed.

    "There's a bell on the table. Give a ring if anything changes. My trainee will hear it."

-

    Foregoing the treacherously cosy armchair, Felix perches on the edge of the bed beside Juniper's trembling hand. Even without the healer's admonition, he would not have been able to return to sleep.

   Fears for Juniper's safety have always plagued Felix. He's endured more than one restless night worrying what might be happening to her thousands of miles away. But everything he's imagined feeling should the worst occur - grief and pain and regret - such easy emotions have no place here. What Felix feels he has no words for. There's only a wrenching in his gut and a scream building in his chest, threatening to erupt uncontrollably, like vomit. Dead or mad, somehow both carry the same crushing weight. The thought that who Juniper is will be gone forever is inconceivable. It pulls at the very threads of Felix's mind, stretching it in the most horrid way.

    Felix reaches for Juniper's hand, cradling it delicately in both of his own like an eggshell. He can feel the restless twitching of her fingers, every other part of her so unnaturally still. She's never been this still in life, he thinks. And the unconscious word choice brings horrified tears to his eyes he cannot blink away.

   Felix hasn't cried since he was a small child. It was never an acceptable expression in his family. Even now, a part of him twinges with fear as tears run sloppily down his cheeks and nose. Some instinct imprinted in him aches with the memory of the physical pain crying awards. But jinxes and hexes seem like nothing to Felix now. He would take them in a heartbeat over this.

   Tears seem to loosen Felix's tongue, and all the confessions and apologies churning inside him burst forth unbidden.

  “Juniper. Oh, gods, Juniper. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

   He lifts her hand to his lips, pressing them against her knuckles, and then her fingertips, uncurling her shaking fingers to place a kiss against her palm. It's riddled with tiny cuts, and older, shiny pink scars.

   Felix knows the story behind those now: souvenirs of her fight with the guardian of the Vault of Ice in her second year. Thirteen years old, and battling for her life against an enchanted knight, unmoved by her age or her lack of experience. By all accounts, it's a fight Juniper should never have survived. But she did. Somehow, she always does.

   Felix sniffs and wipes the heel of his free hand across his cheeks.

  “Juniper, please. Please, be okay," he murmurs against her fingers like a prayer. "You can fight this. Whatever it is. You're strong. The strongest person I know, and I-” He chokes as a sob tries to escape around his words. "I need you to be okay. I need-"

   Felix's words are interrupted by the door opening for a second time. And something in the way the lock clunks, a louder, more forceful sound than it's usual click, sets his nerves on edge. Dropping Juniper's hand, he whips around and draws his wand in one smooth motion, pointing it directly at the man whose back is now pressed against the closed door.

   The intruder is dressed in lime green robes, but they fit him uncomfortably, a size too small for his well-built frame, and Felix doesn’t have to recognise him to know he isn’t really a healer. Except for the fact that his face isn't cracked into a lop-sided grin, the man looks exactly as Felix remembers, even if it's been over a decade since they last met. The man's hand tightens over his own wand as he catches sight of Felix's, but he adjusts his face to something politely professional.

   "Sorry, must have the wrong room."  

   His hand is on the doorknob when Felix says, "Jacob Windsong."

   If Juniper's brother is startled at being recognised, he doesn’t show it.  He merely furrows his brow at Felix curiously.

   "Do I know you?"

   "Felix Rosier.”

   Jacob cocks his head in mild surprise. "Blimey. Didn’t recognise you."

  "It's been a long time." Felix's voice is calm, but he can feel anger bubbling up inside him. If there’s any one person who is really to blame for Juniper's condition, it’s the man in front of him.

   "For you, maybe," replies Jacob cryptically. He glances from Felix to the bed. "I see you've met my sister. How is she?"

   Jacob's conversational tone, as though they've met at the grocer's and are forced by social convention to make polite inquiries after one another, strains Felix's self-control.

   "How does she look?" he asks wildly, a flailing hand indicating the bed beside him. "She's been tortured and cursed! No one at the school could wake her, and the healers don't even know if she'll survive! Thanks to you!"

   Jacob flinches as if Felix has thrown something at him. "It's not my fault."

   "Are you mad?" Felix's temper rises with each word. "You're the reason she's here! She got herself mixed up in cursed vaults and bloody cults looking for you!"

   "I know. And I am sorry about all that. And I have done my best since I've been back to make sure no one got to her, but it's a bit of full time gig, that. I warned her to stay out and let me handle it.”

   Felix's mirthless laugh is dangerously close to a shriek. "You thought she would stay away if you just told her to? Have you ever met Juniper?"

   Jacob ignores this, considering Felix curiously instead.  

   "How do you know Juniper? What are you doing here?"

   Heat creeps up Felix's cheeks and his indignation flags. "I...was her prefect in school. Now, we're...friends."

   Jacob takes in Felix's words and the obvious embarrassment rising in his face, and gives a hearty guffaw.

   "Friends?" he repeats, his shoulders jerking with short harsh laughs.

   "Yes," Felix declares, chin raised defiantly. "She needed someone to look after her for the last six years while you've been missing." He gives the last word a sarcastic emphasis, and Jacob's smile becomes a grimace.

   "Oh, well, you've certainly done a bang-up job, haven't you?" he mocks, and Felix snaps.

   "Impedimenta!" he cries without stopping to think. The spell is unexpected, and Jacob has no time to block it. He throws himself sideways, hitting the floor in a roll and straightening up on the other side of the bed, wand raised defensively.

   "Bloody hell, you want to bring whole hospital in here?!"

   "Get out, then," demands Felix, breathing rapidly.

   Jacob eyes Felix’s outstretched wand, then the bed where Juniper remains motionless. With a sigh, he lowers his wand.    

   "Believe it or not,” he says testily, adjusting his too-right robes, “I didn't risk my life and freedom just to come here and have a chinwag with you." He takes a cautious step closer to the head of the bed. "I'm here to help."

   "How can you possibly help?"

   “I think I know what curse was used on her. I might be able to wake her up.”

   Hope flickers to life inside Felix, nudging his anger aside. "How could you know that? The professors don't even know."

   Jacob gives a derisive snort. "Let's just say, I know the way this organization works." He holds up a hand to stifle Felix's further questions. "But it’s too complicated to explain now. Just let me try something."

   Taking another step, Jacob lifts his wand again, pointing it toward Juniper.

   "Expelliarmus!"

