#she has a limp from her right back leg healing crooked when she fell out of sky oak as an apprentice

[strawberryfrostedkitties]

[triptuckers]

Fix her - Kaz Brekker

Request: nope Pairing:  kaz brekker x reader Summary:  kaz sent you out to gather information, and you always return on time with the intel he needs. well, maybe not always. Warnings: angst, language, mentions of BLOOD, BRUISES, INJURIES, typical soc stuff, slight six of crows and crooked kingdom spoilers Word count:  2.2K A/N: hello my darlings it is I and I have read almost every book leigh bardugo has written in the past month. I am now hopelessly in love with jesper, kaz and nikolai. I'll be updating my character list soon! I still have a few wips but I don’t have any motivation / inspiration for those. so have my first kaz brekker x reader instead! enjoy reading :)

It was a rather easy job, really. Kaz had received word that the Dime Lions had an important meeting coming up. Because he always wanted to know what exactly was going on in the Barrel and with its gangs, he wanted someone to listen in on said meeting.

Normally, he would send Inej. She was the obvious choice when it came to gathering information. But she was still recovering from a rather nasty cut in her side, and so you had offered to go.

Inej insisted she could go. But all it took was you raising your eyebrows when she moved to sit up, only to wince and flop back down onto the bed. Though he didn’t quite like it, Kaz had assigned you to the job. 

No one said it out loud, but everyone knew there was something between you and Kaz. Neither of you had spoken about it. There were just a lot of lingering glances, smiles from you and what you think was almost a smile from Kaz, and you even had stolen his coat once when you had lost your own. He didn’t seem to mind though.

When you had left that evening to listen to the Dime Lions meeting from the shadows, Kaz had sent you a look that you knew all too well. He reserved it only for you. It was him telling you to be safe. You’d respond with a wink that basically meant always am.

The rest of the crows started a card game to pass the time as they waited for you to come back. They didn’t worry, you were always careful and are considered one of the most dangerous criminals in Ketterdam. They knew whatever happened, you could handle yourself.

But after Jesper had lost four rounds of card games, the tension began to rise between them. Most meetings typically didn’t last this long. Still, no one said anything as they started their fifth game. You would show up eventually, probably bringing valuable insight with you.

After two more games, there was still no sign of you. Nina was the first one to speak up.

‘She should have been back by now.’ she says, absently looking out the window into the dark street. 

‘Have a little faith, Zenik.’ says Kaz, though on the inside he was filled with worry. He shook it off and focused on the game again.

More than once he’d scolded himself for allowing you to get this close to him. For putting so much trust in you, especially after what happened the last time he’d really trusted someone. But he couldn’t help it. It was like he was drawn to you like Jespers trigger finger was to his revolvers. He couldn’t help it.

Still, he knew your skills. He knew you were smart, and a fighter. Whatever was going on with you out there, he had no doubt you’d show up at the door in a few moments, cheerfully announcing what good intel you’d gathered and wondering how many card games you’d missed.

But you still didn’t show. And one by one, they all lost their interest in the card game. They fell silent and looked out the window or fiddled with their empty glasses. The tension in the room grew. Until Kaz suddenly stood.

‘Finish the game.’ he says. ‘I’ll go and look for her.’

‘I’ll come with you.’ says Jesper, getting up as well.

‘No.’ says Kaz, earning a frown from Jesper. ‘Just me.’ he says. And with that, he pulled on his coat, grabbed his cane and was out the door.

‘Right.’ says Jesper, sitting back down. ‘Anyone fancy another game? I have a feeling I’m gonna win this one.’

They played three more games. They were tired, and it was well past midnight. Still, none of them went upstairs to their rooms. Too anxious to play any more cards or to even have a normal conversation, they settled for silence and more drinks. 

Jesper was fiddling with his rings and bouncing his leg. Nina had her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands. Matthias was trying to not look at Nina. And Wylan was attempting to build a house out of the cards. 

Finally, they heard the sound of the door opening. All of their heads shot up and turned to look who it was. 

Kaz stumbles awkwardly through the door, carrying you in his arms. Nina gasps softly and Jesper murmurs ‘Saints’ as their eyes land on your body. 

It’s bruised and bloody, and your eyes are shut. Was Kaz too late?

‘Clear the table!’ says Kaz loudly, limping toward it with you in his arms. 

Instantly, Matthias and Jesper seize the glasses and cards off the table as Wylan pulls some of the chairs back to make room. Kaz lays your beaten up body on the table and turns to Nina.

‘Help her.’ says Kaz.

But Nina is looking at you body, bruised and bloodied, nothing like the cheerful girl that buys her waffles and laughs as she teases Matthias. It’s almost impossible to find a spot on your body that doesn’t have a wound on it. There’s slashes from knives everywhere, bruising around your neck and the side of your face, and to top it off, blood is slowly leaking out of a bullet wound in your leg.

An expression of horror is written across Nina’s face, her hands pressed against her mouth. 

‘Nina.’ Kaz presses on. ‘I said help her.’

‘Kaz, I don’t think-’ stammers Nina. ‘Come on, fix her!’ says Kaz loudly, surprised of how much anxiety can be heard in his voice. Fix her, he thinks, because I need her to fix me.

‘I can try but-’ ‘Do it.’ says Kaz and then he turns away, he can’t bear to look at you any longer. Memories of Jordie flood over him, mingled with memories of you. Your laugh, how he fights his own smile every time you wink at him or send a flirty comment his way, the way you smell. How you look at him when he catches your eyes. 

Kaz shuts his eyes, attempting to drown the memories out. Taking deep breaths, he tries to focus on the voices behind him.

‘Jesper get the bullet out of her leg.’ says Nina. 

‘Just pull it out?’ questions Jesper.

‘Saints, you’re Grisha, Jesper, pull the fucking bullet out!’ says Nina in a loud voice laced with fear.

After a while of listening to Nina’s murmuring and instructions to others, Kaz finally turns back around to look at you. A wave of nausea hits him unexpectedly and he swallows hard. 

Nina had treated most of the wounds, with Jesper’s help. But your entire body is still covered in bruises, and now bandages as well. Nina’s cleaned the dried blood off of your face, but your arms and legs are still covered with it. 

They’re all nervously looking at Kaz.

‘I don’t know if she’s going to-’

‘Don’t.’ says Kaz, interrupting her. He needed to think straight. He needed someone to help him focus. Normally, you’d be the one to do so. But you’re in no condition to softly talk to him to reassure him everything is going to be alright. He needed to be his own soothing voice tonight.

‘Matthias.’ he says. ‘Bring her up to my room. Nina, go with him, see if there’s anything else you can do for her. Jesper, get Inej up to speed. Wylan, clean this mess up before someone notices.’

Without waiting for their reactions, Kaz walks up the stairs to his floor. Several moments later, followed by Matthias, who is carrying you, and Nina and Jesper. Jesper disappears into Inej’ room, while Matthias and Nina continue to walk the stairs to get to Kaz’ floor. 

When they arrive, Matthias carefully places you on Kaz’ bed as he was instructed. For a while, the three of them look at you. Until Matthias and Nina go to their rooms as well, leaving Kaz alone with you.

None of them had questioned why he insisted Matthias brought you to his room and not your own. Of course, they were dying to find out exactly what was going on between you and Kaz, but they all knew tonight was not the night to push him.

As he looks at you, Kaz feels the strong urge to touch you. Lay his hand on your cheek, to see if it’s still warm. But he can’t. Instead, he merely pulls out a chair and sits down next to the bed. He lets his eyes travel over your body, wondering how much pain you’re in, and who the hell was responsible for it. 

He needed you to wake up. He needed you to tell him who did this so he could send his biggest most muscular members of the Dregs to them. Kaz wanted them to hurt the way they had hurt you. 

His mind is running at an alarming speed. But eventually, even Kaz can’t fight his tired body anymore, and he falls asleep in an uncomfortable position in his chair.

From that night on, he instructed that you shouldn’t be left alone. He doesn’t want you to wake up and realise you’re on your own. The next day, it’s business as usual. The members of the Dregs are coming and going like they always do. The familiar flow of people helps to take everyone’s mind off things, but as soon as they’re by your side, they remember. 

Nina had tried her best to heal you, but it still took you almost a week to wake up.

When you wake up, your first thought is that your entire body feels way heavier than it’s supposed to. You try to open your eyes but it’s like your eyelids are made of lead. After a couple more tries, you finally open them.

You take in the room, and realise it’s not your own. Kaz. 

Why would you be in Kaz’ room? Why aren’t you in your own room? And why does your body feel so damn heavy?

And then all of the memories flood back. Like a tsunami, they catch your breath in your throat, making it hard to breathe. You try to inhale deeply, but it’s like your throat is sealed shut. You start to panic when you notice you can’t breathe. 

Then a pair of hands land on your shoulders and gently push you back onto the bed. Whoever it is, is talking softly to you. You close your eyes and try to steady your breathing. 

Then the voice yells out, but from much farther away, like they’re standing in the doorway, and not next to the bed.

‘Kaz! Nina! Get up here!’

It’s Jesper. 

You try to ask him what’s going on, but it’s still hard to breath normally. You try to focus on something else. Jesper’s voice trying to calm you down, his eyes looking into yours, but nothing’s helping. 

Then you hear a sound you know all too well. A familiar stumbling, of someone walking up the stairs with a cane. 

Seconds later, Kaz rushes into the room and roughly shoves Jesper away, taking his place next to the bed.

‘Who did this to you?’ he says. 

His voice is that familiar rasp, and normally you love it. But now it just makes your head hurt. You shut your eyes and softly shake your head, trying to drown the sound out. 

‘Y/N, who did this to you?’ says Kaz, more firmly this time.

‘Kaz.’ says Nina’s voice. ‘Let her rest. You can talk later.’ Nina’s voice is softer, more gentle than Kaz’. You try to focus on it as you open your eyes again.

Kaz is close. He looks down at you and you’re surprised by the look in his eyes. Was that a hint of worry you detected? You open your mouth to say something, but Kaz is faster.

‘Y/N, tell me who did this to you.’ says Kaz.

‘Couldn’t see their faces.’ you manage to say in a hoarse voice. Your throat feels dry and you start to cough. Immediately, Nina moves to get you a glass of water and helps you to drink it. 

‘Did you notice the way they moved? How they walked? Were they Dime Lions? Could you see any tattoos? What about scars? Clothing? Voices?’

Kaz keeps on firing questions at you, but you can’t focus on his words. Your head feels heavy and you feel your eyelids slowly closing again. 

‘Kaz.’ you say softly. ‘Tomorrow.’ 

You expect him to press on, to find out who did this to you. But instead, he looks at you and holds your gaze. He doesn’t say anything, he merely nods at you. You know what it means. Despite his harsh voice and the million questions, he’s glad you’re safe. And the ones who did this to you will pay for it. He’ll make sure of it.

You offer a weak smile before closing your eyes, already drifting off. You hear two pairs of footsteps leave the room, and assume Nina stayed behind to check on you.

The chair next to you gets moved back and you hear how someone sits down in it. When you feel something brush against your fingers, you assume it’s Nina checking your pulse.

But then you feel a gloved thumb on the back of your hand. It slowly rubs over your skin. To most people it wouldn’t mean anything. But to you, it meant the world. A tiny smile reaches the corners of your mouth, as you fall asleep. 

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Jo

[sixsobbles]

Disabled cats in Warriors

This is a list of all disabled cats in Warrior cats (canon and heavily implied) (I will add more when they are written in the books). This list also includes descriptions from Vicky’s Facebook and Su Susann's Missing Kits.

This list is complete for now!

- Halftail (Half of his tail was bitten off by a badger)

- One-eye (TPB) (Was born partially blind in right eye, later it got torn out when she was an apprentice due to a badger)

- Deadfoot (Born with a limp paw, an accident later on made it twisted)

- Crookedstar (Hit his jaw on a rock, it healed wrong and became permanently crooked)

- Brokenstar (Was born with a kinked tail, later blinded by Yellowfang)

- Cinderpelt (Hind leg twisted when it was hit by a car)

- Snowkit (TPB) (Born deaf) 

- Featherkit (TPB)(TC) (Born deaf) 

- Brightheart (Right side of face mauled by dogs, ear is unable to be used, eye torn out)

- Longtail (Blinded by a rabbit)

- Briarlight (Paralyzed when a tree branch fell on her spine)

- Wildfur (Paralyzed when a burrow collapsed on his spine)

- Gray Wing (DoTC) (He is asthmatic)

- Jagged Peak (Broke his leg when he fell from a tree, healed wrong, permanently limp)

- Frost (Back right leg permanently limp due to fire burns)

- One eye (DoTC) (Left eye is missing from unknown causes)

- Lilywhisker (Tunnel collapsed on one of her hind legs rendering it useless)

- Petalfall (Was born with no teeth and had epilepsy) 

- Jayfeather (Born blind)

- Berrynose (Tail was made a stump after it got caught in a fox trap)

- Finleap (Half his tail missing when a tree branch crushed it)

- Stonestream (Front right leg got caught in fishing net, leg was lost from an infection)

- Graypool (Suffered from a form of alzheimers towards the end of her life)

- Moth Flight (She has ADHD)

- Frecklewish (TC) (Blinded by a snake)

- Lilyheart (It is implied that she has survivor guilt, which is a form of PTSD)

- Whitewater (She was born with one blind eye and the other slowly went dull after she became a warrior)

- Fallowfern (After she became a warrior she slowly went deaf)

- Goosefeather (He suffered from a form dementia towards the end of his life)

- Bluestar (She suffered from a form of dementia towards the end of her life)

- Snowbird (When on patrol she slipped and broke her paw, it became permanently limp)

- Boots (He only has one eye, it is unknown what happened to the other one)

- Fierce (He was born with one leg shorter than the others)

- Rock (Healer) (He is blind, it is unknown if he was born blind or became blind)

- Turtle Tail (She has a stumpy tail, it is unknown if she was born with it or if it got injured)

- Stumpytail (He has a stumpy tail, it is unknown if he was born with it or if it got injured)

- Strikestone (He is deaf in one ear)

- Barkface (He was born with a stub tail)

- Rainswept Flower (She shows signs of PTSD after a traumatic experience)

- Palebird (She has post-natal depression) 

- Fern Leaf (She has a short tail, it is unknown if she was born with it or if it got injured)

- Shadowsight (He is epileptic)

- Oddfoot (He was born with one paw twisted inwards)

- Nightstar (He is asthmatic)

- Speckletail (She is implied to suffer from depression)

- Shrewtooth (He is implied to have PTSD after two traumatic experiences)

- Leopardstar (She is diabetic)

- Runningnose (He has a terminal illness)

- Petalnose (She is implied to have PTSD after two traumatic experiences)

- Millie (She is nearly deaf)

- Flywhisker (She is implied to have ADHD and/or Autism)

- Ravenpaw (He is implied to have PTSD and anxiety from a traumatic experience) 

- Alderheart (He is implied to have anxiety)

- Cedarpelt (He has a stumpy tail, it is unknown if he was born with it or if it got injured)

- Marshcloud (He has a stumpy tail, it is unknown if he was born with it or if it got injured)

- Shorty (He has a stumpy tail, it is unknown if he was born with it or if it got injured)

- Jay (He has no teeth)

- Percy (Left eye is missing from unknown causes)

- Frog (He has an injured spine)

- Willow Tail (She was blinded during a scuffle)

- Rock Beneath Still Water (He has a stumpy tail caused by Sharptooth)

- Pounce (He has a lazy eye)

- Fury (GV) (Left eye is missing from unknown causes) 

- Tiny Branch (One of his hind legs became twisted when he got it stuck)

- Misty Water (She is almost blind)

- Domino (He has a crooked jaw after he fell out of a barn loft)

- Dominos unnamed kin (They have a crooked jaw from an unknown cause)

- Crystal (She is almost blind)

- Rain (AVoS) (Left eye was torn out by Darktail)

- Hoot/Snake (He has an underbite)

- Jasper (He is missing a toe, it is unknown if he was born without it or if it got injured)

- Jingo (The tip of her tail is missing, it is unknown if she was born without it or if it got injured)

- Kinktail (She has a crushed tail after it got run over by a monster when she was a kit)

- Perchpaw (MV) (He has shorter front legs)

- Pink Eyes (He has poor eyesight)

- Pouncetail (He has a shorter tail, it is unknown if he was born with it or if it got injured)

- Rabbittail (He has was born with a stumpy white tail like a rabbit's)

- Rain That Rattles On Stones (He is missing an eye from unknown causes)

- Running Horse (He is implied to have osteoarthritis)

- Sheeptail (He was born with a stumpy black tail)

- Splash When Fish Leaps (She has a stumpy tail, it is unknown if she was born with it or if it got injured)

- Stonepelt (One of his front legs is unusable after an injury didn’t heal properly) 

- Stonewing (His tail became permanently kinked after a tree branch fell on it)

- Brightflower (She is implied to suffer from depression)

- Dovestar (RC) (Was born with one milkly, blind eye)

[ambarto]

I like to imagine that the Noldor in exile and the Feanorians in particular all had scars or various wounds they got through their hardships, so I’m compiling a post on my headcanons concerning how badly hurt they ended up. All Feanorians, some bonus Nolofinweans/Arafinweans. No particularly graphic descriptions of how they got the wounds, but still I guess there could be a bit of disturbing content ahead.

Maedhros - honestly, after what Melkor did to him, he’s scars all over. The tips of his ears were cut, and he has a large, ugly scar on his face, starting at his nose, barely missing the eye, and going down his cheek to the corner of his mouth, as well as various smaller ones. He lost a few teeth, and got metal ones. His body is also covered in scars, but almost no one ever sees him undressed. He used a glamour once to keep the scars on his face hidden, but as time went on he stopped caring about appearances. His right shoulder needed a long time to regain proper mobility, and it still pops out of the socket if he’s not careful.

Maglor - right after getting to Beleriand, he lost the tip of his left ear in battle. Other than that, he managed to stay overall whole until he and Maedhros stole the Silmarils. His burns never healed entirely, taking away the elasticity of his skin and damaging the nerves. He got a scar on his forehead during his wandering, from one time he fell and didn’t treat the wound properly.

Celegorm - he doesn’t have any mark in visible places, but he has a scar on his shoulder from being hit by an arrow once, and bite marks on his arms from a wolf hunt that went wrong.

Caranthir - he lost his right eye during an Orc ambush, and started wearing an eyepatch after that. His brothers told him he could have just glamoured his face to hide the wound, but he never cared all that much about his appearance. While still a good warrior, out of his brothers he was the worst when it came to fighting, and collected a good amount of small marks over the years.