   Jacob's wand leaps from his outstretched hand to the floor, where Felix summons it quickly and sticks it into his back pocket. He aims his own wand directly at Jacob's face, now screwed up in irritation.

   "Merlin's pants, I said I'm trying to help her!”

   "How do I know you’re really who you say you are? You could be someone from R disguised as Jacob Windsong come to finish his sister off. Or you could have been working with them all along."

   Jacob crosses his arms. "That'd be a pretty stupid disguise, don’t you think? I’m wanted by the Ministry and Dumbledore and several other parties, none of which are looking to buy me a drink. Hardly the best way to get around, got up as a wanted criminal."

   True, but Felix doesn't lower his wand. Jacob sighs and spreads his arms wide in supplication.

   "How can I prove I’m me, then? You don’t know the first thing about me, so it’s not like I can answer any questions." He gestures vaguely toward Felix. "I remember meeting you once last year. Or..." He pauses, and obvious unease crosses his features. "No. I suppose... it was quite a few years ago, wasn't it? Time is still a bit...” He waggles his fingers vaguely. "Anyway, I saved your arse from some Gryffindor you were picking on. That do?"**

   The only other person Felix has ever related this story to is Juniper. He supposes Jacob himself could have told an associate, but it seems unlikely.

   "So, you’re you," acknowledges Felix grudgingly, his wand arm beginning to ache. "That doesn’t mean you’re on her side."

   "I have always been on her side," argues Jacob. Felix lets out a  "Ha!" of disbelieving laughter, and Jacob's eyes flash. "Look, believe what you like about me, it’s probably not half true. But I have always loved Juniper and done everything I could to keep her safe."

   Felix laughs again, a harsh sound devoid of any humour. He feels as incensed as Jacob looks.

   "You don’t think it’s killed me to find out everything that’s happened to her while I’ve been trapped?" Jacob protests. "That she's been all on her own? Facing my enemies?"

   "Then why didn’t you stay with her when she found you?" counters Felix. “She’s devoted nearly half her life to finding you, at the expense of everything and everyone. And you wouldn't even give her the time of day!"

   "You don't know what you're talking about!" Jacob's voice has risen now, too. "You don't have the first idea what's really going on or what these people are capable of. This isn't over, and Pip won’t be safe until it is! I started this mess and I have to finish it. I owe it. To her!"

   A brief silence follows this declaration. Felix's wand arm drops a few degrees.

   "Pip?" he asks, his voice strained, unsure if it wants to laugh or cry or yell some more.

   Jacob blinks. "Juniper," he explains. "That's what I called her. When she was a kid." A very small smile breaks up the storm clouds in his face. "She always hated it."

    Jacob's smile is so similar to the genuine one Felix has seen in rare moments on Juniper's own face it causes his stomach to somersault. And the dreadful possibility of never seeing that smile aimed at him again smothers Felix's anger. For a minute, both men can only stare at the girl lying lifeless on the bed, entirely unmoved by their screams or spells. The reality of the danger she's in hovers ominously over them both.

   When Jacob speaks again, his voice is soft and urgent. "If you're really her friend, then you'll let me try the counter curse. If I'm wrong, it won't hurt her. I promise."

   Felix's wand wavers, then falls. He reaches into his back pocket for Jacob's wand and holds it out to him. Jacob receives it with a short nod of thanks. Gazing down at his sister, he runs a hand over her hair just once, pushing it back from her forehead.  Felix feels a quick pang of irrational jealousy. Without further sentiment, the elder Windsong aims his wand at Juniper's temple and mutters something under his breath.

   Nothing happens.

   Felix waits expectantly for Jacob to try again, but the man simply tucks his wand away and addresses Felix.

   "Listen, when she wakes up - "

   "What do you mean, 'when she wakes up'?" Felix interrupts. "It didn't work."

   Jacob shakes his head. "It will. Or it should. It isn't instant. But, I think the curse is lifted, she's just asleep now. Look." He tilts his head in the direction of Juniper's chest, which Felix realises with a jolt is now rising and falling gently. ”She'll wake up soon, and when she does she's going to have a bit of a time adjusting. That curse can give you some pretty rough nightmares."

   "I think nightmares will be the least of her problems. They -" Felix's voice catches. "They don’t even know if she’ll be sane."

   Jacob glances down again and for the first time his face isn’t the confident mask Felix has only ever seen on him.

   "I - I can't do anything about that," says Jacobs haltingly, watching his sister's slight breathing. His face tightens once more. "All I can do is make sure no one gets to her again."

   With that, Jacob moves briskly toward the door. A quick side step allows Felix to grab the older man's arm before he reaches it.

   "No," Felix objects firmly. "You need to be here when she wakes up. She'll want to see you."

   "No, I need to go find who did this to her," Jacob argues, trying to wrench his arm away and surprised when he’s unable to break Felix’s grip. Felix smirks. What three years of working with dragons has done for his muscle definition is not his least favourite post-Hogwarts accomplishment.

   "So, revenge is more important to you than your sister?"

   "Taking care of her is most important." Jacob makes another effort to jerk his arm away from Felix, but the dragonologist holds on fast.

   "She doesn't need you to take care of her. She needs you to be here with her. You're her family."

    Jacob throws his head back, growling in frustration.

   "Listen," he pleads. "Once she wakes, this place will be swarming with healers and aurors and people who are looking for me. We can hardly be a proper family if I'm locked in a cell, can we?"

   "So, you're just going to leave her. Again."

   "I have to."

   Felix shakes his head at the man in front of him, then releases his arm in disgust.

   Felix had always assumed Jacob Windsong was dead. Not that he would ever tell Juniper. His memory of Jacob, and the way Juniper described him, Felix couldn't imagine any other possible scenario. Why else would he leave the sister he so clearly cared for? A sister he doted on, wrote to constantly, treated like a best friend. At least, that was how Juniper had always described their relationship. But as he stares at the door now closed behind Jacob, Felix has to wonder just how reliable Juniper's memories of her brother really were.

-

   His thoughts are interrupted by a scream.

   Anyone who works in close proximity to dragons becomes quickly accustomed to screams. In three years, Felix has heard men, women, and children shriek in terror at the sight of a soaring Vipertooth. He can distinguish howls of agony caused by dragonfire meeting skin from the anguished wails at its destruction of homes and villages. He himself has screamed in pain as a dragon's talon rips cleanly through the skin of his throat.

   But this scream is different. It’s the sort that chills the blood. A bottomless sound of torment and hopelessness, like Felix has never heard. And instead of inspiring him to action, as screams have come to do, this excruciating noise makes him want to hide. He knows the sound is coming from the bed behind him, which means there's only one logical source.

   Two people in lime-green robes burst through the door, nearly knocking Felix over in their rush to reach the bed. Felix can only hope they’re trustworthy trainees because he's neglected to ask for the password. He cannot think at all as the healers draw their wands, speaking rapidly to each other, trying various spells and incantations. But nothing they cast alters the scream by a decibel.

   Felix closes his eyes, unable to face the bed. He cannot watch Juniper make that terrible noise; doesn't want to connect that sound with her. He stands entirely frozen as the scream drags on, fighting the urge to cover his ears or run from the room entirely, until a forceful hand grips his shoulder and shakes him.

   “What’s happened?”

   Felix recognises the voice distantly.

   "She... she started screaming," he answers, his own voice coming to him from far away.

   There's a snort of exasperation. "Yes, that’s obvious, but what did they do? How did they wake her?"

   When Felix doesn't answer, the hand shakes his shoulder again, the force rattling his teeth. It clears Felix's head just enough for him to focus on the disfigured man from before. He's staring intently at Felix with his normal eye, the strange blue one rolled back in his head. Beyond him, Felix catches sight of Professor Snape hunched over the bed next to the frantic healers.

   "Answer me! What-"

   The man breaks off abruptly, and a different sort of ringing fills Felix’s ears. It's a few seconds before he recognises the sound as silence. The screaming has stopped. Ignoring the man in front of him, Felix cranes his neck so he can see to the bed where Juniper has fallen back against the pillow. Panic reasserting itself, he tries to push forward, but the man has Felix’s shoulder in a vice.

   "You! Boy! You were supposed to be guarding her. What happened? She didn’t just wake up like this on her own."

   "Yes, she did," Felix snaps. "I mean, she just started screaming, I don't know if she was awake. Her brother said-"

   "Jacob Windsong was here?" Both the man's eyes are on Felix now, and even Snape has whipped around in alarm.

   "Yes. He came to see Juniper. He-" Felix draws a shaky breath, trying to collect his thoughts, still scattered by the unearthly scream. “He said he could help her. That he knew what curse was cast on her."

   The man shakes Felix again, this time in eagerness. "What did he say the curse was? How did he counter it?"

   Felix steps back, wrenching his shoulder away from the heavily scarred man.

   "He didn't say."

   "He didn’t say what the curse was or he didn't say how to counter it?"

    A dull throb has sprung to life in Felix's temple, and he rubs at his forehead in weary frustration.

   "Neither. He didn't....didn't say anything specific."

    The man's blue eye rolls madly in its socket. "You didn’t ask him? You let him cast a spell on Windsong and didn't bother to ask what it was?"    

   Felix can feel the embarrassment crawl across his face, but doesn't answer, just digs his heels against his eyes until he sees stars.

   The man utters a low sound of disgust and limps heavily to the bed, edging between the trainee healers to get a better look at Juniper. Snape takes the man's place in front of Felix, his expression hard and calculating.

   "Did Jacob Windsong say anything else?"

   Felix has no desire to recount his conversation with Juniper's brother, so he shakes his head.

   "Nothing important." Snape's eyes flash dangerously, and Felix hastens to add. "He said...he just said he was trying to keep Juniper safe. From R."

   "For all we know it wasn’t even the Windsong boy," calls the other man from the bedside. "Could have been any one of the outfit in disguise, and this idiot wouldn’t know the difference."

   Irritation pulses against Felix's skull.

   "As a matter of fact, I thought of that as well. But he knew things that only the real Jacob Windsong would know."

   "Did he now?" asks the man condescendingly.

   "Yes," Felix insists. "It was him. I’m sure of it."

   The man merely makes a rough sound in the back of his throat, a laugh or a hacking cough. He throws himself into the armchair now pressed against the wall to make more room around the bed. One of the trainee healers moves as well, busying himself over the bedside table, and Felix catches sight of Juniper. She's still, but breathing regularly.

   "What did you do her? Why was she screaming? Will she be alright?"

   Felix directs his question at the healers, but it’s Snape who answers him.

   "They have given her a Draught of Peace, but we do not know any more than you, Mr Rosier. It is still unclear what curse she was under or why she was unresponsive. Are you sure Jacob Windsong didn't-"

   "Rosier? Did you say Rosier?"

    The scarred man stands slowly, both eyes fixed unblinkingly on Felix.

   "You wouldn't be related to the late Evan Rosier, now, would you?" he asks, gnarled hand clenching around his wand.

   "He was my cousin," answers Felix, confused by this strange change of subject. 

    What's left of the man's nose seems to quiver in unspeakable rage, as he draws himself up to full height.

   "Well now. That's one mystery solved. No wonder he couldn’t ask any pertinent questions.” He advances on Felix with a menacing limp. "He's probably in league with R, himself. Sent here by the lot of them to keep tabs on her, were you?"

   Felix retreats against the wall to keep the man's wand from poking him in the chest. He's so taken aback, it's several seconds before he feels fear, and another before he feels anger. There’s no time to formulate a scathing retort, however, before Snape steps between them. He holds his wand at his side casually, but Felix notices the Professor's knuckles are white.

   "Moody, I can assure you Mr Rosier is not in league with R."

   Felix can see the man's lips move in response, but his ears have stopped working.

   "Moody?" he repeats, his exhausted brain trying to call up the meaning associated with the name. "Mad-Eye Moody?"

   And Felix remembers. His father white as a sheet, his mother sobbing, ministry officials delivering the news impassively. Felix isn't sure how he feels. All he can think of is what his father would say if he knew he was the same room as the man who killed Evan.

   "Yeah, that’s right, boy." Moody's mouth twists into a grotesque sneer. "Know who I am, do you? Surprised you and your Death Eater family don’t have my picture up for target practice.“

   It isn't the first time Felix has heard an accusation like this, not by a long shot. But it's been so many years, it takes a moment for the old indignation and shame to uncoil within him, like an aged dragon.

   "I am not a Death Eater," he seethes, voice shaking.

   "We'll soon find out." Moody retorts, and makes a grab for Felix's left arm. Snape steps in front of the scarred hand, and for a moment the two men glare at each other, wands half-raised.