Curufin - he received a wound to his leg during the Dagor Bralloch that got infected and left him with a limp. He always had burns on his hands due to his work as a smith, but he got a particularly bad one on his right hand after getting molten metal on it as an accident.

Amrod - he did not die in Losgar, but his clothes did take fire and by the time he jumped into the sea he had already burnt most of his left arm and part of his chest and back. The sea water also did not help his healing, the salt irritated the already tender skin, and he was left with discolored patches.

Amras - he broke his nose and it set wrong, leaving it crooked and giving his voice a certain nasal tone. People joked at least that way they could tell him apart from his twin that way.

Celebrimbor - he has never been a fighter, and whenever he ended up in battle he always hurt himself in some way. In the Dagor-nuin-Giliath he was pierced through in one shoulder, which left an ugly scar but no other permanent damage. In the Dagor Bragollach his back was burnt when the fire made his armor overheat. In the Nirnaeth Arnoediad he got a long, deep, jagged scar across his forearm. During the destruction of Beleriand he lost a finger of his left hand. Every single time he entered a battlefield everyone who cared about him was sure to be given at least one heart attack, and many found it rather surprising how he hadn’t died yet by the end of the First Age.

Turgon - got wounded during the Battle of Lammoth, and his left shoulder never fully healed, remaining with limited mobility.

Angrod - he lost a few fingers while crossing the Helcaraxe due to frostbite. He could still do most things with his right hand, as he only lost one finger in that one, but he lost the thumb of the left one.

Galadriel, Finrod, Fingon - all of them ended up with permanent scarring due to frostbite in various degrees. All of the glamoured the scars away for the most part. Even in the Third Age, Galadriel still never let anyone but her close family see the marks the cold had left on her. Even if so long had passed, and even if she could talk of the Helcaraxe, she never quite got over the trauma that having her skin freeze gave her, maybe because it had been the first time she had truly understood how she could have very easily lost her life.

[fraink5-writes]

From Darkness Into the Lantern Light - Chapter 13

The final chapter!! But hopefully, it’s not the end of Childe and Zhongli’s journey...

@leio13 is the best for editing this (and for everything else she does)

Summary: Once upon a time, there was a cold-hearted queen. Although the Tsaritsa, as she was called, possessed her own divinity, she coveted the powers of the other Archons. Aiming to steal the Geo Archon’s gnosis, she sent her strongest warriors to Liyue Harbor. But just when Rex Lapis was almost defeated, he escaped to another vessel, that of a powerless baby, and was swept away to a hidden tower for his protection.

Many years after the great fight, the young and ambitious Harbinger, Childe, arrives in Liyue to grant the Tsaritsa’s desire, but, on his search for the Geo Archon’s gnosis, he ends up tangled in a mysterious man’s dreams to see Liyue Harbor’s Lantern Rite.

This chapter can also be found on Ao3 here. Without further ado, please enjoy!

“Zhongli!” A familiar voice beckoned the archon from unconsciousness. Zhongli? Yes, that was the name he was quite fond of—especially in gentle, whimsical tones. “Zhongli, let down your hair!”

As Zhongli’s vision came to, the first thing he noticed was the trail of his hair leading out the window, by which his “mother” was standing, next to the discarded flowers. Although his strength had not fully returned, his physical senses slowly returned. A burning chill coiled around his wrists, legs and throat; heavy chains bound him to the wall. 

 Then there was a tug on his hair followed by the sound of climbing steps. Ajax. Zhongli’s heart, which had been lifeless before, danced about in irrepressible excitement. Ajax jumped through the window, landing shakily. Discolored skin peaked out beneath his clothes. Zhongli’s eyes shot open.

“Zhongli, I’m sor—”

The blonde woman hovered behind him, the golden accents of a spear glinting in her grip.

“AJAX!!”

As Ajax drew a single alarmed breath, the spear swiftly pierced through his abdomen. Its gold tip was stained incarnadine as it burst from the blossoming rose of blood on his stomach. More blood sputtered from his contorted lips.

“‘Ajax?’” The woman scoffed, “Like the great hero? Ha! Don’t make me laugh.” She pulled the spear from Ajax’s abdomen, and he crumpled onto the bed of forsaken flowers. “A bloodthirsty murderer like you could never be like that. You’re Tartaglia, no. 11 of the Harbingers. Although at this point, you’re no more than a traitor.”

Ajax slumped further under a great shadow.

“That’s not true,” Zhongli spat.

“Oh?” The female Harbinger put down the spear and turned her attention to Zhongli. “You still feel like fighting? I was hoping you’d be more reasonable when you woke up... Oh well...” She sighed then lifted his chin, meeting his glare with menacing eyes. “It doesn’t seem like you understand the situation. You are coming with me to Snezhnaya.”

“No.” Zhongli shook his head from her grasp. “I refuse.”

“Let’s be logical here. There is nothing for you here. Liyue doesn’t need Rex Lapis anymore. And even your precious hero, Ajax—” The Fatui woman threw an affected pitious glance towards Ajax, who was still—”doesn’t have much time left. But you can still find a purpose at Zapolyarny Palace with the Tsaritsa.”

Zhongli wanted to deny her, but he couldn’t. His days as Liyue’s archon were long over, and his short frolic with Ajax had run its course. He could never be satisfied with the ending, but just as he, over the course of 6,000 years, had watched time strip him of the people close to him, he was powerless to resist it this time again.

“No... Zhongli…” A weak voice rasped by the window.

There’s still time. Zhongli glared up at the Fatui woman. “I will make a contract with you.”

“Oh?” The woman grinned. “What are your terms?” 

“If you let me heal Ajax and swear that neither you nor any of your affiliates will bring harm to him again, I will surrender the gnosis which resides in my hair to the Tsaritsa.”

Despite her initial frown, the woman agreed to the contract and undid Zhongli’s shackles.

Zhongli rushed on stumbling legs to Ajax’s side. “Ajax, it’ll be all right now.”

“No, Zhongli…”

“Please.” Zhongli rapidly coiled up his hair. “Let me concentrate.”

“Wait.” Ajax grabbed Zhongli’s hand as he tried to cover the wound with his hair. 

“There isn’t time.” Zhongli shook free from Ajax’s grip. “Please.”

“Signora is right.” Ajax reached up with his left hand and faintly stroked Zhongli’s cheek. “Liyue doesn’t need Rex Lapis anymore. But, Zhongli…” His embrace firmed as his right arm, dagger in hand, wrapped around Zhongli’s neck and sliced his ponytail right off. “You deserve to be free.”

“Ajax?” Zhongli watched powerlessly as his hair fell in dark coils on the ground. “Why?” He shook his head. As long as Ajax was breathing, Zhongli couldn’t give up so easily. He lifted Ajax’s head gingerly onto his lap. “No, hang on, I’ll find another way—there has to be something—”

“Zhongli.” Ajax squeezed Zhongli’s frantic hands. “It’s over.”

“No, that can’t be. Not yet.”

“Childe has wreaked enough havoc; this end is long overdue.” Ajax’s fingers fell limp in Zhongli’s hands.

“But what about Ajax?”

“Ajax, huh?” A reminiscent curl floated to Ajax’s lips.

Zhongli tenderly caressed Ajax’s face from the corners of his smile to the tousles of his bangs until the warmth disappeared beneath his fingers. He delicately laid his body on the bed of flowers and closed his unbearably lightless eyes. 

Picking up the tainted spear, Zhongli rose silently to his feet.

In the corner, sweat was dripping down La Signora’s face. “That’s quite a shame, but he did it to himself. I did not break the contract.”

“The contract is void.”

“Then, surely, Rex Lapis, we can think up another one with more feasible terms…?” Signora shrank further into the corner.

Zhongli advanced with plodding steps.

“Wait, Zhongli—”

Zhongli drove the spear’s rufescent tip through her chest, and her body thudded on the floor.

With his rage-driven strength gone, Zhongli staggered back to where Ajax lay. He squeezed his brittle fingers and brushed through his hair the way he had done before, but this time, Ajax would not wake. There were no more dreams behind his smiling mask.

Despite his great strength, Morax was unable to protect a single, small and fragile human. Another person had passed away in his arms. Over 6,000 years, time had claimed the lives of humans, adepti and gods alike, leaving Morax in timeless solitude. Although the clock struck too soon, Ajax was no exception; even if his body remained, it too would be reclaimed by time, leaving only a brief haze of memories.

Zhongli’s chest and throat constricted with a caustic ache. His shoulders shuddered as swelling tears inflamed his cheeks. Then he collapsed, burying his face into Ajax’s still chest. The steady trickle of tears soaked into his jacket, at which Zhongli clutched feebly. He couldn’t let go, clinging to the promise of heroic adventures and quests for new dreams, of whispered contracts and gentle embraces, of playful grins and scintillating blue irises. But they had all been snatched away along with the future.

Zhongli felt a small thump under his cheek. Then another. Then two more. One by one, the thumps created a steady rhythm. Then, Ajax’s chest swelled, causing Zhongli to jump up. “Ajax?” He gaped at the weak movements of Ajax’s chest as a warm color bloomed across his face. A violent diaphragmatic spasm was accompanied by coughing. 

Zhongli propped Ajax’s body up against the wall then he glanced down; besides the bloodstained hole in his clothes, all evidence of the wound had vanished. As Morax, he wondered if some of his gnosis remained dormant in his chest, but as Zhongli, he was grateful for whatever miracle had worked in his favor. 

Zhongli cupped Ajax’s soft cheek. Ajax’s eyelids cracked open, revealing his oceanesque eyes. “...Zhong..li?”

Zhongli nodded.

“...Can I call you that?”

“Yes. Please.”

“You know…” Ajax combed his fingers through Zhongli’s disheveled haircut. “Your hair must be way more convenient like this.”

Zhongli couldn’t help but laugh. Ajax was right; Zhongli felt lighter, free from a huge burden. “Do you remember the other night, during the Lantern Rite?”

“Mmm… How could I forget?”

“We never finalized our contract.” Zhongli slid his fingers until Ajax’s chin.

Ajax flashed a crooked grin. “Remind me again; what are the terms?”

“From now on, stay by my side.”

“If it’s just that, I don’t need a contract.” Ajax laughed as he reached out with his other hand, his fingers circling lightly behind Zhongli’s ear. “I, Ajax, promise I will never leave you again.” 

“And as long as you live, I, Zhongli, will remain by your side.” Raising Ajax’s chin and cupping both his cheeks, Zhongli planted a thoughtful kiss on Ajax’s lips. Its taste was a mixture of bittersweet blood and tears and warm vitality. As their lips interlocked, Ajax’s combing fingers massaged Zhongli’s brain, easing away all thoughts. Even though the future had made a beautiful return, Zhongli paid it no regard, wishing for nothing but the present.

“Hey, Zhongli,” Ajax’s whispers titillated Zhongli’s lips. “You never told me—what is your new dream?”

There was little point in answering that question anymore—at least not aloud. Zhongli’s lips curled as they pressed a deeper kiss on Ajax’s mouth.

***

Even when Ajax and Zhongli returned to Liyue Harbor (this time, taking the fast route by boat), they could not settle down. Zhongli was a man without an identity, and Ajax, a wanted criminal. Upon immediate arrival, they were whisked from the Alcor by some Millelith soldiers.

“The Tianquan would like to see you,” one of the soldiers announced.

Zhongli stepped in front, shielding Ajax with his body. “I believe there is a misunderstanding.”

“Zhongli.” Ajax sighed and stepped out from behind. “I will take responsibility for what I’ve done.” When Ajax thought of his actions that led to his arrest warrant in the first place, he felt such great shame that he couldn’t even look at Zhongli. I’ll play along, so just don’t mention the specific offenses—not in front of him.

The Millelith reviewed his papers with a chuckle. “I think there might be. The one she’d like to see is the man named Zhongli, not the Fatui agent.”

Ajax and Zhongli exchanged several confused glances before Ajax spoke up again. “What for?”

“Only the Tianquan knows that. It’s strictly confidential.”

“I’m coming too,” declared Ajax, tightly squeezing Zhongli’s hand.

“Be my guest. She didn’t say anything about additional guests.” The soldier shrugged. “But I don’t know how well a Fatui criminal will fare in the Jade Chamber.”

The main room of the Jade Chamber was an impressively spacious office flooded with white light from the high windows. To one side, an infamous board stood, smothered in papers, and behind the scroll-stacked desk, tall vases and jade leaf screens gave the space an additional flare of opulence. Upon arrival, Ajax and Zhongli were met by a woman with white hair falling below the knees and a gold-adorned qipao—undeniably the Tianquan—and, surprisingly, Captain Beidou.

“Hey, long time no see!” The Captain, with a familiar grin, strolled out from behind the desk, followed by the Tianquan.

“Welcome to my Jade Chamber. I am Ningguang, Tianquan of the Qixing.” Ningguang approached Zhongli with a courteous bow. Her brief glance at Ajax, however, was chilling. Zhongli returned the bow as Ajax retreated tactically into the corner. “Beidou has told me all about you, ...Zhongli.”

“What did she tell you?” Zhongli’s tone lacked its prior timidity about his identity.

“About your real identity.”

“I had my suspicions,” Beidou interrupted. “And some beat-up bankers filled in the rest.”

Zhongli shot Ajax a glance, and although he had his suspicions, Ajax just shrugged.

“Welcome back to Liyue Harbor, my Lord.” Lowering her head, Ningguang dropped to her knees, with Beidou following suit. Silent reverence stunned the room, singling out Zhongli, the figure of authority, and Ajax, who squirmed uncomfortably. Should he have kneeled too?

“Do not lower your head, Tianquan.” Zhongli helped Ningguang to her feet. “Liyue belongs in the hands of the Qixing now. You must lead them with pride.”

“I do not understand…” 

“Morax is dead. The city of Liyue now looks to you for wisdom and guidance.”

“Yes, my—” Ningguang shook her head, wiping away the tear on her cheek. “No, I will see to it, as the Tianquan of the Qixing, that Liyue’s 3,700 year history of prosperity continues into the future.”

“A fine response. I can trust Liyue in your hands.” Zhongli wore a proud smile. “Ah—wait, I have one final request.”

“Yes? What do you wish?”

Zhongli grabbed Ajax’s hand and pulled him closer. “Exonerate him of his recent crimes.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand. If that’s what you wish, I will see it done, but—”

“I know what he has done—” Zhongli wrapped his arm around Ajax’s waist—” But he is also the one that saved me.” His words lit a flame under Ajax’s cheeks, who tried to wriggle out of Ningguang’s gaze.

“Is that so?” Ningguang giggled. “Very well.” 

After clearing up the issue of Ajax’s punishment, Zhongli and Ningguang engaged in a long discussion of history, economics and politics. Ajax didn’t bother to keep up; he was content to watch the subtle fluctuations in Zhongli’s smile as he imparted his wisdom. Such peace, however, only brought drowsiness upon him, and he excused himself to the Jade Chamber’s deck for fresh air. 

Ajax peered at the expanse of Liyue’s scenery below him. It was truly nothing like Snezhnaya; although mountainous, it was rife with colors. In the days he had trekked across its diverse scenes, many vivid emotions had blossomed on his monotonous heart.

A warm arm draped across Ajax’s back to his waist. “Ningguang has assured that she will discuss the issue of your punishment with the rest of the Qixing,” Zhongli stated. “With that almost settled, what do you plan to do now?”

“It’s not over yet.” Ajax gazed at the distant snowy landscape.

Zhongli sighed. “Yes, we will need to settle issues with the Tsaritsa.”

The Tsaritsa… Ajax had tried to preoccupy himself with thoughts of Zhongli and their future, but thoughts of the Cryo Archon weighed heavily on his shoulders. Not only had Ajax gone against her will, but his heart had betrayed her. He, who had sworn his absolute loyalty to her, could no longer serve her as he once did.

“Ajax. I will go with you to Snezhnaya, and I will talk to the Tsaritsa. I have my own business with her, anyway.”

“No, I must settle this on my own.”

“You’re right.” Zhongli’s eyes were the stern ambers that had held humanity accountable for centuries. “This is the punishment and atonement you must bear for your transgressions. However”—his features melted into a reassuring smile—”If you must live with this guilt for the rest of your life, I will help you shoulder it.”

“Is that really the Wrath of Rock?” Ajax cracked a small grin. “Man, the years have really softened you.”

“No, the age of the Geo Archon and the Wrath of Rock has passed. Additionally, as Zhongli, it would be dishonest to scorn your actions which have benefitted me.”

Perhaps Ajax was wrong. Zhongli’s leniency had not weakened him at all; instead, it had given strength to Ajax’s crumbling courage. He squeezed Zhongli closer. “Well, it won’t be so bad. I am looking forward to seeing my family again.”

“As am I. I would love to meet them.”

“Of course, I’ll introduce you to my family, and then—and then what? What would you like to do, Zhongli?”

“Hmm… now that I’m no longer the Geo Archon… Well, I suppose I’ll do what I’ve always done, this time living fully as a mortal.”

“Hm?”

“Do you know of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor? I think I would like to work there.”

“A funeral parlor? Why?”

“Well, it feels as though I’ve already died once.” Zhongli curled at the short tips of his hair.

Ajax gently stopped Zhongli’s insecure hand. “Do you miss your long hair?”

“Even before I accidentally transferred my gnosis, I used to keep my hair long. It’s bizarre at this length.”

“It’s not weird.” Ajax kissed Zhongli’s lips, brushing his fingers lightly through his silky, dark hair. “I think it suits you, Zhongli.”

[chisie12]

Gency Week Day 7: Camellia/My Destiny Is In Your Hands

Day 7: My Destiny Was Always In Your Hands AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19071907/chapters/46102117

This chapter is for Obamacare4u and for @glazzrain, for loving this series when I was insecure about it myself. Special thanks and love to a certain hobbit @historicfailure writer for helping me with this <3 It’s also for all the others who had silently loved this. The final chapter!

Closing the book in her hands, there was a moment where she simply stared off into space. Her mind wasn’t whirling with thoughts nor was she terribly troubled by it, rather... she felt at a loss. Was this what he had intended? To blindside her with this book? Filled with his feelings and memories? Staring blankly at the book, she traced the golden calligraphy of the title, feeling the slight friction and raised bumps of the dried ink under her fingernail.  

‘Was he afraid I'd forget him?’ 

‘You already did.’ 

‘I’m remembering him now though?’ 

‘He’s already reduced to a mere memory to you in his mind. It’s never the same.’ 

She gave a rueful grin, bringing the book closer to her chest and held it close. How much pain had he been suffering? Because of her. He never once complained about it, not even when he initially found her coincidentally in the café. It was like he had accepted her and was willing to start anew.  