   "Please, not in here," says a timid voice from near the bed. One of the trainee healers wrings his hands nervously as he watches the scuffling men by the door. "I'm... I'm afraid I...I must insist you take this outside. This patient is still seriously injured. She needs...to rest.” The trainee grips the bedstead to support his weight, as if this short speech has drained him of all energy.

   Moody takes a step a back, glowering at Felix and Snape. He’s breathing hard, whereas Felix isn't sure he can breathe at all.

   “Get out,” demands the auror.

    "What? No!” protests Felix. “I haven't done anything wrong, you can't-" 

    His argument is cut short by Snape, who grabs Felix’s upper arm and pulls him from the room, releasing him only when the door is shut firmly behind them. Felix stumbles, rubbing at his bruised arm. 

   "Professor, I swear, I made sure it was Jacob Windsong. I didn't just let anyone waltz in here. And he woke her up, didn't he? He helped her! I-"

   "Mr Rosier," Snape interjects. “No one is doubting your devotion to Miss Windsong. But there is nothing more you can do for her now. You've been here nearly an entire day, and if I'm not mistaken, you have an important interview in the morning. I suggest you take some time to... " He eyes Felix’s wrinkled robes and uncharacteristically disheveled hair: “Prepare yourself.”

   Felix blinks. He turns automatically to the window for some indication of the time. The streaky glass reveals darkness, though Felix isn't sure it can be trusted to show the sky’s actual appearance since it's secretly a door. He hasn't thought to check the time once since he's been here, has entirely forgotten the world outside the hospital room. None of it seems of any importance in light of Juniper's peril. But this job at the Romanian Reserve is a rare opportunity. And if he misses his interview, there’s no knowing when the position will come available again.

  As if he can read Felix’s thoughts, Snape adds, "I doubt very much whether Miss Windsong would appreciate if you missed your interview on her account." And Felix cannot argue against that. 

  "I'll come back. After the interview." It's a statement, not a request. 

  Snape arches an eyebrow but makes no other response. Felix takes a reluctant step back.

  "And if something were to happen to her before then...would you...let me know?"

   The Potions Master's slow blink is his only indication of assent.

   Felix takes another step, then pauses, shuffling his feet. His fingers come up to trace the scar on his neck unconsciously.

    "Professor." Felix meets Snape's eyes imploringly. "I'm not any of the things he said. Moody. I'm not - I'm not a Death Eater."

    Snape's face is still entirely inscrutable, but he gives the smallest of nods as he answers, "I know, Felix."

-

*A/N: This is a reference to one of the last bits of the Quidditch Season 1 storyline (which I'm aware is technically supposed to take place in MC's second year, but which in my story is moved to her third.) The title of the article is my own invention. **A/N: Reference to my Felix Rosier backstory Four Things Felix Rosier Remembered.

Read Chapter 5 | View all stories on the Masterpost

[atlasuncomfy]

Straying the Beaten Path Ch. 02

Rating: Teen+

Chapter Warnings: None

Fandom: Hetalia Axis Powers

Summary: For almost fifteen hundred years, Romano Vargas has tried time and time again to prove to the world, and himself, that his existence was not a fluke. And, time and time again, it became increasingly clear that perhaps that is exactly all he is: a product of luck. So, when he gets a call from Germany that the Allies are after Feli, he decides to-once and for all-seize his fate.

Thank you to: Kip, SnowyWolff, cooler_than_a_vintage_cassette, OhGodItsAPerson, and @devintrinidad ! I’ve been sitting on this story for about five years now, and it means a lot to have gotten such amazing feedback now that it’s finally here and on the interwebs.  Thank you so much for your kind and helpful words!

The video below, which I recommend listening to, is a Million Reasons Cover by the talented Manuel B. Joy!

"On the whole our American outlook on Sicily and Sicilians has been so influenced by the idea of “Mafia” that we’ve created two separate identities for thinking about Italy. There’s the mainland full of art, wine, and romance, then there’s the island, which is a lawless land run by large men with dark mustaches and brimmed hats pulled low over their eyes...The beautiful thing is that in some ways you’re not wrong! While Sicily shouldn’t have the reputation of an island of infamous organized crime, it also shouldn’t be lumped together with the rest of Italy. The Sicilian identity is extremely important and it’s this pride that helps preserve the islands unique and varied culture" (Sicily Lifestyle).

In the eleven hundred and forty-three years Feliciano was alive to watch the sun rise and fall, he observed the myriad of signs for when a battle was well on its way—one of which included the scrambled packing of rations, not unlike what was unfolding right before his very eyes in this moment.  It wasn’t even a genuine question when Feliciano finally asked, “So, Arthur and his friends really have taken Sicily, then?  And they’re coming here, I take it?”  For a moment, Romano paused, just briefly enough to turn and properly face Feliciano.  At his brother’s questioning brow, the latter murmured, “Ludwig told me.”

Romano scoffed, returning to his packing.  “Right, of course he did.”

There was a moment of hesitation.  Then, Feliciano asked, “Lovino, are we going to run away?”

The Southern half paused again, sighing. “Not—well, no, not exactly.”

“I don’t understand, Lovi.  Even when wars got scary, we’ve always stayed and weathered it out.  Why aren’t we doing that now?”

Romano didn’t deign that with a response; without a word of warning, he tossed the heart-marked rucksack to Feliciano and shouldered past the younger man to the bedroom. Feliciano, unsure as ever, absently followed his brother’s lead.

Now, with the sun fully pouring into the windows, Feliciano could see the way the golden light created deep, weary shadows around his brother’s face.  Lines, no doubt carved by centuries of endless stress and worry, were clearly defined on the man’s face.  It was a sharp contrast from the younger man’s youthful, boyish features; there was little room to wonder if this was yet another byproduct of their different upbringings.  When Lovino looks like this, so much older than he really is, he looks so much like Grandpa Rome.

“It’s not up for debate,” Romano said, effectively dragging Feliciano from his thoughts.  The older man had taken to raiding the dresser drawers now, yanking out any irreplaceable items and necessities his bag had to spare. Feliciano joined him, albeit only as quickly as his addled brain would allow.  It wasn’t even noon yet, and his mind was still attempting to wade through the self-preservation and internal emotional toil, so his brother would just have to forgive him for any information he didn’t absorb right now.  

Swallowing the rare, sharp retort that was certainly prepared to launch off his tongue, Feliciano closed the drawer—not too gently—and moved on to the closet.

“As I’m sure you’ve heard from that potato bastard,” Romano continued, noting his brother’s irritation (not something anyone would want to cross) and taking on a calmer approach, “Sicily’s been invaded by the Allies.  It won’t be long before they show up here, so we need to get you out of here.”

“But, what about you, Lovino?” Feliciano asked, fretting.  “Sicily is your home, yes? You look so tired, fratellone, and you’re obviously hurting so much.  Is travel really a good idea right now?  Shouldn’t we at least wait until you’re feeling a little better?”

“Enough with the questions, Feliciano,” Romano snapped, waving a dismissive hand, no doubt feeling every bit of the exhaustion and pain catching up with him.  “Come on.  If you’ve got enough strength to pester me with questions, then you’ve got the strength to tackle this trip.”

Feliciano nodded—not quite reassured but somewhat appeased by his brother’s familiar mood for now—and moved to continue prepping for the journey. “I guess so,” Feliciano murmured.  The words weren’t intended to fall on his older brother’s ears, but of course the Southern Italian caught every syllable.

“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, “guessing’s for idiots who don’t know what they’re doing.  We, on the other hand, are not idiots and have a game plan.”

Feliciano, having decided he wasn’t entirely done questioning his brother, and knowing that the man did his best thinking when utterly vexed, humoured him. “Which is?”

As expected, Romano began to pace, suddenly thrown into a whirlwind of thought. “We go to Monaco,” he reasoned.  “Technically they’re a neutral space, so the Allies have no reason to go there, but the Monacans are Axis-leaning and will be on our side if those Ally bastards do show up.  Besides, it’s so close to Frances that they wouldn’t expect us to go there to begin with.  We’ll be safe there, right under their noses, and it’ll only take us three days to get there, so we’ll have an extra to stop and rest along the way.”

Felciano hummed, carefully turning over the new information. “Okay. Okay, yeah, that sounds like a good plan.”

For a moment, a blessed moment, silence fell upon the brothers, save for the occasional rustle of clothes or dull thump of something being placed in one of their rucksacks.  Finally, Romano fastened his rucksack closed and swung it onto his back. “Feli,” he said. “Fratellino mio, do you trust me?”

“Ve?” Feliciano’s attention snapped to Romano, confused by the sudden question. “Of course, I trust you, Lovi.  You’re my big brother!  If I can’t trust you, then I can’t trust anyone.”

“Alright then.”  Romano heaved an ever-weary sigh, running a hand through his dark hair.  “I’m so sorry, Vene,” he murmured, reaching out to cup his calloused hand around his younger brother’s cheek.  “I know this is a lot, okay?  But, I need you to be strong and do everything I tell you.  The whole point of this is to keep you safe, and I swear on our Nonnuccio’s grave that’s exactly what I’m going to do.  No matter what it takes, capisti?”  Feliciano nodded.  “So, if anything happens to me, you need to be prepared to leave me behind, okay?  I’m not taking no for an answer, either.  Promise me: if it comes to it, you will walk away from me.”

It’s happening again, Feliciano realized.  Centuries-old heartache and desperation slammed into him like an oncoming freight.  He swore he’d never let this happen again.  “What? No!  There’s no way I’d—”

“Will you just shut up and do what I say for once?” Romano roared, slapping a hand over Feliciano’s mouth.  “Ti vogghiu beni, capisti?  Do you think I’m not scared?  That I’d love nothing more than to just take off and run?  Read my lips: everything I am doing, I am doing because I’m trying to protect you.  That’s it, point-blank, period, paragraph, end of story! So, please…” Feliciano marveled, briefly, at the tears beginning to streak freely down his brother’s face. It didn’t escape him how Romano, for all his rage-infused bravado, was fighting for far more than just his brother’s safety, even if the man wouldn’t admit it for himself.

“I’m doing this for your sake.  I know it’s hard, but do not throw this chance away.”

Feliciano shook himself, forcing that memory back into the shadows of his mind with the rest.  Romano was—is—different than the others.  “I—I promise, Lovi,” he whispered.  “I’ll do what you say.”

Neither man said anything for a long time, searching each other’s eyes pleadingly for comfort.  Finally, Romano stood, tugging his little brother to his feet.  “Amuninni, fratellino,” he said, smiling sadly.  “We’ve got a lot of walking to do.”

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[h-styles-babes]

What About Us? | Part I

As per a request I got a bit ago for a prompt where Harry and the OFC are exes and she ends up pregnant, I present to you a new short story. I’m planning about 10 chapters, so hopefully I can stick to that. We all know how good I am about short stories though *coughBadHabitcough*, so we shall see. 

Hope you enjoy! xx

ONE

Valentina was in the middle of joking with Nick while he prepared to take his seat for the morning show when it happened the first time. 

She was stepping in for Tina as she was away on holiday, so she had to be in the studio about half an hour before the allotted time slot for the Breakfast Show. She had felt fine when she woke up and got ready to head into the studio, and she’d felt great once she’d woken up and made her way to her awaiting Uber to take her in. She’d been all smiles as she walked in with her coffee, offering an extra one to Nick as she passed by him. He’d thanked her with a wide, sleepy smile and a quiet hum. They were only three minutes from their start time when she’d felt a sudden urge to vomit that sent her running to the restroom that was thankfully just across the hall. 

She’d come back into the room, waving it off to a concerned Nick that she’d had something dodgy the morning before. He’d let it go with some concern, but when it didn’t happen again throughout the morning, he sent her home with orders to get rest and hydrate. He’d figured it was just a quick bug when she came in the next morning looking like her normal self with no following incidents. 

Unbeknownst to him, she’d thrown up at the thought of making herself a salad for dinner the evening before, and again that morning as a wakeup call. Concerned she was sick, she’d been pumping herself with water and vitamin C. She didn’t have any classic symptoms beside the vomiting, but she just wanted to be sure. It would be just her luck to get sick in the same weeks that she was overing Tina’s holiday. 

Except when it kept happening into the following week without any other symptoms (aside from all the peeing she was doing due to how much water she was drinking constantly), she got a little suspicious. She brushed it off, though, thinking there was no way what she thought was happening was happening. They’d always used protection and she’d been on birth control for years. Maybe she really was just sick. 

It wasn’t until Tina walked into the same bathroom Valentina was vomiting the week she returned that the probable truth hit her in the face. 