A drop of water plopped as her head ached with a dull thump. Like a crack in the sky, rain began to pitter-patter on the cold pavement. Looking up with a wince and fingers on her temple, she watched the rain fall from inside the kitchen, staring at the reflection of light dancing in the water curtain.  

‘It was raining when I found him too. Just like it was raining after dinner in the office.’ 

Hugging the book with an arm, she reached out the open backdoor to touch the cold falling droplets, letting it trickle down the slender fingers. They move slowly around her digits, the droplets transparent yet opaque, falling as if beckoned to the ground with the crook of a siren’s finger. With the breeze, her fingers grew cold, but would it be crazy if she said that she felt warm at the touch, as though she felt close to it, a bond that couldn’t be broken. 

‘Because it’s a connection between him and I?’  She bitterly chuckled before retracting it back into the warmth of the kitchen.  

Seeing that the time for her break was almost up, she hurriedly returned to her job, settling the book back into the bag and dumping it under the counter. Yet, drama already started to roll before she even stepped out of the kitchen. 

“Moira? What are you doing here.” Mei’s tone was flat with an edge around it, though the smile remained. It lacked any warmth, having simply been forced there as the shorter woman looked at the newest incomer. 

Brushing the ginger hair out of her mismatched eyes, she grinned lazily at Mei. “It’s been a while, Doctor Zhou, but I wonder if I could still read your colleagues' research into the long-term effects of cryogenic freezing.” 

Mei tried to stay firm against the woman, but she couldn’t deny the tremble in her knees, the tight grip on her pen as she inwardly cried softly: Why is this woman even here! Moira’s smile may have seemed friendly to those oblivious, but Mei knew first-hand of the mad woman’s persistence in science and its discoveries, and her experiments can be lethal. Look at Widowmaker, damn it!  

Moira went up to the counter, the lethal grin still on her sharp face. “Could I place my order?”  

“Yes... Well... S-Sure... maybe?” Mei’s smile twitched as she dug her heel onto the floor, stopping her from taking a step back and ignoring Moira’s knowing smile at the same time. There’s nothing Moira could do to her now, don’t panic, don’t worry, she kept telling herself. With a deep breath, she recollected herself and asked in a friendly manner, “What would you like to order?”  

Before the ginger woman could even get a word in, Angela appeared from the kitchen with a paper bag in hand. “Moira? What are you doing here?” 

Pleasant surprise shone in those pair of mismatched eyes. “You’ve remembered, huh? Took you long enough.” Confusion flitted across both Mei and Angela’s faces. Moira laughed in dark glee at the sight before gesturing for Angela to talk to her in a corner. The two women shared a glance when the café owner ultimately agreed. Looked like she was extending her break time.  

“How’s your head doing?” Moira asked when the pair reached a quiet spot in the corner of the café. Buds of camellias decorated the café this week, dotting the place with various tones of red, pink and white, where even a row blocked them from view of curious onlookers.  

Angela was apprehensive and Moira rolled her eyes at the blonde doctor’s silence. “I’m the one that helped you recover your memories, Doctor Ziegler.” A groan escaped her lips when Angela stared incredulously at her. “It wasn’t hard. Those quack doctors don’t even know what they’re doing. Your body’s been altered with your applied nanobiology, so it has always been functioning different than normal humans.”  

“Oh.”  

“I’ve already stimulated your cells to begin their proper, actual recovery. So, how are you feeling?”  

Angela nodded her head slowly, digesting the new information that she was told. “It’s not hurting as when I first remembered a memory. But I feel like I haven’t remembered everything.”  

Moira drummed her fingers on the table, resting her chin in the propped-up palm thoughtfully. “It seems like quite a slow process. But it should be the majority of your memories because by now only two weeks had passed. Do you feel any different?” 

Angela shook her head. She felt nothing different apart from feeling a lot lighter than she used to be.  

Moira nodded slowly. “Alright. After today, you should probably remember it all.” 

“What do you mean –”  

A clawed hand reached out towards her face, the limb enlarged and glowing orange before her eyes. A chill ran down her spine as fear quickly consumed her. Subconsciously, Angela moved back from the unknown but Moira was quicker. She shot to her feet and leaned forward; the sound of the chair scrapping back echoing exceptionally loud in Angela’s ears. A cold sensation washed over her body, but unlike the odd warmth that she felt before, this was a cold that chilled her bones to their very core. She forced herself to keep breathing, to stop the panic from rising in her chest, and the palm descended upon her head. Fingernails dug into her scalp, sight shrouded in a flickering orange and she felt a force enter her cells. It stimulated the blood in her veins, causing them to pulsate and thump with a life force unlike the norm. A tinge of gold surfaced from the red cells, detaching and floating in the stream of blood as though they belonged before hopping and allowing the current to bring them away. They travelled through every vein, every stream, bringing about a chilly comfort in her body as she felt lighter and lighter, and the dull ache in her head fully disperse, dissolving into the shadows with no traces of its existence.  

But images danced in her mind, filled with voices and emotions, rushing and flashing like a movie on play. She saw a young blonde girl chasing after her father and mother, a loving couple who kissed her and called her their little angel; she saw death and chaos as the world fell into ruins with the war on omnics; found light in saving and healing people with her own two hands, that there was where she belonged. And then there was a shroud of darkness before her sight was filled with still colours and light, and Moira’s smug grin was clear in front of her eyes.  

“That should be all but it should come back to you over time. Maybe in the next month or so.” 

 Angela blinked to steady the blurring of her vision, slumping into her seat, not recognising the farewell Moira gave or the sound of her departure, for she was too focused on the memories playing in her mind.  

 ~*~*~ 

 I thanked the elderly man for the keys and walked into my new apartment. It was slightly on the older age, but still sturdy and comfortable despite the weather on the walls. It was a little out of the city, nearer to the outskirts, with flowering trees lining the pavements. My room was a lot smaller than the dorm room I had in the bureau, but it gave me a sense of control and freedom as I looked at the white walls, the wooden frame of the hard bed, and the similar hard wood furnishings around the place. It was perfect, at least it was for the next month before I leave.  

Dropping my bag on the round table, I tugged the scarf away from my neck as I slowly made my way to the large window. I felt no pain except for the malfunctioning of my cyborg self. I was limping, the left leg heavier than my right and it would creak as it bent at the knee. I pulled it up and straightened it on to the wide ledge by the windowsill, leaving my other leg dangling down as I rested my chin on the crook of my elbow, watching the people go about in their daily lives. They were laughing and smiling leisurely, unlike the lowered heads of those busy bustling in the city. Pink flower petals rustled and drifted down, painting the grey pavements a bright colour. It reminded me of the time when Sakura blossoms would bloom in Hanamura and I’d watch people pass just like this. Simple and carefree. And that’s when I caught sight of my own reflection against the glass, the dark black hair hanging limply against my forehead, locks having grown longer. My eyes traced the scars on my face like they’ve done so many times before, yet I felt at peace. At peace with the scars, at peace with my choices. It wouldn’t be long now.  

All there’s left was dinner. 

I sat there, remembering the memories that she and I shared in the past weeks, a tender smile floating on my lips. Even when there was the pitter and patter of rain against my window, my eyes closed for favour of basking itself in Nature’s orchestra. Soft and rhythmic, battering against the glass, and I descended into darkness at the gentle lull of sleep, one where I was free from the jeering and murmured insults behind my back, one where I felt safe.  

 ~*~*~ 

 But his rest wasn’t long at all, because on the fourth day after settling in, his left leg was acting up; It refused to bend and move according to his wishes, lying straight as a rod, as dead as any metal could be. Heavy pants heaved his chest to rise and fall, fingers tightly gripping the metal thigh as desperation silently screamed in his scarred countenance. Move, just move, damn it! There was a panic in his eyes when the mere feeling of his leg faded, as though the leg became simply what it was before: A dead metal. Fuck, fuck, fuck. No! His fingers clawed into the dead thigh, unwilling to accept the sheer hopelessness of the situation, and in a fit of despair, I started beating at my leg, pounding at it with my fists in hope that it’ll move. Just fucking move! I should have known that my light was frail, that my hope was nothing but a fleeting moment, a wistful thinking. The deep darkness swallowed me whole, diminishing all the happiness and bliss of all that I looked forward to. I cried in anguish while wrapping my hands around the thigh from where flesh met metal, the vision blurring in my eyes as a layer of wetness appeared on the surface.  

Why? Why now! 

Another howl was ripped from my throat and I laid down in defeat on my thigh, my sweaty forehead coming into contact with it.  

Please. Why?  

Couldn’t you have lasted another month? 

Fuuuck!  

Roaring out in unwilling rage, I harshly brought my fist back down onto the thigh, slamming it with every ounce of power that I could muster. The moment my fist pounded onto the limb, there was an instant jerk and a painful shock electrifying my senses that made me wince and cry out in pain. A relieved, wet smile broke out on my face when I felt the tingling sensation running along the limb.  

Oh, God. Fucking hell. Fuck. 

I grunted, willing my leg to move. It twitched, sending sparks of joy off in me. Any movement was better than none, right? I kneaded at my thigh, urging for the blood to flow in the flesh, hoping that it would stimulate it to function. A deep breath in and I tried again, but the more I pushed, the more it felt like I was trying to move a hundred-year old tree trunk. It inched bit by bit towards the edge of the bed, toes wiggling in between – A desperate grasp onto hope if you will.  

A dull thump echoed in the silent room when the foot dropped onto the floor, leaving only the sounds of my heavy breathing. Sweat oozed out from my every pore, jet black hair clinging onto my face, feeling like the battlefield was already half won. Pushing off the bed, I grimaced as my arm creaked under the pressure and got to my feet. The room tilted and swayed, and I quickly steadied my staggering feet. A foot lifted, toes tapping on the floorboards, and I was elated at the sensation of touch. Breathing out the stress bubbling in my stomach, I combed my hair back with a hand, preparing myself for a very long day.  

 ~*~*~ 

 When the night came, I had somehow gotten my leg to manage walking around like a normal human, and not lug around like a headless zombie. Dropping onto the chair, I stared proud yet pained at my leg, and then my hands. How nice would it have been if I was human? Then I could go see a doctor for any pain that I would have and I could cure with just the simplest medicine or physiotherapy, but no. I had to suffer at the hands of my older brother, turned into a machine for the use of others, and when I thought fate had been kind enough with giving me her presence in my life, allowing me to see the light in the dark, it equally ripped it away and now I’m left with a broken body that no one could possibly fix.  

“Haha... That’s just how it is. My life’s not mine to live for.”  

My soul had been battered and bruised, scarred and cut, leaving behind just a graveyard of buried hopes.  

But at least I’ll spend the last of it with her, and then I’ll gladly dissolve away into just being her memories.  

A deep rumble echoed from the depths of my empty stomach as a laughter burst from my chest. Before that, food! As I stood up, proud that I didn’t stumble or fall, I dove for my phone on the bed, only to jump in fright when the device suddenly vibrated and rang.  

‘Some agent I am,’ I chuckled lowly, bringing the phone up to my ear after accepting the call. “Hello? Genji speaking.” 

“Genji, it’s Gabriel.” 

Subconsciously, I straightened my back and levelled my tone as I gave him my greetings. 

“There’s no time for that right now. I know you’re no longer an agent, but I have a request to make. Is there a way for us to meet?”  

I frowned at the severity in his voice. “Alright, I’ll meet you at the office.” 

“No. Not there. It’s not safe here. We need to meet somewhere else.”  

My frown deepened while I sat up properly atop the bed. There was of course another option to meet up at, plenty actually, but for those that were actually safe?  Those were far few and between. Eyes glanced around the quaint little room, teeth gritting in uncertainty. Should I offer up the one place of a sanctuary that I’ve managed to find? One where my frantic heart could calm at, where I wouldn’t be judged endlessly?  

I really wanted to say no, that I’ve changed my mind. Besides, it wouldn’t be unreasonable of me, right? I did, after all, decide to leave behind the battlefield of shattered dreams and dark hopes. But this was Gabriel that we were talking about, the one man that, grumpily and secretly happy (I’m sure), took me in despite the war machine I was created into, gave me a place like home that – Sigh. 

“Genji?” 

“Meet me at my place. I’ll send you the address.” 

I couldn’t regret it even if I wanted to now. 

 ~*~*~ 

 A series of raps sounded on the door and my head whipped up to stare at it unhappily with the noodles in my mouth. Slurping the rest of it down, I stood up while a resigned sigh escaped.  

I came face to face with Gabriel’s haggard appearance upon unlocking the door, which brought forth a wave of confusion as it was a sight rarely seen on the man. He stepped into the room while the scent of food assaulted his nose, waking him just ever so slightly. Tired eyes scanned the minimal possessions that littered the place, before falling upon the unfinished cup of instant noodles by the table. 

Apologetically, he turned towards me when I walked past him and back to my dinner. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, Genji.”  

“It’s alright. What happened?” I fought the urge to squirm under his watchful gaze. Had he noticed? Of slowing steps and ragged movements?  

“It’s Jack.”  

I paused mid-action, the slightly warm noodles caressing my open lips that curved into a frown. Jack. It’s Jack again. Exhaling the rising anger with a deep breath, I reluctantly put my food down when the atmosphere grew tense and breathing was a little hard. 

Gabriel took my stare and silence as a sign to continue. “On the day you resigned, Jack took it upon himself to complete a mission that was initially put aside for you.” 

“What kind of mission?” 

“An infiltration mission. Recent intel reports gathered that the real Slade is the real owner behind the Lumiere corporation that owns majority of the high-end hotels.” 

I nodded, indicating that I was following along in understanding the situation. With that much power and money, he could easily build up another underground drug ring, and with that kind of potential customer base, he could easily gain more profits. The only thing I couldn’t fathom was: “Why make the corpse poison then?”  

Gabriel bitterly laughed. “That... is probably related to us. We have reasons to believe that that poison was concocted to be used on us, the “scum of the earth” as Slade put not-so-subtly.”  

“Us? What did we do?”  

“Remember Blackwatch?” Gabriel sighed as he dropped onto the chair. “With the stories of assassination, coercion, kidnapping, torture, and others that went around, he was one of those extremists that believed Overwatch was a façade put up for our real identity: Blackwatch.” 

My lips tugged downwards at the distant memory. Blackwatch had been created and it was present at some point, but it was not exactly those rumours made it out to be. It was, to put it simply, the ones that did the dirty work for Overwatch, as the latter was made to maintain peace and fight against terrorism. It had to show up a ‘good’ front to the public, but there were scuffles that couldn’t be done in a ‘nice guy’ way, if you knew what I mean.  

“So, the mission was to infiltrate the company and take him out, and if possible, to destroy all sources of the corpse poison,” Gabriel finished with a dejected sigh.  

And I could see why it was originally left aside for me until I recovered. No one was stealthier than I was. This was easy for a ninja after all. I looked at Gabriel’s slumped form. Sure, I now understood the bigger picture, but something still nagged at me. Infiltration missions were fairly normal and we got them sometimes while at the bureau, but why the extreme secrecy? There shouldn’t be a reason that we couldn’t have met at the bureau, unless...  

Gabriel watched grimly as the realisation dawned upon my face. I returned it with a wide-eyed stare full of shock. Mouth slightly agape, fingers trembling.  

Unless, there was a mole. 

There must be something or someone that he was trying to avoid, a factor that could potentially jeopardise the entire mission that Jack was on, one that could endanger his life. Which could then explain how every Overwatch member was sent an envelope with the dinner party at Lumiere Hotel because I was pretty damn certain that our information was confidential (the invitation was a dead giveaway that it was a trap anyway).  

Gabriel nodded in agreement, as though he could hear my thoughts just from my changing expression alone. The man probably could. “We’ve already suspected that there was a mole in the bureau from the moment we received the envelope, but didn’t think they’d make another move so fast. Jack’s mission has already been compromised.”  

“What?” 

“We’ve already lost contact with him for,” he glanced at his watched with pursed lips, “by now, 13 hours. He was supposed to check in with us over an hour ago.”  

My expression was scrunched up as logic was playing in my mind. The lack of communication itself shouldn’t indicate a compromised mission, especially not if it’s only been less than 24 hours. The situation might have changed where Jack could not check in with the team, an occurrence that happened fairly often.  

The rustling of clothes caught my attention and I watched curiously as Gabriel slipped a hand into his trench coat, revealing a wrinkled white envelope that was lined with plastic from the sound of crinkles. He pushed it across the table and I took it into my hands, breath turning sharp and expression going grim at the chopped off phalanges. It seemed freshly cut as the blood still looked red and bright, with a little block of white from the bone sticking out at the end, and from the looks of it, it seemed to be Jack’s little finger.  

“This was sent an hour ago.”  

They’ve already got him, was what Gabriel didn’t say. Closing the envelope, I looked up to face him in the eye. “And you want me to go and save him?”  

Gabriel closed his eyes, face tight and lips straight. When I saw the dark gaze hidden beneath the eyelids, the light in them had dimmed. “Please? Could you?” 

“And at the same time, finish the mission,” I finished flatly. Holding my hand out, he dropped the USB flash drive fished out of his pocket, but before he dropped it into my palm, he turned to me seriously. 

“Are you sure that you’ll do this? You need to understand that you’ll be doing this as a hired assassin, rather than someone from within the bureau.” 

“And if I get into trouble, you and the bureau will pretend to not know me at all. My files will be wiped. I understand.” 

“Then why do this? You don’t have to.”  

I could only give him a wry smile. “I don’t. But I want to.” 

Gabriel sighed, feeling the heavy guilt weighing hard on his mind, and finally dropped the USB flash drive into my hand. “Have access to a computer?” 

“My phone should work.”  

The chair scrapped along the floor when Gabriel got to his feet. I followed suit.  

“Thank you, for doing this, Genji.” His voice sounded weary, vulnerable even.  

“It’s not a worry, Gabriel. The least I could do for you.” I’m sure he caught onto the specific words in my sentence but he smiled it off.  

“Good luck.” 

With the door now locked, I went back to my bed, pulling open the drawer by its side as I searched for a certain device. It was a small and black little connector that would connect his phone to the USB flash drive Gabriel left, and it wasn’t until he was about to insert the flash drive that his phone lit up with a new short message.  

Angela: Hey, are you asleep?  

I vaguely sensed the outlines of the phone in my fingers from gripping it tighter and tighter. I wanted to so badly reply that no, I’m not. And hopefully hear her voice, a sweet melodious tune dancing, with lips curved and soul at peace, but no. I couldn’t. It was enchanting, so much so that once I was drawn in, I fear I wouldn’t leave and if I didn’t, then the mission wouldn’t be completed and Jack. Jack would die.  