“You alright, darling?” Tina asked as Val exited her stall, wiping at her mouth with a wad of toilet paper. Val smiled at her as she moved to throw out the paper and wash her hands. 

“Fine, just been a bit sick lately.”

“Nick said you were sick when I first left too,” Tina hinted. She wasn’t sure if Val was purposely hiding something from her or if the younger woman genuinely had no idea. Tina and Val had known each other for six years now, so Tina genuinely hoped that Val was comfortable enough to confide in her. She felt like a sort of older sister to the girl, and she was there whenever she needed her. Especially after her recent break up, when Val had unloaded all her bottled up emotions on Tina when they were sitting together before the show. 

“Yeah. Need to get in to see a doctor,” Val shrugged off. “Keep forgettin’ to make an appointment.”

The tone of Val’s voice made Tina surmise that she really wasn’t thinking to the obvious answer. “Are you sure you’re sick?”

Val furrowed her eyebrows at her coworker as she dried her hands. “What d’you mean?”

Tina pressed her lips together and looked at Valentina with an assessing eye. She wasn’t sure how her suggestion would be received, but she felt a sort of responsibility to the younger girl. She didn’t have any older siblings herself, and Tina doubted Val had made her symptoms apparent to her roommates and best friends, so she felt like she had to take it upon herself to be a source of reason. Not that Val was typically unreasonable, but maybe she was just a bit in denial. Any woman would be in this situation.

Tina sighed before reaching into the bag that hung at her shoulder to retrieve the parcel she’d picked up before work, per Nick’s request. She passed the brown paper bag to Val with a hesitant hand. Val took it and peeked inside, clenching her jaw at the sight that confronted her. 

“Nick’s been more observant than you think. Asked me to get that for you before I came into work.”

“I—” Val started, already shaking her head. This wasn’t possible. She’d always been so careful because she never wanted this to happen when they weren’t ready. They were only barely twenty-three and nowhere near ready to be parents. They’d been so cautious. 

“Please. For all of us. Nick’s been worried sick, and he’s makin’ me worry.” “Nick hasn’t said anything to him, right?” Val asked, suddenly nearly panicking. 

“No, no,” Tina rushed to assure. “Didn’t wanna worry him if it was nothing. Also didn’t wanna tell him before you did.”

Val sucked in a deep breath. “Alright. I’m gonna go pee on these.”

“Don’t fall in.”

Val stuck her tongue out at her friend before disappearing back into the stall she first emerged from. 

Peeing on a couple of sticks was a surprisingly easy way to find out the answer to something that could drastically change the rest of your life. It seemed too simple, like it should be a more complicated process. Like something that could be this heavy should be constructed of more than a few grams of plastic and dye. Surely a doctor was necessary for this sort of thing? But medical advancements had long since made a blood test pretty much obsolete. It was mind boggling to Val. 

Tina handed Valentina a couple of paper towels to set her tests on as she rested them on the counter. Val washed her hands once again and took a deep breath. Three minutes. That was all it would take to find out her fate. Three minutes to change her life forever.

(Really, the event that would have actually changed her fate lasted much longer than three minutes. If she could remember correctly from the last time her and her ex were together, they’d been in bed for over half an hour, not including the time they’d messed around before they’d actually gotten to the act. It was definitely a good time, despite what happened a few hours later, but it was still such a short time that would affect her for years.)

Tina wrapped an arm around Valentina’s shoulders in support. She could feel the younger woman shaking in her nerves, her fingers fiddling together, a habit she’d picked up from her ex over the years. The way she shifted to plucking at her bottom lip with a couple of her fingers was another habit she’d gleaned off of him. Tina was endeared by it, having a soft spot in her heart for both of them. The lad hadn’t been in the studio since their break up, being respectful of Val’s space, but he was scheduled to come in for the release of a new song in a couple weeks, and Tina had no idea how that would go.

They stood there together for an indiscernible amount of time. They both knew the start time of the Breakfast Show was drawing upon them, so they didn’t have much time to dawdle. Tine glanced at the watch on her wrist and noted that it’d been much longer than three minutes. And there were only five minutes to the start of the show. 

“Now or never, Val,” she urged gently, giving a little nudge. 

Val let out a breath she’d been holding and nodded. She leaned forward, a hand supporting her on the counter to support her in case of any mishaps. It took her a moment to focus her eyes to the little marks, but it only took that moment for her world to completely shift on her axis. 

Because all three tests had two little pink lines shown back at her.

Because she hadn’t spoken to the father of her unborn child since January. Because they’d been broken up since the day she was pretty sure the little surprise currently growing inside her was conceived. 

Because her ex was Harry Styles, and nothing was simple when it came to him.

The only good thing about this day was that it was Friday, which was the end of her work week. She’d had to wait to tell Nick that the tests had come back positive until they had a break, which had nearly made him tear his hair out and yell at her live on the air, which would not have been good. Luckily, they’d been able to contain him and he’d sat quietly until they’d began playing a few songs. He’d made a weird yodeling sound when she’d confirmed that she was indeed pregnant with Harry Styles’ child. She’d like to say she’d never heard him make that sound before, but that would be a lie. Nick made that sound often, for some reason. 

He’d insisted that Val come back with him to his place after work so they could have tea and talk and maybe settle in for a kip if they were feeling up to it. Val didn’t have any other plans for the day, so she agreed. She liked spending time with Nick outside of the studio. They’d known each other since 2011, and he was a really great friend. He’d vouched for her when the studio had been considering whether or not to extend a job to her when her internship was over and she’d graduated from uni. She’d been there for her throughout her relationship with Harry and all the emotional ups and downs she’d gone through because of his very public career. Not that her own was any less public, but the country of England was nothing compared to the entire world. 

“Whatcha in the mood for, babe?” Nick asked as he opened his cupboard. “Got all sorts in here.”

“Just an English Breakfast, please. D—”

“Dash of cream, one sugar, I know, Val,” he teased her. “Been makin’ yeh tea for nearly six years now. Think I remember by now.”

“Sorry,” Val sighed, sinking into one of his plush sofas. “I’m a bit out of it. Been a bit of a day.”

Nick scoffed. “Yeh don’t say?” He turned and leaned against the counter to face her. “When are yeh gonna tell him?”

Val blew out a raspberry and kicked off her shoes. “Don’t know. Haven’t spoken to him since we split. The girls handled gettin’ my stuff from his place and takin’ him his stuff from ours.” Nick tossed her an apple from the basket on his counter, which she caught effortlessly. “I’m still kinda trying to take it in.”

“Let him do it with yeh,” Nick urged, his tone a bit pleading. While he was good friends with both parties, he had no part in taking sides when they split. He’d advocate for both of them to the other when he needed to, and now it was his turn to advocate for an absent Harry. This was his responsibility, too, and Nick knew Harry would want to take an active role in this. Harry had always wanted to be a father, and while this was probably a lot sooner than he’d figured, it didn’t change the fact that he’d be happy eventually. “Yeh know he’s gonna react alright. It’s Harry.”

Val let her head fall back against the couch with a groan. “I know! He’s gonna be all kind and dotin’ about it! I don’t need that right now.” Val trailed off into a rant in Spanish, and Nick just let her get it out as he steeped their teas. He didn’t understand a lick obviously, but he’d learned long ago to just let Valentina get her rant out, because it was usually just what she’d said in English in new ways, and if it was something different, she’d repeat it in English anyway. It was something he’d had to learn fast about Val; she was not at all shy by her background and had no problem giving you what for in Spanish just for it to sound more angry. 

“Yeh done?” Nick asked as he brought her tea to her and took a seat next to her. She was a bit teary and she was sniffling a bit, but she looked like she was alright, overall. Nick figured all the emotions were just catching up with her now. She flopped her head over to look at him. “Yeah. It wasn’t comin’ out fast enough in English.”

“Accent’s hard to get around,” Nick agreed with a nod. “He’ll be on the show in a week and a half’s time.”

Val shook her head. “Gotta do it before then. Not gonna drop it to him when he gets there. ‘Hey, Harry! Welcome back to the studio! Hope your new single smashes it! Oh, by the way, I’m pregnant with your baby!’ I don’t see that goin’ over well.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Didn’t mean to tell him when he came on, babe. Meant yeh need to do it before then, so nothing’s awkward while we’re all there. Yeh know I can’t keep me fuckin’ mouth shut.”

Val snorted a watery laugh at him. “Yeah, I definitely know that. Terrible secret keeper, Grimshaw.”

“So, yeh just gotta tell him before I let it slip by accident.”

She nodded and finally leaned forward to grab her own mug. “Yeah, I will. Maybe I’ll ask him over for dinner or summat.”

“Sound. Are those farm animals on your socks? 

“Yes. They’re fuzzy and keep my feet warm. You know my feet always get really cold.”

“True. Yeh’re like a little ice lolly. Now, can we watch endless America’s Next Top Model?”

“I’d like nothing better.”

They only made it through an episode and a half on Netflix before they fell asleep against each other on the couch. They’d wrapped a blanket around them at some point, and now they were snuggled into it, Val’s head resting on Nick’s shoulder, one of his arms around her waist to keep her close. Val has been truly exhausted lately, and now that she knows why, she’s less inclined to make herself push through the feeling and continue on with her day. Sleep and rest is good for the baby, right?

This is the sight Harry walks in on when he arrives at Nick’s flat. Nick had asked him the day before if he had any plans for the afternoon. Harry didn’t but he hadn’t given Nick an absolute answer because sometimes things with his record label would come up that he couldn’t get out of, and he hadn’t wanted to make plans with his friend just to have to cancel them. But, when the late morning came and went with no calls from anyone official, he’d decided to head over. He knew Nick was off work, and he doubted the older man had anything else going on since he’d asked Harry over, so he saw no problem with just arriving unannounced. It’s not like he’d never done it before. 

He hadn’t expected his ex-girlfriend to be there, though, and he paused in the entrance to the living room when he saw them curled together on the couch, an episode of America’s Next Top Model playing on the large TV. He hadn’t seen her in nearly three months, and now there she was, in his best mate’s home, sleeping peacefully on his sofa. 

She hadn’t changed much in the time since they’d last seen each other. Her hair was the same chocolatey brown color, the ends dyed to a more honey tone that she’d been keeping up for the last year or so. She’d decided to dye it after she’d let it grow out from when she’d cut it up to her shoulders nearly two years prior. It now came nearly to her waist, and Harry had always loved wrapping his fingers up in it when they were intimate or if they were simply lounging around the house. It had always been so soft and shiny and thick, and she’d always made sure it smelled good.

Her skin was the same golden tone it had always been, despite the lack of sun in England. The tone was solely due to her Hispanic background and not the weather conditions. Her mum had moved to England from Mexico back in the eighties to go to school, and she’d met Val’s dad while at uni. So, Val was biracial, but everything about her was very clearly Hispanic. Her mum’s genes were strong, evidently. 

The only thing that looked different about her was the dark circles under her eyes, nearly covered by her long lashes, but still very prominent. Harry hadn’t seen her look that exhausted since she was in uni, interning at BBC, and working a part-time job all at once her second year. Harry was able to convince her to quit her job and just focus on school and the internship her final year, which seemed to take a lot of stress off of her. It had been a hard battle, but he knew it was one that she’d needed to lose so she wouldn’t wear herself to the ground. Harry didn’t know the minimum hours of sleep someone had to have in order to keep going, but he was pretty sure Val was far below it in those days.  

Unsure of how to proceed, he trailed into the kitchen to make himself a cuppa. He wasn’t sure how long the pair had been asleep, but he was hoping their kip was coming to an end, so that he could say honestly that he’d only been there a few minutes when they woke up and inevitably asked. 

Like someone up above had answered Harry’s prayers, Grimmy roused on the couch, making those weird dad noises he made as he stretched, careful to avoid jamming into Valentina with his long limbs. His eyes were still squeezed shut, but he heard the telltale sound of water beginning to boil in his kettle, which he knew for a fact he’d turned off before he’d come over to watch his show with Val. 

Nick peeked his eyes open and saw Harry standing in his kitchen, helping himself to a cuppa, which was nothing out of the ordinary between them. He’d lost track of the amount of time they’d each dropped by the other’s home unannounced and uninvited. It was comfortable for them. And it was only then that Nick remembered that he’d invited Harry over text yesterday, and when he’d not gotten a certain answer, he’d forgotten about it, obviously, since he’d brought Val over after work. (Honestly, he would have invited Val over anyway, given the situation, and told Harry he could fuck off for the afternoon if he’d accepted right away, but that was beside the point.)