He’d die.  

Not like he was ever my problem.  

My thumb tapped and held against the glass screen, forcing it to stay lit as I stared at the words. Not daring to unlock it, afraid I’d be shown online for that brief passing in the messaging app, I dropped my tense shoulders and my hands onto the bed. 

Yes, I hadn’t wanted to leave. Staying and visiting her would be my priority for my remaining days here, tasting her food and drinking her coffee, and when the day was right, I’d bring her out for dinner. Not a day too late, but not a day too early either. A dangerous balance to tease, for the former would be risking it against my injuries and already failing limbs, but the latter would make me wish for more, want more, and that was dangerous. Having any desires was a hindrance to my already decided plans; I wouldn’t dare leave when I had to, I wouldn’t want to leave her.  

A heavy feeling had settled in my gut when I chose swipe her message aside and to plug in the USB flash drive, choosing to accept and allow the device permission in my phone, and also choosing to ignore her.  

Because it was one thing to live in blissful ignorance. Being with her would most definitely be the wasabi to my soy sauce and I know I would find joy in her presence, but choosing so would forsake Jack, and in turn, forsake knowing why Jack did what he did.  

I’m not out to seek comfort for his actions, not out to satisfy my humanly urges at wanting to know why. Seeking the truth was seeking liberation.  

It only took a couple of seconds for the phone to load everything that was in the USB flash drive and the icon of one folder appeared, so lonesome yet so frighteningly dreadful. And one tap on that folder sealed away any other wistful thoughts that I so endearingly held in this fleeting four days of freedom.  

 ~*~*~ 

 She blew at the long bangs before her eyes away exasperatedly with a huff. Her blonde locks were getting a little long now, the front bangs already reaching below her chin even with a slight wave. Groaning, she combed her hair with her fingers, bringing all of them up into a high ponytail and tying it tight with the hair tie she held between her lips.  

Fishing out her phone from her pocket, she stared at the time and grunted unhappily. With a small scowl and her phone stuffed back into the pocket, she turned around and left the kitchen to smile at any customers by the counter.  

It’s been four weeks since she last heard from Genji. Not a peep. Not a word.  

Her messages had been sending through at first, measured by the double ticks that appeared, but they’ve never been replied to, and his last seen was also a month ago. At first, it was worry and concern on her part when she didn’t hear a word from him, that something was wrong and something might have happened, but yesterday, on her day off, with her recovering memories, she took it upon herself to visit the one building she hadn’t been to in nearly six months: The Intelligence Bureau.  

The building was still grand, tall and wide in cream coloured walls and a dusty red roof. Tall evergreen trees on either side of the entrance and its steps lined up its perimeter. She remembered the nervousness she felt, staring up at such a place. Cladded in her long coat, standing in the late summer wind, she stood there by the entrance as waves and waves of memories flashed by, though some sweet, mostly were bitter.  

 “Hi, welcome! What can I do for you today?” Angela asked a new customer as they approached the counter.  

“Could I have the caramel slice cake, please? Takeaway.” 

“Sure thing.”  

Angela brought out the caramel slice cake and wished her goodbye, and reminisced.  

 It wasn’t until she saw the first person to exit the building, a familiar face indeed, that she snapped out of her thoughts. Tall and dark skinned, a chiselled jaw even more charming with the short stubble that he was sporting, and hands stuffed in the large pockets of his coat. Equally dark eyes widened in surprise upon catching sight of the blonde café owner. 

“Angela?” 

She managed a small smile at the old acquaintance. “Hi, Gabriel.” 

They had a small talk over lunch, catching up and sorting out any confusion that had bloomed. It was only when she touched upon the topic of Genji that the older man stiffened. 

“Genji... he’s on a mission.” Gabriel managed to utter as he set his drink down.  

With tight brows and a frown, she asked, “Didn’t he retire from the job?”  

And with a resigned sigh, he began to fill her in on the gaps, of how he requested Genji’s assistance, of Jack’s predicament and of the mole in the bureau. He watched her displeasure darken, only to crumble into shock.  

“Do you have the details on the missions?” she had asked. 

Gabriel’s lips had parted before he closed them again and took a gulp of his drink. “You know I can’t hand out the information. It’s confidential. And you’re no longer a member of the bureau.” 

Angela scoffed, averting her eyes from his when she opted to gulp down her annoyance with her tea. “And neither was Genji.” 

Gabriel refused her again, but she was persistent, stubborn once her mind was set to it. Following him back to the bureau, he was helpless against her and they tacitly agreed to ignore the weird looks colleagues and ex-colleagues alike gave. Murmured whispers floated into their ears, like incessant chatter of rats in a corn field.  

And like before, back to a little under six months ago, Angela ignored them all. She never paid any of them a single heed then, and she still wouldn’t now. 

Gabriel’s hand hovered above the doorknob to his office in mid-action of unlocking it just as her voice sounded behind him. “Is Jack’s office open?”  

“No,” his eyebrows were tightly knitted. What had she wanted now?  

“Do you have the keys?” 

Lifting his own set of keys, he turned to look at her with a serious expression. “I do, but why?” No matter what, she was still someone he trusted his life with, a bond forged through the blood, gore and guts of their enemies.  

“Are my things in his room?” It was a mere guess, but she had a gut feeling that the things they moved out from her office would naturally be in his. 

“It... is. Come.” 

And she obediently, wordlessly followed Gabriel to the office a few doors down from his, unlocking it with a resounding click. Stepping into the room, she noted the small layer of dust that covered the place. Neatly stacked papers sat at the side of his table with the desktop computer switched off. A couch and a coffee table in a corner of the room, a bookshelf with some books and files, and there, on the spot behind his table, were boxes arranged nicely. Boxes filled with her things. Her steps were resolute and Gabriel didn’t have the heart to stop her as he watched from the door. Beside those boxes filled with her research and papers, was a fairly large briefcase made of black leather. It was twice the size of the boxes, spanning a little over half a meter long, but she picked it up with ease.  

When he saw her pick it up, he sighed sadly in his heart. There was no turning back now. Angela wouldn’t take no for an answer.  

As she heaved herself up, an odd little object caught her attention from the corner of her eyes. Bending down, she rubbed away at the collected dust using her thumb, exposing the red velvet surface of the box smaller than her palm. She fiddled with it, wiggling her thumb by the crack and forcing it open with a nail, only to abruptly clasp it shut when a heavy memory speared through her mind without warning.  

“Agh!”  

Grimacing at the mere pain, her hand holding the box flew up to her head while Gabriel shot forward to steady her staggering steps. A short memory she recognised, now complete, when the remaining cracks pieced themselves together like a puzzle. She saw flowers – snapdragons – and smelled a fruity smell – orange juice – and somehow, she saw familiar silhouettes.  

A dark haired man and a blond one. 

The last memory. 

When the pain receded, she reassured Gabriel that everything was alright.  

He didn’t voice his concerns but something in her eyes shook his very core. Bright, vivid blue eyes stared dead into his, the spark dim. 

When he entered his office with a heavy heart, he gave her what she wanted: access to the mission details. No hardcopy, no softcopy. Just read it off the computer.  

Because she was going in as a rogue, someone unaffiliated with the bureau. It was a little different from Genji’s situation as he was still technically hired, but Angela? She was going in herself. For herself.  

And he couldn’t stop her no matter what or how he tried.  

 “That’s the last for today. Finally,” Mei cried out as she stretched her back, feeling a few pops along her spine. “Such a long day today.”  

“Yeah, it was,” Angela absentmindedly nodded.  

Mei turned towards her with a frown, dropping her arms to the side and flipped the open sign to close. “What’s wrong? You’ve been out of it today.” 

“It’s... nothing.” Memories were a funny thing, having both good and bad. Without them, she was lost and confused, yet she had to endure silently the humiliation and pain as though nothing was wrong. “When do you leave for your trip to the Arctic?” 

“I was planning to go in a month, so I’m thinking to quit after two weeks.” Mei didn’t comment on Angela’s sudden change in topics, believing that her friend would tell her when she wanted.  

A thoughtful hum from said friend. “I will be gone in the next two weeks. An emergency came up. I was hoping you’d watch over the café for me.”  

A series of impatient knocks cut off Mei’s words as a both ladies turned to the glass door. Scowling behind the glass was Junkrat with two ice creams in his hands, foot tapping on the ground and back slouched. Mei gave Angela an apologetic look and she repeated ‘sorry’ three times as she picked up her bag and rushed towards the door.  

“I’ll take care of the café for the time you’re going! Good night, Angela!” 

“Good -” the café owner smiled helplessly when the Asian woman had already dashed out of the doors, grabbing the strawberry and cream ice cream just as the door swung shut, “...night.” 

When the last of her employees had left for the night and she locked the door behind her, she went home. The summer sunset was warm, but underneath its glow were clouds tinged with dangerous foreboding. People on the sidewalk subconsciously avoided the expressionless blonde, chattering while they walked away. Shadows casted over her face while a deep rumble growled among the clouds. Voices grew louder, higher pitched at the first drop of rain and the women shrieked when the following downpour fell, but not Angela. Soaked to the bone with clothes getting heavier, she padded across the sidewalk silently without complaints, unbothered to remove even her convenient carry-on umbrella.  

Dark coloured patches discoloured the tiled flooring, leading up to her apartment door. The sounds of water sloshing echoed in the empty hallway.  

Click.  

Click. 

And the door shut behind her.  

A blinding white light flashed, lighting up her shadowed features. Like yesterday, the radiance in her eyes had dimmed, but what Gabriel couldn’t catch from the glimpse was the burning desire, one to save the men.  

Men needed to be saved sometimes too, just sometimes by a woman.  

 ~*~*~ 

 Just prior...  

In the dead of the night, a soft caress of the wind mercilessly plucked a few flowers off the trees, bringing them for a dance before selfishly dropping them onto the grassy grounds of the garden and drifting off again. I relished in the cool air upon my face and exposed skin. Stripped from my usual full body suit, I reverted back to something more minimal, but only because the outer shell of my suit had begun crumbling. I flexed my left arm, gripping at nothing but the dancing breeze skating across my bare arm and I couldn’t help the smile that flitted across my lips. My mask was swapped in favour of the old one as well, one that covered my head but retained a gap for my eyes, unlike the green visor that my latest suit had.  

A couple of voices wafted in the air and I immediately slunk back into the shadows of the leafy tree I was lying in, careful to mask any rustling alongside the wind’s path. With thick stems and lush green leaves, it served as the perfect cover for the night.  

I had been staking out the building for over the past three weeks, observing and watching the patterns of those going in and out, and those already inside. Not once in these three weeks that I’ve been here did I see hide nor hair of either Slade or Jack, though I was suspicious (and pretty confident) that the latter might be kept in a place more inconspicuous. The Lumiere Corporation’s headquarters kept a tight security of those that went in and out, requiring a key card and a body scan through the doors. The body scan I’m not too worried about, but the key card...  

The couple walked into the garden, giggling and chuckling. I went on alert when I clearly saw who walked in. Katy Campbell and Shawn Duncan, two of the more senior personnel in the company.  

Katy looked up at the darkening clouds with a frown. “It looks like it’s about to rain.” She let out a surprised shriek when Shawn snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her close. 

“But we just only got on our break,” he grinned at her flushing cheeks.  

“Hey! We’re outside,” she chided him when his palm went a lot lower than her waist. “And it’s going to rain soon.” 

“No one can see us. Everyone’s too busy with the Chairman’s meeting. And it won’t rain yet.” Shawn pulled her closer to his chest and dipped his head to capture her lips in his, when a black silhouette crashed into the two of them.  

“What the fuck!” Shawn swore at the shadow as he pushed himself to a stand, pissed at being disturbed just as he was getting to the good part.  

“H-How did that thing get in here?” 

A growl rumbled from the dog’s throat and the couple jumped in fright. They paled at the bare fangs and hurriedly scrambled to their feet. In their distress, they failed to notice the black shadow that had been standing behind them, equally failing to note that the dog’s attention wasn’t on them all along.  

I tucked the key card away in my pocket and snarled at the dog, giving it only a silent apology for mistreating it. The poor canine yelped at the pair of crimson eyes gleaming in the dark and backpedalled in fear, crying inwardly at how victimised it was before running away. 

Dog: I’m innocent! I was thrown here by that man!  

I leapt away from my spot as lights flooded the garden and the couple from earlier returned with security. Grabbing onto the drain pipes, I swiftly scaled up the wall just as Katy cried out: “There was a dog in here!”  

The frantic shrieking and confusion gradually died down as I scaled higher and higher. Under the cover of the stormy clouds, I easily made my way to the rooftop undetected. Mentally, I brought up the blueprint designs of the building once I reached the top and quickly traced the path I had long prepared. With a quick swipe of the key card, I broke open the door leading to the roof and was immediately greeted with the long staircase spiralling down.  

After three long weeks of scouting and a hell lot more waiting, it was finally time to make my move. Even though it was partially thanks to Shawn for the extra information.  

Without batting an eyelid, I grabbed onto the railing and effortlessly swung myself over, allowing myself to begin the freefall down the sixty-storey building. Wind rushed past my face, bringing a stinging chill upon it. My expression remained unfazed at the possible death. The Chairman’s room was on the twentieth floor and with the meeting that they were having, most, if not all, of the board members were conveniently all in the same room.  

55... 

50... 

I counted down the floors as I free-fell, but upon gaining too much speed, I bent my knees and braced myself. Lightly tapping on the railings with my toes, I winced at the slight forceful change in the inertia shocking my nerves, but nevertheless bearable as the impact spread across my limbs and minimised the internal damage it could have done. I flexed my muscles, testing for any irreversible damages, but found none. For now, my body seemed to want to hold up. Once back on my toes, I tipped myself over the edge and fell once more.  

Time was clicking on the clock as I was sure by now that the surveillance team had noticed an anomaly, an intruder, in their midst.  

45... 

40... 

I slowed my descent again. 

When I approached the thirty first floor, the corresponding door was slammed open as a team of men rushed into the already narrow emergency escape stairway. Seeing the firearms in their possession, I pulled out my wakizashi, skilfully deflecting a few bullets back at them and tilted my body so that I landed on the railing.  

Clink! Clink! 

Easily hopping over the bullets, I dashed across the railing and brought my blade down towards the men, scoring first blood. Landing in a crouch, I sidestepped and palmed the knife-wielding arm away from inside, the blade spearing past my face. I brought my other hand up, the wakizashi firmly gripped within and pushed at the arm in the opposite direction. And I twisted.  

“Ahhh!”  

I smirked at the resounding, satisfying crack.  

The man dropped to his knees and cried out in pain at the breaking of his bones, while I ducked simultaneously, causing the punch to fly overhead.  

With muscles tensed, the strength in my calves exploded as I leapt up and spun around, landing a solid turning kick at my attacker and sending him barrelling towards the men behind him.  

And you’d think they’d know not to crowd a small space. 

With the small bubble that I created, I flipped my wakizashi around and darted forward, slicing at every man in the immediate vicinity. Crimson drops sprayed out of their necks like a broken fountain, splattering around the greyed white walls, painting an abstract art on the plain canvas.  

And everything only took roughly four minutes.  

When the last man was disposed, I pulled my arm back and held onto the railing before backflipping, and fell. Unlike before, I jumped off the edges, accelerating down the floors with ease and control now that there were only eleven floors left. On the way down, any enemy that appeared from the doors were met with my blade and shuriken instead, silently dropping dead by the same doors they opened.  

And it didn’t take long for me to reach the meeting room where all the higher ups were gathered. Disregarding the fact that it was too quiet, I charged right through the thick wooden doors with my katana as splinters bounded off my mask. I raised my blade in preparation to strike, yet all I saw was Slade’s smug smirk from the other end of the long room.  

They couldn’t have evacuated in less than ten minutes, could they?  

Irrespective of that, three shurikens flew with a flick of my wrist and I rushed forth with my blade back in its sheath, hand at ready on the hilt. A green halation began to pulse around the sword as I stirred the power lying dormant in my blood. Slade easily dodged the flying projectiles, but I was already near.  

“Ryūjin –” 

“No! Stop!” 

My body reflexively halted at the voice, so sweet and bewitching, yet so confusing. Distracted at the familiar voice, I failed to see the gun that Slade pulled out from behind, failed to catch the signs before I could move. All because I was wondering why, of all places, would I hear her voice here? Why would she be here? Until the grim realisation dawned that she wasn’t. That all I heard was a recording that sounded awfully close to her voice. 

That I should have protected myself against this tactic was a slight mistake on my part. Because why would Angela even be here at all?  

“Argh!” 

My body jerked when the bullet landed at close range, deeply lodging itself into my left shoulder. Growling at the infuriating smirk, I lunged forward with great difficulty while calling upon the dragon once more. The halation of my blade coloured the room with a green shine as it was unsheathed from its abode.  

“Ryūjin no ken wo kurae!” 

I couldn’t think. I didn’t want to think. And I sure as hell didn’t want to know why my blade felt the slightest of resistance as it sliced through Slade.  

I just wanted this done and over with.  

His maniacal cackles echoed in my ears even after my blade tore through his body in half. Wide amused eyes stared blankly up at me and I was further infuriated at the crescent shaped grin that split his face that I stabbed mercilessly at the skull with all the rage I could muster and flicked it aside. How dare he use her like that? How dare he get under my skin with the one reverse scale that I had?  

Steadying my emotions, I exhaled all my irritation. Now’s not the time for this.  

I scanned the room, a nagging feeling gnawing at my senses.  

Slade wouldn’t be here alone unless there was a damn good reason for it. And the missing board members were highly suspicious as well. Running through the blueprints in my head, I stared at the meeting room and roughly estimated its diameter.  

The dimensions did not match up.  

While the power was still channelling itself through my sword, I took a gamble and swung. The walls crumbled like tofu under my strength and instantaneously, I was assaulted with the smell of blood.  

 ~*~*~ 

 You have to understand that damaged women are the most dangerous kind.  

Not for any other reason but of already knowing they can survive.  

 She followed the smell of blood, a scent she couldn’t be more familiar with. Crimson liquid painted the walls and floors in the metallic tang of blood. Dead bodies littered atop each other like piles of thrown out rubbish.  

She continued making her way down.  

Judging from the rigor mortis and paleness of the bodies, they were dead only recently, which to her, meant that Genji had begun his mission not long before she arrived.  

Cladded in armor of blue and white, she hurriedly followed the trail, unperturbed by the sight of gore surrounding her. She came upon a pair of broken large doors. 

 Women are resilient. You may abuse them, break them, destroy them, but the strong ones will survive.  

And when they do, you will wish your mother gave you another pair of legs. 

 Rushing into the meeting room, the place was oddly clean except for the two halves of a man that was left on the carpeted floor, a hole pierced through his skull. Even she shuddered at the sight. Further down was a large gaping hole, a secret room. Cold air blasted at her face when she neared, and bringing with it the scent of warm fresh blood. Underneath the tips of her toes was a vibration she couldn’t pinpoint. Like the early signs of an earthquake.  

In a panic, she rushed headlong into danger.  

 ~*~*~ 

 “Damnit, Jack. Can’t you fucking move!” I snarled at the blond man in my arms, desperation clinging onto him and my words. A fog of mist temporarily hindered my vision as the hot breath chilled in the room. Jack had been beaten black and blue, bruised and battered like a punching bag, but even sandbags looked better than he did at the moment.  

“Urgh...” my ex-commander groaned as he tried to stand, but the broken limbs anchored him down heavier than the Earth’s gravity. “Just leave me. Why did you come and save me?” 

I’ll admit, my heart ached at the depressed tone of his voice. Lifeless. Hopeless. But damn him to hell if I was leaving without him! Bending down, I scooped the man up into my arms, disregarding the warts that were beginning to form on his face and skin, and pushed to a stand. Behind me was a large machine gurgling and violently shaking, the force enough to make even the ground quiver.  

I took a step forward, the ground splashing beneath it. Pools and pools of blood covered the place. The walls were made of metal and bolts, and the temperature was set well below zero degrees.  

I didn’t know why. And I don’t want to know why. 

When I had dashed into the secret room, I found the remaining board members surrounding Jack like coyotes, whipping and slicing at his skin in sheer madness. The gas masks they wore were indicators enough that this room was exactly the source.  

“W-Why are you even saving me... Just leave!” Jack groaned louder as I dragged his body with a limp across the dead bodies.  

My left leg was acting up once more, choosing the best time to malfunction as I couldn’t even bend it now. The bullet still lodged in my shoulder caused great pain when I moved my arm, but I had to hold on. I had to. 

“I can’t just leave you here!” I bit back harshly.  

Shrill screams were erupting from the machine behind us. Fuck, why was the secret room so long!  

“We’re not going to make it...”  

“Shut the fuck up. We’re going to leave here. Alive!” 

“N-No, Genji. Stop.” Jack gripped onto my arm with a hand. A last attempt. A last breath. “You deserve to know why I did what I did.” Jack cut me off with a stern look, one that I still reflexively clammed up patiently. “A little under six months ago, Angela had an accident in her apartment.” I knew that one. “I found her lying there on the floor and had her sent to the hospital. It was then that when she woke up from the short coma that she had forgotten her memories. It was painful, but I was also glad. Because I didn’t want her to suffer.” 

My eyebrows shot up in confusion. 

“You may not know this but she was ostracized while she was in the bureau.” Jack wheezed in a sharp breath as I fought to take another step forward. “Fellow colleagues were stabbing her in the back and dehumanising her.” 

“Why?” I bit out through gritted teeth. 

“Because of you.” I froze in place, pausing in my steps and turning my head slowly to stare at the half-dead man. He managed a bitter smile. “I didn’t want you to know because it’s not your fault. They spoke badly of her behind her back because she saved you, because she created a monster, quote unquote, like you.” He shook his head. “And when the two of you were seen together, it made everything worse. I tried to stop it. I tried to protect the two of you. But things kept getting out of hand. They simply refused to accept someone like you or her.”  

I watched, literally watched, as the life in his eyes dimmed. Blood began to flow from his orifices as warts began to break out faster on his skin.  

“And when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, she wanted to propose to you.”  

“Propose!?” 

That was the only word I could get out when the machine behind us exploded, blasting us through the air and across the room. I vaguely heard a scream, as though someone was calling my name, but I couldn’t tell with the ringing in my ears before Jack and I ate the blood on the ground.  

Everything was still for a while, when Jack’s lifeless voice floated over. 

“Part of me was selfish. When she lost her memory, I wished it stayed that way. Then at least I’ll have a chance of loving her too.” 

No, no, no. Stop talking. I’ll get us out of here.  

I felt his grip on me slacken as I tried to orientate myself right, but my head was still ringing and my back was burning. Probably from the poison. Maybe I shouldn’t have jammed the thing shut and cut off the supply.  

“Just leave, Genji. Go.” 

I got onto shaky feet and fought to stand upright on the quaking ground, one hand stubbornly clinging onto Jack’s sleeve and mustering all the willpower it took to not pass out from pain. “No. We’re leaving t-together.”  

Heavy pants. Screaming muscles.  

I pushed against the ground with my left foot, a little too much as I slipped and fell face first onto the blood puddle. I cried out in pain with a crack of my foot, bent back too much sideways, just like it was back in the hospital.  

No no no – We're not dying here. Noo! 

“And this whole mess? Started with me anyway,” Jack mumbled under his breath as he felt the darkness gradually closing in. The vibration was numb against his fingertips, the blood tasteless. “Slade was someone like you, a cyborg. Only thing was that he was incomplete. He wished he had someone like Angela to save him, but Overwatch turned him down when he asked for our help. He wouldn’t have started this whole crusade… I should have said yes... I should have said y-ye...s… ” 

I pushed up against the floor, gripping onto a motionless Jack with all my might. If only I was better, stronger, then I could get us both out of here. The ground began to shake even harder, the puddles rippling faster and more. Oh, Kami-sama. Please.  

 ~*~*~ 

 There is something about two people who find each other time and time again. No matter what situation they end up in, or how far apart they are – They come back to each other.  

 Genji... 

Genji... 

“Genji!” Angela screamed on top of her lungs when she spotted the man before her. In a swift glide towards him, she cradled his face in her arms, ignoring the blood that soaked the gloves. Dark crimson covered his scarred – beautiful – face, mixed with tears and snot. His eyes were glazed over until realisation rubbed at them.  

Angela. It was Angela Ziegler. Doctor Angela Zielger, fully decked out in her combat medic uniform.  

I lifted a shaky hand to gently caress her cheek, surprise and disbelief shocking my system. If this was a dream, then I never wanted to wake up.  

Oh, how I wish I could tell her how much I love her. That I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye. That I’m sorry I couldn’t spend the rest of my time with her.  

This was the end for me. And Jack.  

Oh, Angela... Please forgive me.  

 “There’s nothing to forgive, you idiot,” she cried out in desperation, but her hands were already moving faster than her words.  

She prayed she was also at least quicker than the explosion. The rumbles were getting stronger and a crack split the ground from where the machine was. The Caduceus Staff lit up with a warm yellow glow as the mechanical wings on her back unfurled. She could feel it rush through her blood, the same familiar power that she wielded all those months ago. At its peak, she felt the holy power surge like a rising tide, spreading out towards her wings and into her palms. 

A phrase, all so familiar yet foreign rolled off her tongue, as the power rushed towards the men in one swift gust. “Helden sterben nicht!” 

 Heroes never die!

 ~*~*~ 

 I suppose, you do remember that I would have married her if not for Jack Morrison, right?  

Without him hiding her away, keeping secrets, then yeah, I was supposed to get married to Angela Ziegler. Although I never knew we were dating, according to her, we already were. All those times we spent together eating dinner, drinking coffee, chatting by the window – Just us two? We had already been dating since the very first dinner I took her out (for constantly saving my life). We didn’t need to put a label on it. So, by technicality, we were already dating for years.  

Now I just feel dumb for wanting to ask her out. (She’d disagree, of course. Saying she found it cute.) 

Which she did, again, by the way. Saving my life. She single-handedly saved Jack and I from disaster, and single-handedly killed anyone that got in her way. The woman’s aim was pretty damn good, probably third to Ana and Jesse if I may say so. I heard from her later that she did find the mole, one of the few doctors that led the party against her. She found him on route to escape. Nevertheless, he wouldn’t be a mole for anyone else. Anymore.

In the end, I did kill Jack, if you think about it. If I was better, stronger, faster, and less entrenched in my preconceived views of him, I could have saved us both. And he would have wanted to live even more if I wasn't the cause of his heartbreak. 

But like she said, sometimes men did need saving, sometimes just by women.  

 “Does this mean you agree?”  

I looked up from the handmade book I gave Angela to quirk an eyebrow at said woman herself. “Agree with what? That men needed saving?” 

“That and if you’ll marry me.”  

I slowly blinked at her. She slowly blinked back. 

“If you’re worried about a ring, I do have one,” and she fished out the red velvet ring box that she had found in the box sitting in Jack’s office.  

My eyes widened in a pleasant surprise. No, no, I was not blushing. It was just a little warm, okay! “Aren’t I supposed to ask you out?”  

Angela innocently shrugged her shoulders as she leaned over the hospital bed. “You didn’t even take me out for dinner. I figured I should make a move first.” 

“But I didn’t know we were dating!” 

“So, that’s a yes.”  

“O-Of course, it’s a yes! Why would it be anything other than a – mmpfh!”  

 And of course, like all happy endings... we have the kiss.  

 Her fingers gently traced my jaws before sneaking around to my neck and pressing her lips against mine a little harder. It was only a momentary pause when I felt the sweetness upon mine, and I wholeheartedly responded when my brain booted up again, meshing my lips tightly against hers, fitting like two puzzle pieces. A bandaged hand curled around the back of her head, feeling the soft locks fall between my fingers as I deepened the kiss, this time taking the lead. Her hair had grown longer, much longer I realised, but it was nice. Still made her carry the charm of a beautiful and elegant mature woman. Her body melted against my touch as she matched my movements. My other hand worked its way to her waist, feeling every curve, every perfect line of her body while hers traced the muscles it could reach. 

We pulled apart when air was much needed, and I grinned proudly at the redness of her lips. I stared into her eyes, full of love and warmth, and couldn’t resist pulling her in again.  

 Remember the two people that somehow, constantly, keep finding each other no matter what?  

I believe that those are the people who have a little thing called ‘fate’ on their side.  

Such an enviable thing, hah, but it’s alright. 

Because dear readers, it’s almost as if the world is telling us: “Stop separating. You’re meant to be together.”  

[marmolady]

Broken Chains: On a Knife Edge

Book/Series: Endless Summer

Main Pairings: Estela x MC/Taylor (f)

Summary: Part 4: Post-ending (Endless ending). Devoid of the essence that gave her life, Taylor has been left fighting for survival. For Estela, the reality of what they’ve done is about to come crashing down.

Word Count: 7355

Warnings: Probably rated M to be safe, for language.

Previous Chapter/Next Chapter

AO3

Estela woke slowly from a drugged haze, and found herself lying in a bed, crisp sheets tightly surrounding her. Beginning to make sense of the world around her she blinked, taking in the medical room. In the bed next to hers… Taylor. Lying prone, broken, lost to her. The air felt to be sucked from Estela’s lungs, her heart in her throat. It all flooded back.

Oh god, she’s gone. She’s gone.

“Taylor…” she croaked. No… please, no….

As she clumsily lurched to get up, Estela was firmly pushed back into her pillow. Michelle stood over her, an expression of stern resolve on her face.

“Let me--” Estela protested, but even as she did, her body seemed to give out on her.

“Did you see what you did to your leg? You’re not going anywhere.” Michelle lurched forwards, wrapping Estela in a strong hug, feeling resistance at first, then a pull inwards. “She… she’s very weak,” she said. “No response to anything; her pulse is slow… her breathing… but she’s stable.”

Both women had tears in their eyes as they came apart. The lump in Estela’s throat wouldn’t shift; she couldn’t breathe. Neither could she bear to look away from the shell of her brave Taylor, laid out, helpless, on the next bed. Her mind took her back to the caverns beneath the volcano; the blinding light overwhelming her as she clung desperately to Taylor’s form as it grew limp in her arms, adrenalin pulsing through her as she fought off the raptor’s relentless assault. It was like a nightmare, and she couldn’t wake up. Agonised, she looked at Michelle questioningly. What had happened?

Michelle bit her lip. It had not been long ago that she’d been ready to drag Estela for putting everyone through such a scare, but now she could only feel a mixture of relief and pity. “She did it. We can go home. We have a home.”

Estela’s gaze fell back upon Taylor, hooked up with wires and tubes. She watched her laboured breathing. The woman she loved was all but destroyed. The world and everyone in it, saved, but the price was far too much to bear. If Taylor was gone… what did home mean anyway?

“Here,” Michelle said quietly, offering her hand. “I’ll help you over to the other bed.”

Unsteadily, held up by her friend, Estela hobbled to the next bed and carefully curled up against Taylor’s side. She nuzzled her face into the crook of her neck; it was oh so familiar, and yet all wrong. What have we done?

“Estela… I promise we’re doing everything we can for her. It’s just… this isn’t something we can read about and know what to do. Varyyn said that Vaanu left her with just a faint spark of life and the parts of her that are human. But she never was human… I don’t know if there’s enough left of her…”

Her eyes stinging, Estela squeezed them shut defiantly. She had force herself to believe that there was still some hope, that the Taylor she loved was still there, somewhere. But it felt like she was holding onto an empty shell. Even without looking, she could feel Michelle observing her, playing the doctor. “She’s strong,” she snapped. “There’s something there, and I’m not giving up on her. And you can quit looking at me like that. I’m fine.”

“I’ve given you some pretty heavy painkillers. But if I see you up on that leg, I will personally chain you to the bed. It took a lot of stitches and those godsend leaves, but with a solid treatment of antibiotics, it should heal.”

“Some good surgery experience for you,” Estela grumbled bitterly. “You’re welcome.” Her injured leg barely registered as a problem. It was probably a bad wound --she hadn’t yet had a good look at it-- but wounds healed. Taylor might not.

Estela stared out the window over Taylor’s shoulder, dazed. A light shower of rain made the sea appear misty. The world around her seemed to grow in clarity, but she could hardly take it in. As she became more aware, she could feel the throbbing in her leg, all the way down to her foot. But all that mattered was the woman lying next to her. With lethargic movements, she stroked Taylor’s cheek with a grazed and bandaged hand, pausing intermittently to wipe away her own tears.

After a long while, Estela felt awake enough to acknowledge Michelle again.  “Was this right? To let her use herself as a sacrifice? One life to save billions, I get it. But we were gonna survive this together. All of us.”

Michelle gingerly sat on the bed beside her. “It was Taylor’s choice. I think… as hard as it is… she did what she needed to do. You both did.”

It didn’t feel right. Not to Estela. How dare the world keep on turning, millions and millions of people continue their lives, oblivious to the fact that the person who’d saved them-- the bravest person she’d ever known-- lay battered and empty? Even the thought that her tio was out there gave small comfort. How could she return to him, continue her life as normal? How could he begin to understand everything that had happened? Estela knew she couldn’t phone. To say what? That she was waiting at her wife’s deathbed? No, she would wait. She’d ring him up, tell him that she couldn’t wait to introduce him to her beautiful soulmate, tell him that she’d be home soon, and that she was happier than she could remember. Taylor would return with her to San Trobida… she’d share with her the places and memories from her childhood… they’d stargaze, looking upon constellations that Taylor had never seen before… they’d plan a future, start a family. The painful lump in Estela’s throat finally gave way, and she cried and cried.

 __________________________

The island had dissolved into a state of confusion. In times of crisis, Taylor had always fallen effortlessly into a leadership role among the Catalysts, somehow managing to find balance between the often-clashing personalities of her friends. It had taken several hours for the news of all that had happened to spread; it was only when Quinn returned from Elyys’tel that the whereabouts of half the group was explained. The atmosphere was bizarre. There was ecstatic jubilation and relief, as though the loss of their home and everyone in it had been a nightmare they’d just awoken from. But then, there was no question of leaving. They were a unit, and they’d go home together or not at all. That the miracle had come at such a terrible price weighed heavy… the shock of being on the brink of losing one of their own felt so much more real than the resurrected world beyond. Already, there had been the bittersweet realisation that Kele, along with Yvonne and Malatesta, had returned to their own times. Quinn, having already been emotionally strained by long hours in the medical room, had been distraught, and she and Michelle had cried together until they finally drifted to sleep.

When the inevitable rescue boats came, they were directed them towards the remains of MASADA, where the hotel guests remained in hydrodynamic stasis, awaiting revival. All Vaanti had to distance themselves from the coastline or hunker down within their homes to avoid detection during this time. Ensuring everyone’s safety was a mammoth undertaking that left Varyyn torn between protecting his people and being there for his distraught husband. Many had been unwilling to leave Elyys’tel, wanting to keep vigil for not only one of the Catalysts of legend, but the person who allowed Vaanu to leave at long last. In the end, the village was like a ghost-town by the time the rest of the Catalysts reconvened there. The only visible sign of life was the sprawling wall of flowers, gifts, and messages that piled high at the front of the medical centre. Knowing what it represented, it was a sobering sight. Even desperate as they were for contact with home, and for some semblance of understanding over what had happened, when it came down to it, what mattered most to every single one of them was to be near to Taylor and Estela in their time of need.

Agreeing on an explanation for what had happened since their being cut off from the rest of the world for a year and a half ago was another challenge. At the centre of the shifts of timelines, La Huerta had been totally unreachable. Rescue boats that attempted to approach simply found themselves in empty sea where the island was supposed to be. Baffled scientists could not explain the phenomenon. Eventually, everyone had agreed to plead ignorance. All their methods of transport off La Huerta had been destroyed, and they’d simply tried to survive while avoiding Rourke and the Arachnid soldiers. Anything that had gone on beyond that… was a mystery.

Aleister had been quick to point out the potential dire consequences of the suspicious disappearance of his father, who remained a high-profile figure. That he’d fallen into a hole in space-time would hardly be believed. Certain that any amount of investigation into Estela would leave her appearing guilty as sin, he busied himself with collecting evidence of Rourke’s instability, the use of assassins and the Arachnid troops to apply lethal force, and the generally unstable condition of the island itself. The damning evidence he found for foul play on Arachnid’s part would also no doubt be of great use in securing Jake’s freedom and letting Mike be remembered as the hero that he was. For safety’s sake, evidence of Olivia Montoya’s murder was destroyed. With Zahra’s hacking wizardry, there was soon no sign on any system that there ever had been a Dr. Montoya working for Rourke International. Aleister suspected he’d have hell to pay when Estela got wind of it, but he was by no means going let her take the fall. The ‘official’ story they’d relay to the Costa Rican authorities was that Rourke had been knocked into the lava flow during an attempt on the Catalysts’ lives. For Aleister, it was easier to focus on the logistics side of things rather than to queue up for what would undoubtedly be an awkward visit to the hospital bedsides. He didn’t imagine there was anything he could say to bring Estela comfort, so he cared for her in the only way he knew how-- at a safe distance.