“Young Harold, in the flesh. Felt like I haven’t seen yeh in a hot minute, mate,” Grimmy greeted the younger lad. Harry looked over his shoulder and grinned at his friend, giving a soft wave. He was in a large knit brown jumper that was a couple sizes too big, as the sleeves fell to his fingers, creating cosy little sweater paws. Only Harry could pull off both cosily adorable and devastatingly handsome, Nick thought.

“Hi,” Harry drew out softly, not wanting to wake Val unnecessarily. The girl definitely looked like she needed and deserved this nap. Nick pushed himself off the couch and covered Valentina appropriately with the blanket before joining Harry in the kitchen.

“Sorry, didn’t realise yeh were gonna have Val over,” Harry apologised as Nick saddled up beside him. “Wouldn’t’ve come over if I knew she was here.”

“It’s alright,” Nick shrugged, placing his own used mug in the sink. “Was a spur of the moment thing as we were gettin’ off work. Girl needed to wind down from the day.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed deeply, looking toward his friend in concern. “She alright? Work’s good, yeah? Parents are alright?” He looked back over at Val, who’d moved to take up the entirety of the couch, tucking her chin into the blanket like she’d always done. It’d only been two months since they split, but Harry was certain there were things about Val he’d neer forget. She’d been his whole world for so long. “She looks completely spent.”

“Everythin’s fine,” Nick assured, though he wasn’t really sure that that was the truth. She did just get life-changing news that day. “Glad yeh’re here, actually. Reckon she’d like to talk to yeh.” Nick figured now was as good a time as any for them to have a little chat about their impending parenthood. Valentina had been stressing about it, but Nick thought this was the perfect solution. She’d have no time to psych herself out about it, and Nick could be there as a buffer if that’s what they needed. Plus, he’d always reckoned he’d be there when Val told Harry she was pregnant with their first child; he’d just assumed it would be under very different circumstances. Life didn’t work out perfectly for anyone, though. 

Harry shook his head. “Don’t think so,” he denied, shutting off the kettle just as it started whistling. “Told me not to contact her last time I was walkin’ out of her flat.”

“It’s been two months,” Nick told him, pouring his cuppa for him. “Yeh’ve both had time to clear your heads and calm down. Besides, yeh’re comin’ on the show soon. Better sort yourselves out before then.” He really just needed Harry to stick around. Nick could tell by the look on his face that he was seriously debating whether or not to leave now, before Val had the chance of waking up and seeing that he was here. He had to do what he could to stop that. The two ex-lovebirds needed to talk. (And while Nick was shaky on whether or not that was a fitting title for the two, he was sticking to it until he was proved right. Which he would be, one day, he just knew it.)

Harry sighed and gave a single shoulder shrug. “Suppose,” he agreed. He took the offered cuppa from Grimmy. “Reckon she’ll be up soon.”

“She’s already up,” Val called, voice groggy with sleep. “You two chatty biddies talk too fuckin’ loud.” 

She sat up on the couch, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Her stomach churned a bit at the sight of Harry standing in Nick’s kitchen, looking all soft and cuddly and so much like how he used to look when they were sat in their homes for a night in, lounging on the couch and watching entirely too much Netflix. She wanted to cry at the memories that came flooding back, but she willed the tears away and instead focused on the nausea that was currently consuming her. She wasn’t sure if it was another bout of morning sickness from the pregnancy, or if it was the sight of her ex, but it definitely didn’t listen like the tears did. She bolted from the couch to the closest restroom, not even having the time to close the door behind her. She barely made it to the floor in front of the bowl before she started spewing. She hardly had anything in her stomach, too, and it still insisted on coming back out. 

Val heard footsteps pattering after her, rushing into the restroom behind her. She prayed it was Grimmy as she wiped at her mouth with some toilet paper, but she knew by the sensation that flowed through her when a kind hand rubbed at her back that it was Harry. She’d always felt like that when he’d touched her. Since the first time they’d shook hands all those years ago, his touch had evoked this calming, warm, tingly sensation that she couldn’t explain. She thought it was just simply Harry, but he’d told her one time that he’d felt it with her too, and she realised it was a them thing. It was a hard pill to swallow now as she was kneeled over the toilet, spewing back up her tea and snack from earlier, wishing that Harry wasn’t the one comforting her. 

“Jesus, Val. Yeh alright?” he asked, that familiar tone of concern bathing his words. He continued his soothing rubs as he looked up to Grimmy, who stood in the doorway, looking sympathetic. “Thought yeh said she was okay? This doesn’t look like she’d bloody okay.”

“I’m fine, Harry,” Val assured, spitting into the toilet to rid her mouth of the last bits of vomit. She needed to brush her teeth. Again. “I’m used to it, now.” She realised too late that she probably shouldn’t have said it, but it was too late, now. The words couldn’t be taken back. 

Fuck it, she thought. He’d have to know, eventually, right?

“Used to it? Are yeh sick? Why didn’t yeh tell me? Nick?” Harry was beginning to look and sound less concerned and more upset. He wasn’t used to being out of the loop when it came to Valentina, and he wasn’t taking this new role very well. She’d been his main priority for years, and now she wasn’t, and it wasn’t something he’d acclimated to very well. Break ups sucked. 

“Val?” Nick asked, not wanting to decide her course of action for her. He figured this was the best time to fill Harry in, since he was here and curious, but he didn’t want to assume anything. This was entirely up to her.

Val looked to her friend and they had a silent conversation with just facial expressions before Val nodded with a sigh. Nick flashed her a reassuring smile, before backing out of the doorway. He closed the door behind them, giving them all the privacy they could get at the moment, figuring that was the least he could do, aside from offer tea and biscuits when they were done. Jesus, he sounded like his mother. 

“What’s goin’ on?” Harry asked, once he’d determined that Nick had walked far enough away. “Are yeh sick?”

Val chuckled without humour. “I wish.”

Harry was severely confused. “Valentina.” His tone was urgent, and he knew the use of her full name would get her to get to the point. He knew she had some sort of soft spot for it when it came to him, and he was willing to exploit that in this situation. 

She groaned and shook his hand off of her so she could sit back against the edge of the tub. She was able to look at Harry this way, who looked an appropriate mixture of confused, agitated and worried. She supposed you couldn’t just instantly stop caring for a person after years of a relationship, and even more of friendship. 

Val took a deep breath before saying with as much confidence as she could muster, “I’m pregnant.”