  __________________________

“Taylor… it’s me. I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’m right here. I’m right here, baby. Please… please just give me something, just a little movement to tell me you’re still with me. Taylor? Please. I’m… scared. I don’t know what I’m gonna do if you can’t come back to me. Taylor…”

There was no response, just cold, lonely silence. Tears in her eyes, Estela pressed a kiss to her wife’s forehead. “It’s okay… you can take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

There was a creak as the door opened, and she instinctively bristled. As much as she appreciated that their friends wanted to be near, she just wanted to be left alone… to feel close to Taylor… to even begin to wrap her head around all that had happened.

“You mind if I sit with her?” Diego asked hesitantly.

Estela didn’t look around. If anyone could understand how much she was hurting, it would be Diego. At any rate, Taylor would have wanted him there. If Estela was her soulmate, Diego was the next closest thing. “Go ahead.”

Diego moved the chair around to Taylor’s side of the bed and sat down. It was hard to look at her, and within minutes, his eyes began welling up. “I, uh, asked Varyyn to try and reach her with his mind.” He heaved a painful sigh. “Nothing. He couldn’t find a trace of her.”

The words hit Estela like a kick in the guts. If Varyyn couldn’t make contact telepathically, it seemed impossible that Taylor could hear her pleas for her to wake up. For a long while, the two friends held vigil in silence, which Estela eventually broke, needing to ensure Diego understood why… even while she didn’t herself.

“She didn’t want to put you through this… she hated it,” she said quietly. “There just wasn’t another way to put things right.”

“You should’ve stopped her…” The words tumbled out before Diego could help himself. He glanced worriedly to Estela.

Estela said nothing, wondering if he was right. Staring past Diego to the sea beyond the window, she let herself escape back to a happier time. She could hear Taylor’s laughter ringing in her mind as she playfully ran and splashed through the shallows. But Taylor could not have remained happy knowing that she could heal her friends’ hurt. Could Estela have convinced her to stay? Perhaps, but it would only have brought suffering. Estela had suffered before; she’d try to survive it again if it meant sparing Taylor that burden. Besides, Taylor had stood by her when she’d been walking her own trail to self-destruction, never wavering, offering advice but never pushing. She’d owed her the same faith and trust. Now oblivious to Diego’s presence, Estela snuggled closer and lovingly brushed Taylor’s cheek with the backs of her fingers.

Diego watched the show of affection as the tears kept coming. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” Tentatively, he reached out to put his hand on Taylor’s, while trying to gage Estela’s response to what might be perceived as an intrusion. She glanced back to him, her expression soft, before focusing her attention back to her wife. “I should thank you for taking care of her all this time. I wish I could have been there for her, but she had you. It would have meant everything.”

Estela gave a small, appreciative nod, but remained quiet. Totally drained, trying to engage was simply too much. Diego was prone to bouts of verbal diarrhea, but for now, shell-shocked by the condition of his best friend, he seemed able to take the hint.

Together they continued a silent vigil. Exhaustion getting the better of him, Diego eventually fell asleep draped over Taylor’s weakly rising and falling chest. Estela, however, would not allow herself to close her eyes for fear of any change. Settling in for the long haul, she put an arm around Diego’s slumbering form and buried her face in Taylor’s silky blonde hair. She would keep her safe.

 ___________________________

Night fell, with no change in Taylor’s condition. By this point, she’d received visits from the whole gang at one time or another, though these were kept brief for Estela’s benefit, and the collection of flowers by her bedside was already growing steadily as a result. Only Diego, Michelle and Quinn, who had been there from the beginning, were around for extended periods.

“Hey,” Zahra said dryly as she pushed the door open.

Estela ignored her for several long moments before finally acknowledging that she had company. “I’m guessing you’re on the night-shift,” she stated.

“Insomnia’s got it’s uses.” Zahra wandered over cautiously, then reached out to ruffle Taylor’s hair. “Still holding out on us, Tayls? And I thought I was the uncooperative asshole.”

Estela twitched, fighting with the urge to swat the newcomer away. She really was not in the mood.

“So, uh,” Zahra broached, “you think she can hear us?”

No response. Zahra sat down on the other bed, crossing her legs. She was already regretting that she’d signed up for this. It looked as though she could look forward to long hours of uncomfortable silence. What was she supposed to say to Estela? Nice was not her forte. She sighed heavily as her eyes rested on the two women in the bed beside hers. Taylor was so still, and Estela looked… afraid. Zahra didn’t think she’d ever seen her look scared, not like that. It was kind of unnerving.

“Hey, Estela… you can sleep, okay? I couldn’t even if I wanted to. You can trust me. You know Meech is gonna flip her shit if you don’t rest. If anything changes at all, I’ll wake you.”

Estela rolled over just a little, glancing towards Zahra. There was something like kindness in Zahra’s expression. Someone was way out of her depth. “If I fall asleep, I fall asleep. But I don’t see it happening. I want to know if anything changes.”

“I get it. But at least you don’t have to force yourself to stay awake.”

“Thanks,” Estela spoke softly, her voice a little muffled as she buried her face in Taylor’s hair. “Sweet dreams, Taylor,” she whispered. With a small kiss, she closed her eyes but fought to remain focused on the sound and feel of her wife’s breathing. Her whole body felt heavy; she’d not slept since their anniversary night… it felt a lifetime ago now. But she was so tired… so very, very tired…

Estela leapt awake in the split second that a high-pitched beeping began to sound. “Taylor!” Before she had a chance to properly come to, she took Taylor in her arms, feeling immediately what the alarm had told her; that she’d once again stopped breathing. “Get Michelle- now!” she cried, and desperately began compressions. Come on… come on…

Michelle burst back into the room as Estela was doing mouth-to-mouth. She watched intently, but gave her space, ready to jump in if needed. The monitor’s reading picked up, and she realised that she’d been holding her own breath as she watched for Taylor’s.

“Let me take a look…”

“I can feel her pulse” Estela panted, stepping aside just enough to let Michelle in. Her heart felt like it was going to beat right out of her chest.

“She’s breathing,” Michelle said with a nod. “You did great; you acted fast.” She was impressed, but not really surprised. Estela could always be relied upon to be level-headed and capable in a crisis. Her eyes, though, were filled with panic. Michelle reached out and drew her into her arms. “Deep breaths….”

Estela pulled away angrily. “I’m fine.” She couldn’t sleep now. Trembling, she lay down on the bed, pressing her body protectively against Taylor’s. She stroked away the blonde hair from her face and kissed her cheek. That had been so close. So close. She’d felt Taylor dead beneath her hands, beneath her lips. It could happen again at any second. She whispered lovingly against her ear. “Don’t scare me like that…”

“Look,” said Michelle, “I’m gonna sleep in the other bed. If it happens again, I’ll be on it in a second. But you need to rest.”

“I’m in bed, aren’t I?”

Michelle huffed. “Don’t fight me. We don’t know how long she’s going to be in this condition. If we have a crisis, Taylor will be a lot better off if you’re not a sleep-deprived wreck.” She thought she caught a growl. “You know I’m right.”

Knowing was one thing, but that didn’t make it easy. Waking suddenly to find Taylor slipping away… even for Estela to close her eyes felt impossible after that. Letting her guard down had almost killed Taylor; she’d failed her. How could she ever sleep again? Next time, she might be lost for good. She breathed in the scent of Taylor’s hair, and felt overwhelmed with love. But love became fear.

“Estela, close your eyes. I need you to trust me.”

Something in those words stirred the stricken Estela. She trusted Michelle with her life. But Taylor’s life meant so much more.

“Estela! Do as you’re told, for once in your life!”

Zahra couldn’t hold back a snicker. “There’s no way in hell you’d be that brave if she didn’t have a banged-up leg…”

“Shut up, Zahra! Estela, please. I swear I’ll take care of her… but she needs you to be taken care of too. Please. Close your eyes.”

Scowling, but knowing in her heart of hearts that her friend was right, Estela obliged. There was nothing for it but to tell herself that her wife was in safe hands. She tried to imagine that this was just any other night. Taylor was just sleeping in her arms, safe and content. She made a little grumbling sound but relented. “I trust you.”

A couple of hours later, a bored Zahra sat herself on the bed beside Taylor. Estela had reluctantly dropped off to sleep a little while after Michelle, leaving Zahra with the responsibility of keeping Taylor safe solely on her shoulders. As she looked over her friend, her heart felt heavy. All those months ago, she’d wanted to go home-- she hadn’t wanted it at the expense of a good person, someone who she cared about. If any of them had known, they’d have tried to talk Taylor out of it… though of course that would have been why the idiot kept the plan a secret for so long.

Estela blinked awake, and protectively clutched Taylor closer to her chest. She was just so tired, but she was too alert, too anxious to settle.

At the sight of Estela stirring, Zahra moved back, defensive. She scowled instinctively, preparing to be slapped away, but her expression quickly softened. “I… didn’t mean to disturb you.” While the other woman appeared tense, a frown etched onto her face, she seemed accepting of the company. “It’s just weird, you know… it’s been a day or so, but I miss her. She seems far away. Everything that’s going on, she’d be in the middle of it fixing everyone’s stupid problems. Damn Taylor, always the one to hold us all together; without her everything feels… different. I can’t even explain it.”

Estela’s body relaxed a little, and she sat up, intently staring at her companion.

“Good to see you’ve still got your serial killer stare on top form.”

Embarrassed, Estela averted her gaze. “You almost sounded nice for a moment there.”

Zahra sat back on the end of the bed and crossed her legs. “It’s not as if anyone else can hear. Besides, it’s gonna be a long night if I’m just sitting here in silence watching you sulk.” She paused, self-conscious. “I don’t go around caring about a lot of people. You and Taylor… you matter to me. To be honest, I’m pissed. This whole sacrifice thing is bullshit. Maybe the best person I’ve ever known, and she’s basically been forced to kill herself. It’s seriously screwed up.”

“You’re not wrong.” Estela sighed heavily, flashes of memory whirling through her head. Taylor had been so, so brave; but she never should have had to be. “She did it for you. All of you. Which kinda makes it worse; someone who cares that much shouldn’t be taken away. If she’s gone, I… I don’t know where I go from here….”

For a long while, Zahra said nothing. Probably, she imagined, this might be where two less emotionally repressed people might hug it out. A silent battle raged in her head, before finally, hesitantly, she crawled forward. “C’mere,” she mumbled, avoiding eye contact, while drawing Estela towards her. Strong arms grasped hold of her, the grip painful. She patted her roughly on the back. “For someone so smart, you can be a real dumbass. Whatever happens, we’ve got you, all right? And that’s coming from me.”

Estela slumped against Zahra, taking deep breaths. Everything might fall apart at any moment, but at least she was not alone. Again, it was all because of Taylor. Had it not been for Taylor’s open heart, she couldn’t imagine having the courage to build the bonds she now relied on, to love her friends so deeply. She came away, offering Zahra just a nod of understanding.

With a glance over to Michelle, Zahra moved to get up. “Look, it’s pretty obvious you’re not sleeping anytime soon. Meech looks dead to the world-- I could sneak you a coffee. Or something stronger.” A mischievous grin flitted across her face.

“I could really use a rum right now… but I’ve gotta stay alert. You know… just in case.”

“Eh, another time. One caffeine hit coming right up….”

A little while later, she returned with two steaming mugs.

“Colombian, just for you. If you could down it before the doc wakes up and puts my head on a pike, I’d appreciate it.”

“She’d have to go through me first.”

“Aaayyyy, there’s that scary bitch I love!” Zahra sat on the foot of the bed and leaned in to chink her mug to Estela’s. She almost, almost caught the shadow of a smile. “Here’s to getting through; one long, night of hell at a time.”

Estela looked sadly at Taylor, lying still beside her. “One night at a time…” she murmured.

 ______________________________

  The next day brought more of the same; a steady stream of visitors to Taylor’s bedside, while arrangements were made to deal with the broader aftermath of the Catalysts’ time on La Huerta. Estela feigned sleep for most of the day, not having the energy to socialise with well-meaning friends. The occasional dumbass comment from the likes of Craig brought her close to sitting up and chasing them off, but it simply took too much effort. She just lay there quietly as they talked to Taylor, offering their heartfelt thanks and expressing their care and concern. Even as she lay unconscious and broken, Taylor seemed to be the go-to listening ear. Completely drained, Estela would have preferred everyone would just back off. They had their families back- they should leave her with what time she had left with her family. The love and care they showed was deeply appreciated, but she was just so tired. Raj, at least, had come bearing a piled-up plate of patacones with an array of toppings. Somewhat suspiciously as far as Michelle was concerned, Estela had been wide awake for his visit. Still, she reasoned, at least her patient was eating, even if she point-blank refused to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time. Small victories….

The woman who’d saved the world kept herself at the centre of everyone’s attention, firstly when she caused another scare --the fifth by Estela’s count-- and secondly as a result of her inconvenient official non-existence. Every room she’d stayed in at the Celestial was being methodically ransacked with the hope of recovering a passport. Vaanu had conjured her luggage, so the hope was that somewhere, some hind of official documentation would exist. Zahra was confident that she could get into a government computer and put something together, but there was the unfortunate hurdle being that Taylor was not awake to have a passport photo taken. Quietly, Diego was not averse to the idea of his best friend remaining with him and Varyyn on La Huerta, but he cared for her freedom of choice, and diligently led the search team. After almost giving up, he did a go-over of Taylor and Estela’s hut, and found a shiny new passport beneath a pillow, belonging to one ‘Taylor Montoya’. He gave a happy cry; the name on the document told him that it couldn’t have been created on the plane journey to the island… Vaanu must have had some hope that she’d survive her sacrifice if they’d left a ticket home as a parting gift.

With a wonderful new sense of optimism, he hurried to Elyys’tel to share the discovery with Estela.

For most of the day, Estela had been despondent. Taylor was existing on a knife edge, and she couldn’t bear it. Hearing her friends relaying conversations they’d had with their loved ones, unable to hide their excitement, it made her heart ache for Taylor. She’d done that. She’d literally given them the world. But a what the hell was the point of a world if Taylor wasn’t in it? While her friends were taking their lives back, Estela could literally feel hers slipping away. When Diego handed her the passport, it was like salt being poured in the wound. ‘Taylor Montoya’? They’d never had a chance to be a family together. What did they need a passport for anyway? Taylor wasn’t going anywhere. She was so damn weak that a stiff wind would probably finish her off, if she didn’t simply stop breathing one time too many.

“Estela?”

She pushed the passport back into Diego’s hand. “Uh, thanks.”

“You don’t get it-- this wouldn’t have your name on it if Taylor had it the whole time. Vaanu must have given her this when she gave their essence back… she’s meant to come home!”

Estela’s expression was stony. His positivity was that of someone who hadn’t sat awake for most of the night ready for the next close call. He didn’t --couldn’t-- understand.

Getting the hint, Diego left, giving one last kiss to Taylor’s forehead. He edged past Jake, who was hovering in the doorway, having pointedly not taken the hint.

“What’s with the face, Katniss? You’re gonna scare off all your girl’s visitors.”

“If only.”

“Look, it’s been a rough ride, but you two always come up fighting. I’ve got the bruises to prove it. She’s got this.”

Estela growled. “So, we’ve got another doctor? You? It’s pretty clear Taylor’s not going home. If you can’t offer anything that actually helps, just leave us alone.”

“Wait, you’re serious? You’ve actually given up…?”

Her eyes closed, Estela’s mind flashed with the traumatic memory of Taylor writhing in agony as the light overtook her. “We can’t do anything….”

“This sure as hell ain’t you. Since when do you give up on anything? And this is Princess…”

Turning on a hair, Estela suddenly snapped, throwing a mug that narrowly missed Jake’s head, smashing instead against the wall. “Get out!”

“Woah-- wha--?”

“Get out right now, or I will come over there and make you get out!”

Jake recoiled, startled. “Easy, Katniss… I didn’t mean…”

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Do you have any idea what this has been like? Feeling her stop breathing again, and again… how many more times? Am I supposed to be pushed to the brink over and over, and act like it’s okay? Just get the fuck outta my face, asshole.”

Michelle burst into the room, having heard shouting. “What’s--?”

Singed by the glare that bore into him from the bed, Jake slipped towards the door. “I’m leaving… I….” He paused. There was nothing he could say that wouldn’t simply add fuel to the fire, however pure his intentions. He dared meet Estela’s eyes, seeing only fury, but hoping that she’d still feel a friend looking back. With a silent nod, he moved past Michelle and left.

“Estela….”

Her face buried in her hands and shoulders heaving, Estela shook her head. “Just go. I need to be alone.”

  __________________________

For the next day or so, everyone kept their distance, with no one visiting except when trying to convince Estela to sleep properly. By the time a generously paid doctor made a house call from the mainland, Taylor had survived yet another brief heart-stopping moment, but the professional opinion was to simply keep on doing what was being done. Michelle was pleased with the progress that had been made. Taylor remained fragile, there was no doubt about that, but her pulse and breathing rate had generally improved considerably. If anything, the immediate concern was more for Estela, who seemed to be retreating deeper into herself.

“Hey, Estela,” Diego, on night duty, slumped into the chair, exhausted. He’d nervously kept clear for a little while, but he couldn’t stay away from his stricken friend for long. Such was the nature of his relationship with Taylor, that Estela was far more tolerant of him hanging around her than she was anyone else-- except for when Raj brought food. “Taylor’s not been getting up to trouble since I’ve been gone?”

“Still the same,” Estela murmured. She edged over and gently moved Taylor with her, leaving a space on the bed. “You can sit with her if you like.”

That was new. With an appreciative smile, Diego joined them. There was barely enough room, but it felt wonderful to properly get his arms around his dearest friend. Beside them, Estela closed her eyes with a sigh.

“You know, she looks better,” he said. “It’s probably hard to see when you’re stuck to her like glue twenty-four-seven, but she doesn’t look like she needs to fight so hard.”

“Michelle said that. Part of me thinks she’s just trying to trick me into letting my guard down.” Estela had been so reluctant to believe it, fearful of getting her hopes up after so many close calls.

Diego looked over her with concern in his eyes. She looked a wreck, her eyes outlined with dark rings, her hair unkempt. It was hardly a surprise. From the small pieces of information he’d managed to extract, Taylor’s sacrifice had been planned many months ago. Estela had kept it together for an awfully long time, no doubt to make it easier on her partner. Sooner or later, it had to catch up with her.

“How’s your leg?”

“Fine.”

“Did you get any sleep last night?”

Estela just shrugged her shoulders. For a long time, they sat in silence, Diego wondering how he could break through the barriers that only seemed to be getting higher.

“It must be weird… everyone talking to people back home. All happy, excited. I mean, they care about Taylor, they love her, but there’s that nice bit of comfort to take the edge off.”

Finally stirred, Estela opened her eyes and sat up a little. “I’m happy for them. But… it feels so far away. Not important. I can’t even call my tio while she’s like this.” She paused, considering Diego quietly. “You… haven’t called home?”

He shook his head sadly. “It’s stupid, right? Spend all this time crying over losing my family, but they get resurrected and --whoosh-- back to rejection city. I’m happy they’re okay… I just don’t think I can handle them right now.”

“I’m sorry.”

Diego sighed. “Don’t be… it’s been long enough, I know how it is.”

“Bet you could really use your best friend right now. She’d know what to say.”

“Yeah, but at least I can give her a hug. I really believe she’s gonna wake up. I mean, she’s come this far.” He gave a dry laugh. “I just wish she’d do us all a favour and get on with it… but I’m pretty sure if she was here, she’d tell you to stop being so freaking stubborn and get some sleep.”

Estela rolled her eyes. “Maybe.” She looked over at Diego, her brow furrowed. “What’s wrong with your parents? Is it just… uh… the whole gay thing?”

“Eh, mostly. But even before I came out, I was never what they wanted. ‘Wasting my life away on childish nonsense’, ‘out of touch with the real world’, all of that. When they found out I liked guys, I guess that was just one massive disappointment too many.” Self-conscious, his cheeks flushed, and he awkwardly looked away. It suddenly occurred to him that he’d very rarely had one-on-one conversations with Estela-- aside from when they’d speak Spanish together for the sole purpose of teasing Taylor who was very far from bilingual. He’d certainly never delved into anything sensitive.

“I don’t get it,” Estela said. “Maybe I’ve spent too long here, where no one gives a damn, but it just seems so tiny a reason to turn on someone you love. You don’t deserve that. You’re a good person, one of the best.”

“Thanks,” said Diego with a weak smile. “See, you’re not all that bad at the best friend pep talk. I could hire you as a short-term fill-in.”

“No.”

He laughed. “You didn’t… know… you know, before Taylor?” he ventured. “That you liked girls? No one in your family would have known?”

As if by reflex, Estela held Taylor a little closer. “I didn’t have feelings like that for anyone. There wasn’t room in my life for that. I mean, there still wasn’t room when Taylor came along, but for her… it didn’t matter anymore. She was just… special, I guess. I don’t even know what Tio Nicolas would think. He has strong opinions about things.”

“Like you.”

“Almost. He still can’t beat me in an argument. But I think he would be okay. He’s seen a lot of war, and hate, people dying. When you’ve got that perspective, it doesn’t make any sense to get riled up over someone loving another person.”

Diego was thoughtful for a moment. “Huh. Maybe if San Trobida has another civil war, you should enlist my parents.”

In spite of herself, Estela chuckled. “If they fight like you? Not a chance in hell.” With a glance to Taylor’s still face, she caught herself and sighed. Was she improving? Afraid to hope, she struggled to see it. But Diego did. It was clear in his face. Once in despair, he now looked at Taylor as if there was something left in her. There had to be. What the alternative was, Estela couldn’t bear to fathom.

“Hey…” Diego said gently, nudging Estela’s shoulder, “she’d want you to take care of yourself. She’s been stable for more than a day now; I think the worst is over. Go take a shower, put on some fresh clothes, and actually get some rest. You’ll feel better, and maybe you won’t feel the need to throw projectiles at visitors anymore. Otherwise, poor Taylor’s gonna wake up to a miserable, stinky zombie in her bed, and I’ll have to go through the trouble of getting you two together all over again.”

Estela gave him a filthy look. She hesitated, but then gingerly got out of bed. “You won’t leave her…”

“Not a chance.” As she limped out the door, Diego thought to himself, I absolutely cannot believe that worked.

 _____________________________

It was some twelve hours later when Estela finally awoke, properly rested after several days of what she was pretty sure amounted to torture. Taylor was fine. No scares. It was clearly not over, not by a long shot, but the hope she felt was no longer false-- simple, angry defiance… it was real. Just maybe, Taylor might be strong enough to come back to her. Even as she thought it, though, she held herself back. You can’t drop your guard. She could be gone at any moment.

There were footsteps outside the door, then a voice. “Knock, knock?”

Estela felt heat rising behind her ears. Jake. This could be awkward. “You can come in,” she grumbled.

“No weapons on hand?” When he received no response, Jake entered the room. “It’s been a while… thought I’d better check in.” He looked her over cautiously, trying to read Estela’s mood. It would be so much easier if she didn’t have a near-permanent frown. He approached the bed, uncomfortably avoiding eye contact. “Look, I…”

“Wait! I uh… I…” She gave a little huff, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. It was never about you. I just couldn’t hold the anger back anymore.”

“Hey, I know that. I’m sorry for the most spectacularly flubbed pep talk in recent history. Honestly, Katniss, after everything you’ve been dealt, I reckon you’re entitled to a dummy spit. We’re just lucky it was me; if you’d unleashed that on Brainstrust, she’d still be cryin’ now.”

“Grace wouldn’t be stupid enough to go around pushing my buttons. But it… means a lot, you know, that you understand.” Estela’s shoulders slumped. It all seemed to catch up with her all at once. The weight of her sadness, and that gut-churning fear. “It didn’t make me feel any better. This isn’t your fault… it’s not anyone’s fault. There’s no one to hunt down, to punish for this.”

“Ya know, I don’t think she’d want that for you anyway.”

“No. She wouldn’t. But I don’t know what to do.” Estela looked into Jake’s face searchingly.

“Look, I… I don’t have the answers for ya. But I’m not goin’ anywhere. We can talk, get a back and forth goin’. Sooner or later, our Princess’ll have to wake up just to tell me to shut my smartass mouth.”

Estela gave a rare smile, even as she rolled her eyes. “Cabron…” And then, seemingly out of nowhere, the tears came, fast and uncontrollable.

For a moment, Jake froze, but then he sat beside her and rubbed her back as she dissolved into sobs. “’S all right. But please don’t tell her I made you cry…”

Estela laughed through her tears but couldn’t keep them from coming. So much had been bottled up for too long. After an age, the tears slowed, and she was left hiccoughing into her friend’s shoulder.

“Feel better?”

“Maybe… a little. I’m just… sorry I lost my shit with you. This has just been…” She shuddered.

“Water under the bridge. But, if you wanna talk…? The usual host of sharin’ circle can’t be with us, but I’ll try and keep the sarcastic comments to a minimum.”

Estela nodded, but for a long while remained quiet. Some things she didn’t talk about, not to anyone. Not to anyone except for Taylor. But, she told herself, Taylor was right there with her. She grasped her wife’s soft hands gently.

“This… isn’t easy….”

“Ya don’t have to--“

“No, I… I do.” She took a deep breath. “So… uh…just before I got the letter saying my mother had died, she wrote to me, begging for help. She knew her life was in danger, that she was running out of time. Tio Nicolas and I did everything we could, but there was no getting anyone in or out of La Huerta without going through Rourke. I’d been trained all my life to take care of myself, but the only person I wanted to protect was so far away, and scared… and I couldn’t reach her. This… feels the same. I’m helpless, Jake. I can see Taylor right there in front of me, but she might as well be miles away. And the whole damn time I know that any second she could be ripped away from me forever, like Mom was. I can’t stand it.”

Jake rubbed her shoulder pacifyingly. “I think I’m getting why you took my head off…”

“Touchy area, yeah. For so long I wasn’t scared of anything, I figured I had nothing to lose. But then I found Taylor. And now…”

“… now you’re basically re-living your worst nightmare come true.”

Estela bit her lip, holding back from crying, and nodded. “It must have been like this for you… with Mike. I’m sorry. I just… miss her.”

For a few moments, Jake was quiet, forced into reflection. He certainly did know that feeling; having survived what should have been the worst trauma of his life, only to go through it all over again. Meeting Estela’s eyes, he felt the understanding that flowed between him and her. “Hug it out?”

Comforting as the embrace of a good friend was, it was hard for Estela not to yearn for Taylor even more. No one could hold her the way she used to. Taylor could put her arms around her and somehow ease every pain in her heart. The only other person who had that healing touch upon Estela had been her mother. But Jake… he cared, and it meant a lot.

“She’s comin’ through this, all right? It’s just a damn shame she’s deaf to your snoring… anyone else would’ve woken up by now and smothered you with a pillow.”

“I don’t-“

Jake snorted. “Got it, got it. My mistake. I’m obviously confusing you with some other freight train.”

Estela smiled appreciatively and held tighter. “I’m not giving up. I might lose my mind, but it doesn’t matter how long it takes. I won’t leave her.”

“So, we’ll keep talkin’ to her. She’ll hear. I mean, this is our Princess. Listening to everyone offload their shit on her is pretty much her thing.”

“I hope you’re right.” Estela said softly. She leaned back over to her wife and lovingly stroked a strand of hair from her face before kissing her brow. “You’ll come back to us, Taylor. There are a lot of people missing you right now. I miss you. I miss you every goddamn minute of every day.”

Jake reached his hand out to take Taylor’s. “We’re not leaving you in peace, so you’d better get used to the idea. Sort yourself out, Princess. You might have brought the world back, but there’s no way in hell we’re leavin’ crazy island without you.”

[augustheart]

cindy has an almost unnoticeable limp that favors her left leg because she broke it when she was eighteen and it didn’t really heal right (she won’t tell the story of how she broke it, but that’s okay). it hurts a lot in the mornings, especially her ankle, but she’s learned not to complain about it. there’s three matching diagonal scars going down her back that came from the claws of some of the megafauna genetically manufactured for entertainment on earth-16. her ring finger and middle finger on her right hand are crooked and have little fine motor control from repeat breaking and she’s missing two teeth. her eyes have little spikes of red coming out of the pupil and bleeding into the iris, but their actual placement and configuration changes often.

cisco gets chronic headaches, so he always has at least one bottle of pain pills on him at all times. he also carries tissues in his pocket to stop the random nosebleeds and ear bleeding he gets. there’s a scar on his collarbone from falling on a piece of glass when he was little, and another scar on his shin from falling out of a tree (he fell a lot when he was little). both of his ears are pierced but he doesn’t own any earrings outside of one pair that he occasionally uses to stop the holes from closing up. his handwriting is messy and it looks different than it did before he was killed in the alternate timeline by wells, but he has no idea why. sometimes it almost looks like there’s a reflection of the earth in his eyes.

[jwnchstr]

UNDYING LOVE

SUMMARY: You were beatfriends with Dean and he has a feeling towards you, but didn’t tell you until when you were dead.

WORD COUNT: 1399

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I was at work when I realised that I needed to improve my romance-writing so I decided to look for romance prompts on Google. I saw a lot of course. Saved a lot of them as well, but I decided to do this one tonight. I hope you enjoyed. And happy first November :)

DATE: 01112017

“Be careful, (Y/N),” Dean warned you softly as he wrapped his arm around your waist and the other holding your hand you wrapped around his shoulders, “you don’t want to hurt yourself.”

Hopping with Dean as your support beside you, you replied, “Yeah, I’m already hurt.”

“...at least, do it slowly. Y-you don’t -- whatever.” Dean groaned silently as while rolling his eyes at himself. Showing you that he cared about you was easy, but not telling you. He felt as if his weakness was being projecting if he said something cheesy. “Let’s just hurry. We don’t want to let them see us.”

Your stomach clenched; your lungs contracted most of the times due to you enduring the pain on your calf. There weren’t scratches, which makes it bad because you broke your leg while chasing shapeshifters in the forest. It was dark and very puzzly like a maze, you didn’t know why you agreed to join Dean on this hunt.

"Told you you shouldn’t call me,” you started to complain. “Look what happen to me and now you need to carry me back to your car.”

“Accidents happen, (y/n), you can’t blame it.”

You scoffed hearing Dean saying that. He sounded like he was defending you while he knew him well that he didn’t like when things didn’t go as planned especially a clumsy girl like you. You were chasing the shapeshifter because it was you who had to kill him according to the plan, and because of your clumsiness the shapeshifter was alive and free.

You didn’t know Sam this time around because this was the time when Sam went to Stanford and Dean, living with his father, was out hunting alone, but if it was Sam who let the shapeshifter free, Dean would nag to him.

“Still my fault, though,” you said, “I was -- DEAN!”

Your sentence was cut off by a person who grabbed Dean’s shoulder and threw him away from you with one hand -- like, literally one hand -- causing you to stumble before falling to the ground with a loud thud because you didn’t prepare for it especially with your leg like that. It hurt more than the period pain. You groaned, clutching your leg with your leg as if your touch could heal the pain like a Healer.

On the ground, while you crying in pain, praying for Dean, hoping he was okay, you saw a shadow towering you. Momentarily, the pain subsided because your mind was somewhere else. With the eyes of non-human, with fangs of a wild animal, he stared you down. He looked angry rather than hungry. He was the one you chased a few minutes ago.

“D-Dean...” you called your best friend. You voice croaked and low. You felt like there was a lump stuck in your throat. “Dean!”

Dean took his time to regain his energy. The throw was powerful, very inhuman like. Of course, he was a shapeshifter. A werewolf, to be exact. And a throw like that only means either that he was in one of the three highest ranks or a warrior, because no one trains hard like a warrior does.

He heard your chilling voice calling out his name, and that what woke him up from a short pass-out. He was sure that his ribs were broken, but he didn’t care. He got up anyway, to save you from the monster who threw him away from you. With a deep groan and hardships, he pushed himself up to his feet.

“(Y/N)!”

His eyes were blurry as he ran towards you like a drunk man. His head was still dizzy from the knockout and the short pass-out. His ribs causing him hard to breathe normally. His shoulders hurt like a motherfucker. He kept on screaming your name like his scream would scare away the werewolf.

However, he didn’t scare the werewolf at all. He made the werewolf even more enthusiastic. The snarl and the visible smirk coming from the snout making Dean’s in rage with fire.

“Stop! Stop! Let her go!” he screamed. “Let her go!” he repeated the same word again and again as he ran towards you who was in the hands of the werewolf. You were scared, and you showed Dean that you were scared, but before he could come to rescue you, the werewolf bit your shoulders. It was the deathly bite. And with that one single deadly bite, you fell limp onto the ground and the werewolf ran away.

“No! (Y/n), no! NO!”

It had been six years since that tragedy happened, and not once Dean went to sleep without the nightmare of you coming to Dean with a smile on your face, but with the werewolf’s bite on your shoulders. It might be nothing to Sam, who was already with Dean this time around, but to him, that smile of yours was like mocking him for not saving you when he was there. Witnessing to what the werewolf did to you, witnessing you falling onto the ground lifeless, was a hell of a nightmare to Dean.

He fights monsters. His whole family are, but he doesn’t get nightmare of those monsters chasing him. But he gets nightmare about you all the time, not just that one particular dream you got bitten by the werewolf. Even though in his dream, your smile was pure, but he blames himself for everything that happened to you. Now, even those lovely memories both of you made was like a nightmare to him.

“Hey, you want to go out or something?” Sam asked as he reached out his jacket on the chair, looking at his brother with a crook on his eyebrows. He didn’t know but he gets a feeling that his brother was keeping something.

Dean was sitting at the end of his bed while staring at the ground. “Yeah, just ... give me a minute.”

“Okay. I’ll go wait in the car.”

“Okay.”

Dean got up, entered the bathroom and stood in front of the sink, staring himself at the mirror. All he sees was a man with dark brown hair, and with sharp jaws with his beard growing thick. His green eyes staring back at Dean. Dean thinks he was the same man he looks everyday in the mirror, yet he feels different. He doesn’t know if it has to do with being in the town where you were buried.

In the bathroom, as he stared into the mirror, he made a decision to let his guard down and to do what he should do six years ago while you were alive and were his best friend. That decision took him to your grave while Sam was somewhere for grocery shopping. He didn’t bring flowers for you. He didn’t bring anything you liked that he knew of because he keeps them with him without Sam’s knowledge -- and good thing, you didn’t come as a ghost because your heart was pure and there were nothing unfinished on Earth before your life was taken.

You might not care of why Dean was being so nice to you, and how he would defend you when you’re partially wrong. You might not notice Dean’s simple-yet-takes-every-guard-down gesture. Day after day, year after year, he said nothing of his affection because he thought you’ll live longer and that he still had time to tell you, but he wrong. When you died, he kept them. He kept them in his heart because it hurt so much to say it out loud when you’re not physically with him ... until today.

“You know what, (y/n),” he started. “You’re the first ever girl that ... gi- gave me thing feeling. I’ve been wanting to tell you ever since you startled me with your intelligence about the theories of a serial murder we did back when we first met. Only I didn’t because I was afraid and I thought I still have time, but I was wrong. And I’m sorry.

“(Y/n), I’m- was in love with you,” he whispered to the headstone before him. “I don’t want to say ‘was’ because I am still in love you. If Sam can love Jess even when she died, why can’t I, right?” Dean sniffled. “I’ll- I’ll be back. Yeah, I’m still hunting. Even though I have Sam who’s just as smart as you, but it’s not the same without you. I love you. Forever.”

Dean got up from his crouch and headed back to his car without noticing Sam hiding behind a big tree near where you were buried.

[stillthewordgirl]

LOT/CC fic: Independence Day

Leonard’s back, and Mick has something to show him. CaptainCanary and some Foxfire/Vixenwave.

Many thanks to @larielromeniel for the beta. Can also be read here at AO3 or here at FF.net.

“Almost there, Boss! Honest.”

“All right, already. I’m coming.” Leonard Snart muttered to himself as he carefully maneuvered his crutch and himself down the gravel path in the small park not far from the National Mall in Washington, D.C. Next to him, Sara Lance hid a smile, both at Mick’s enthusiasm and Leonard’s resigned patience. Once, she would have found this whole scene pretty hard to believe.

Today, it’s just them.

By the time they’d found Leonard in that warped alternate Los Angeles, spat out by a time vortex and making do as best he could in those conditions, his shattered leg had long since healed, badly. Gideon had been able to get it pieced back together and healing (after a profoundly unpleasant rebreaking), but insisted that the final knitting should be done naturally.

Leonard had grumbled and Leonard had complained…and Leonard had been so damned relieved to think he’d be able to lose the limp that hampered his steps that he’d had Gideon make him a crutch and carried on anyway. He now picked his way over the gravel, Sara at his side just in case, as they made their way down the path.

“So what the hell’s so important that we had to come here?” he asked her, more amusement than annoyance in his tone. “And today?”

Even cloaked, they hadn’t been able to get the jump ship anywhere close to the city, so the four of them had had to play Independence Day tourist like everyone else, daring public transportation and crowds to get into the heart of D.C. It said something of how Len had changed, that he’d been willing to do so just on the strength of Mick’s eager request, Sara thought.

“That’s something Mick will have to tell you,” she told him, letting her hand brush briefly against his as he paused. “Or show you, rather, since I really do think we’re almost there.”

Len gave her a sidelong look, a smile hovering around the edges of his mouth. At that moment, though, another bellow from Mick had him sighing, taking a few more steps and repeating Sara’s words. “Almost there!”

When they emerged into the clearing a few moments later, Mick was standing there waiting for them, arms crossed. Amaya stood at his side, looking up at the bronze statue that was the area’s centerpiece, and Sara’s eyes went immediately in that direction as well. She immediately put a hand to her mouth, stifling a giggle so not to clue Len in. She’d seen the damned thing in Gideon’s records, but it was quite another matter to see it in person, larger than life.

Leonard was frowning at Mick, so far oblivious. “OK, OK, I’m here. What’s so important that we had to trek all the way out here?” He sighed theatrically. “If I’m going to spend today in this hive of scum and villainy, I’d rather be down in the crowds picking pockets. There are some nice fat sheep out there today.”

“Like you didn’t do that anyway,” Sara murmured to him, earning a smirk—and no denial—in response.

The bigger man just grinned at him.

“I told you I saved George Washington’s life,” he said with satisfaction, taking a step back and waving. “Look. Proof.”

Sara had the pleasant experience, then, of seeing Leonard Snart’s jaw positively drop, leaving him with an expression of stunned surprise that she’d never quite seen before—not even that first night she’d gone to his room after his return. She bit back her laugh, but Amaya didn’t bother, letting out a peel of laughter that made Mick’s grin even bigger as he looked at her.

“I don’t think he believed me, not really,” he told her. “Seemed right to do it today, since we were finally back in 2018.” He patted the base of the statue affectionately. “Pretty neat to see this thing in person.”

Leonard had finally closed his mouth, giving Sara a long-suffering look as he did so. She grinned back, spreading her hands to convey helplessness.

“He insisted,” she told him. “I figured he really should get a chance to see it, and to show you. And honestly, I wanted to, too.”

Len shook his head, then started to pace a slow circle around the statue, studying it as he went.

“Decent likeness,” he observed. “It’s too bad they didn’t put your name on it, but probably just as well.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Mick says happily, regarding it again. “Ol’ George, he was really a decent guy. Practical, great leader. Good fighter. You’d have liked him.”

Leonard looked a little nonplussed by this. “OK,” he drawled. “I dunno, maybe I’m more the Hamilton type.”

Sara snorted at that. “You just like the musical.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Mick, go stand next to it,” Amaya directed him, waving toward the statue. “I want a photo.”

Sara and Leonard watched with amusement as Amaya snapped a photo of Mick Rory with his very own Revolutionary-War-era statue. Mick glared at Len next, pointing next to him, and Sara laughed again as Amaya dutifully took a photo of a grinning Mick and resigned Leonard in front of it.

“This one’s going to Ramon,” Mick said smugly. “He won’t believe it, otherwise.”

“Since when are we all buddy-buddy with Cisco Ramon?”

“Since the aliens. I told you about the aliens, right?”

“Mick, everyone’s told me about the aliens.”

Sara shook her head again. “So, are we going back to the ship now, or are we watching the fireworks?”

“I’d kind of like to see them here.” Amaya sounded wistful. “I know it’s crowded, but it’d be a lovely thing to do, just once.”

Mick offered her his arm in a display of actual gallantry that had Leonard raising his eyebrows. “Then I’ll watch ‘em with you. Um. If that’s OK with you?”

Amaya took it, smiling. “Yes. Yes, it is.” She looked at Leonard and Sara. “And you two?”

Something in her tone told Sara that they hadn’t been nearly as discreet about their new relationship as she thought they’d been. “I think we’ll go back to the ship,” she told the other woman, letting her shoulder bump Leonard’s. “Might be we’ll have some fireworks there, too.” (Len’s breath hitched, and she allowed herself a tiny smirk.)

“Don’t burn anything,” Leonard told Mick. “Unless it’s the White House.”        

“Nah. I know he never lived there, but George wouldn’t like that.” Mick gave the statue one more proud look, then he and Amaya started strolling back down the path. Leonard and Sara watched them go, then Len gave the statue another glance and shook his head before starting slowly after them.

“Missed a lot,” he commented to Sara, something complicated in his tone, as she fell into step besides him. “George Washington. Aliens. My own old asshole self.”

“There were good parts,” she told him, reaching out to curl her fingers around his wrist. “Bad ones, too. I’m just glad to have you back with us now.”

“Glad to be back too.” She felt a momentary hesitation before he slid his hand up and curled his fingers around hers, something he’d never done before. “So…fireworks?”

“If you’re good.”

“You ask an awful lot, captain.”

“You’ll manage, crook.”

[selfignitingimagines]

Stiles- Embarrassing Is My Forte

Request-  Hey! If you feel like it, could you please do one where the reader is a werewolf, but she's bitten by a vampire and she doesn't heal and she's in a lot of pain but she doesn't want to worry anyone so she pretends she's fine (she is the youngest member of the pack, and she has a huge crush on stiles) I understand if you don't want to do this, and I love your writing😍

A/N- So since vampires aren’t really a thing on the show, I changed this up just a little bit. Enjoy!

You shoved open the school doors and stepped outside, sighing in content as you felt the warm air on your skin. Even though your grades had been slipping and you were forced to go to tutoring for hours, you had developed a new appreciation of simple things. Of course, that was a side effect of being put on a hitlist, and now that the deadpool was over, you considered yourself pretty lucky to be alive. It was only weeks ago that you were roaming the halls of Beacon Memorial Hospital, bored out of your mind, when someone covered in blood had come around the corner and attacked you. The psycho had almost torn you apart, and only the sound of footsteps running in your direction had saved your life. A guy with dark hair and a crooked jaw had found you on the floor of hallway, bleeding out and delirious. “Please,” you had begged weakly. “Help me.” Instead of running for a doctor or a nurse like you thought he would, the guy just glanced around nervously. He bit the inside of his cheek and looked down at you, and you took a shallow, shaky breath. “Please. I don’t wanna die.” “Are you sure?” he asked, kneeling next to you. Your brows knitted together in confusion. Of course you were sure. No one wanted to bleed to death on the floor of a hospital, but you figured you didn’t have time to point that out. “Yes,” you whispered sharply. “Please.” His brown eyes met yours, and he nodded down at you, but instead of going for help, he picked up your arm and sank his teeth into it. A sharp scream of pain tore its way out of your throat, and it hurt so much that you passed out. When you woke up, the guy was gone, but you were still covered in blood. You had reached for your abdomen, which the blood-covered guy had practically tore open earlier, but it was now completely healed. You sat up, feeling your head, your arms, anywhere that had even been slightly bruised. Nothing hurt anymore. You suddenly remembered the second guy, the one who bit you, but when you looked down at your arm, there was no mark. You stood up shakily, glancing around at the deserted hall, and that was when a couple of hospital security guards came running around the corner. You tried to explain what happened, but when they saw that you weren’t hurt, they hurried up toward the stairs. You knew they were trying to find the guy who had attacked you, but you guessed a witness covered in blood wasn’t their priority at the moment. You shook your head and headed toward the front desk, alarming the nurses there, but they concluded the same thing you had. You weren’t hurt at all.      You walked back to your cousin’s room and stuck around the hospital for a little while while your aunt went to grab you some new clothes. She was the reason you had been there in the first place, and after she had broken her leg in a car accident, your mom asked you to go sit with her. You were sitting next to her bed when you noticed someone outside in the hall, trying to grab your attention. It was the guy from before, the one who had found you bleeding in the hall. He was waving at you wildly, and against your better judgement, you went out into the hall. “I’ll be right back,” you told your cousin, pushing open the door. “Oh, thank god you’re alive,” the guy had breathed, glancing down at you. “So it was real?” The guy had pursed his lips and nodded. “There’s a lot I have to tell you. And I’m gonna start by saying I’m sorry.” When Scott finally introduced himself and explained that he was a werewolf and you were one too, you didn’t believe him. You were convinced you were hallucinating from the shock of being attacked, but then again, the blood that was on you had been yours. You had no explanation for the cuts and injuries disappearing, and once Scott showed you his glowing red eyes, you finally started to relent. It turns out he had bitten someone else just a little after you, when the same guy who attacked you almost threw a kid in your grade off the hospital roof. You were a werewolf, along with this new guy, and you were both a part of Scott’s pack now. “Jesus,” you had remarked. “Do you just go around biting people all the time?” Scott had frowned. “No. This is actually the first time this has happened to me.” “Seriously?” you asked. “I’m having an off night,” he had stated glumly. Learning control was hard, but you were starting to get the hang of it. That was more than you could say for Liam, the other new beta, whose anger issues were complicating things. Now that the deadpool was over though, you had more time to focus on gaining control of your powers, and you were just relieved you were getting the chance to be normal again. That was why you were so excited about your walk home from tutoring, because while it was something simple, it was mundane. You walked home almost all the time since you lived pretty close to the school, and that was at least one thing that hadn’t changed. You smiled as you headed out toward the sidewalk, just as the school doors opened behind you. You glanced back to see a girl with dark hair slipping out the door. Her name was Kalissa, and you recognized her from your tutoring sessions, so you called out to her. “Hey, Kalissa!” She simply smiled and lifted up her hand to wave, but you were pretty far ahead and she didn’t try to catch up to you. You turned back toward the road and headed toward your house, but the footsteps behind you told you that she was going the same way. It never occurred to you that it would have been smarter to walk beside her, but when you heard breaks screeching behind you, you realized your mistake. You whirled around, just in time to see a dark-haired man jumping out of a car and grabbing Kalissa. She screamed, and something Scott had told you that night in the hospital came to mind. This doesn’t have to be a bad thing, Y/n. You can use to help people. With Scott’s words echoing in your head, your dropped your bag and sprinted toward the car. The guy snatched Kalissa so fast that you knew he must have been something supernatural, and then he slammed her into the side of the car. She fell to the ground, unconscious, and you let out a threatening snarl, but the guy didn’t look afraid. Instead, he let out a roar of his own, and his eyes lit up a bright white. One look at his horrifying teeth told you exactly what he was, and you started toward him. “I hate wendigos,” you hissed to yourself, flicking out your claws. Your eyes lit up a bright yellow as you swiped out at him, catching him across the chest and tearing his shirt. He roared again and started to go hand to hand with you, but it was obvious he was more skilled. By some stroke of luck, you managed to knock his legs out from under him and pin him to the ground, but he quickly lunged up and sank his teeth into your shoulder. You screamed, and through the haze of your pain, you realized that you wouldn’t be able to save Kalissa. The Wendigo grabbed you by the hair and slammed you into the door of the car, and you blacked out for a minute or so. When you opened your eyes, you had just enough time to see him loading a back bag into the trunk and then slam it shut. It took you a few moments to realize that he must have zipped Kalissa into it, and you weakly shoved yourself off the ground. You ran around the side of the car, but he was already inside, and he simply flashed you a crazy grin as he sped off. You limped back to the sidewalk, your shoulder stinging, and pulled out your phone. First, you tried to call Scott, but he didn’t pick up. You didn’t want to call the police and sound totally insane as you explained everything, but if you had to, you would. That was when you realized that there was one more person who might be able to help. Since you were a new werewolf, you didn’t have a long list of contacts that new about the supernatural, but Scott had told you that there was one person who was always willing to help if he could. Dr. Deaton was a veterinarian with a very specific set of skills, and not all of those included treating cats and dogs. When you were introduced to him, he seemed helpful enough, and if you wanted to avoid bringing clueless cops into the situation, then calling him was your best option. You quickly dialed his number and prayed to every god there was that he would pick up the phone. “This is Dr. Deaton,” he announced after a few rings. At the sound of his voice, you let out a breath of relief. “Deaton, this is Y/n, uh, Scott’s beta?” “Oh. What can I do for you, Y/n?” “I think I just watched a wendigo kidnap someone,” you breathed. “I was leaving the school, and he just pulled over and grabbed the girl behind me. I tried to fight him, but he bit me and I tried to call Scott, but-” “Woah, woah, woah,” Deaton cautioned. “Slow down, Y/n. What did he look like?” “Uh, he had, uh, dark hair,” you said slowly. “And I think he had blue eyes. When they weren’t glowing white.” You heard Deaton sigh through the phone. “Wait, do you know him?” “I’m afraid so,” he told you. “He escaped from Eichen House a little while ago, but I think I know where he’s headed. Hopefully I’ll be able to get to him before he hurts that girl. Thank you for calling me.” “Wait, that...that’s it?” you asked. “You’re just going to go after him?” “Yes,” Deaton told you. “Unless you need something else. You’re not hurt are you?” You glanced down at your shoulder. “No, uh, I’m fine. Let me know when you find her.” With a promise that he would, Deaton hung up the phone, and as you slid your phone back into your pocket, you hissed in pain. Your shoulder felt like it was burning, and as you grabbed your bag and headed down the sidewalk, it occurred to you that there was no way you could go home like this. For starters, you weren’t healing at all. Maybe it was because the bite was deep, or because it was from a wendigo, but the mark didn’t look like it was going away anytime soon. You tried to call Scott again, but he still wasn’t answering his phone, and after trying Kira, and Lydia, you realized that you had to try Stiles. He was Scott’s best friend and two years older than you, but you and Stiles got along as if you had been friends for years. Meeting him was one of the best things about Scott biting you, and you knew that if you called him and asked for help, he’d be there within minutes.

Stiles was sitting on his bed when his phone rang, and he pulled his eyes away from his crime board to snatch his phone from his desk. “Hello?” “Uh, Stiles?” you asked hesitantly. “Y/n? Is everything okay?” “Not really,” you told him. “A wendigo just bit me.” “What?” he choked, jumping up. “Where are you? What happened?” “I’m outside the school. I was walking home and there was who was walking behind me. This guy just pulled over and grabbed her, and when I tried to fight him, his eyes were bright white. He bit me, and he took off. I couldn’t help her, but I called Deaton. He said he knows the guy and knows where he’s going.” “Okay,” Stiles told you. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?” “No,” you told him weakly. “I think I’ll be okay.” “You don’t sound okay,” he stated, jogging down the stairs and snatching his keys from the table by the door. “Stiles,” you told him. “I’ll be fine.” “Y/n, I’m not hanging up this phone until I know you’re not gonna die on me.” Despite the pain you were in, you smiled. “Okay.” He talked to you as he drove to the school, probably breaking about five traffic laws in the process. “Stiles,” you croaked. “Please be careful.” “Careful?” he asked, his voice echoing out through the speakers. “‘Course I’m being caref-oh, shit…sure hope that wasn’t a red light.” You laughed softly and tilted your head back against the brick wall you were leaning against. You hadn’t wanted to go back into the school with your torn shirt and bleeding shoulder, but you hadn’t wanted to stay out on the road either. You had gone around the side of the school and sat in the grass to wait for Stiles, hoping you would be out of view. “Hey, where are you?” he asked. You could hear the screeching of the Jeep’s breaks through the phone, and you felt your body sag in relief. “On the side of the school. The one closest to the sign.” “Okay, I’ll be right there.” You heard a car door slam, and true to his word, Stiles didn’t hang up the phone until he skidded to a stop in the grass in front of you. “Oh shit,” he breathed, glancing down at your shoulder in horror. “You really know what to say to a girl, Stilinski,” you remarked weakly. “I-I didn’t mean-it’s just-your shoulder,” he rambled. “It’s okay,” you told him, shoving yourself up from the ground. “I’m sure it looks awful.” You stumbled slightly, and Stiles reached out to catch you. He placed his hands on your shoulders to steady you. “Hey, easy there,” he told you. “I can’t have you dying on me. Scott would kill me.” “Where is he?” you asked him as he led you to the Jeep. “No idea,” he told you. “But I’m taking you to Deaton.” “He’s not there,” you groaned. “He went after the wendigo who took that girl.” “Damn it,” Stiles breathed. “Okay, I’ll call Scott. Hopefully, he’ll pick up, but for now, I have a first aid kit in the jeep. I don’t have any supernatural healing magic, but I’ve got some gauze and some medical tape.” “That works too,” you told him. “God, my head is killing me.” “I also have some aspirin,” Stiles assured you. He led you to the Jeep with an arm wrapped around your waist, and then helped you into the passenger seat. He reached out in front of you to fumble with the glove box for a moment, and then he pulled out a rusty, metal first aid kit. “Sorry, it might be a little old,” he warned. “A little?” you questioned. Stiles’ lips twitched. “Okay, maybe more than a little.” You smiled. “It’s fine, Stiles.” “Great,” he said softly, reaching out to clean the bite mark on your shoulder. You winced, and noticed his fingers were shaking. “Do you want me to do it?” you asked, nodding down to his hand. “I-no, sorry I-I just...you make me kind of nervous.” You rolled your eyes. “Don’t worry, Stiles. I’m not going to attack you again. Besides, it’s not the full moon anymore.” “It’s not that,” he said softly, wiping the dried blood from your shoulder. “Then what is it?” “I-I mean, I don’t hold that against you, you know?” he told you quickly. “It was your first one, and you didn’t end up killing me, so…” “Oh,” you said. “Okay...but why are you so nervous?” Stiles sighed. “You’re a total badass. And you’re really pretty...and I’ve never been the best around girls to begin with.” You blinked, and you felt a smile curling onto your lips. “Stiles, are you saying-” “I like you,” he admitted, the words tumbling from his mouth. “I really like you.” Instead of looking at you, he was fumbling around in the first aid kit for some bandages, but you quickly reached out to grab his wrist. “I like you too, Stiles.” Stiles blinked and looked up. “A-are you sure? Like, you’re not just saying that because I’m totally saving your life right now?” You rolled your eyes again, and Stiles smiled. “I wouldn’t go that far. I doubt this thing is going to kill me.” “You never know.” You sighed. “I like you, Stiles. I’m not just saying it. You’ve been one of the best things about being a werewolf. I don’t think you have any idea just how much I like you. It’s kind of embarrassing.” Stiles grinned. “You? Embarrassing?” “You’d be surprised,” “Well,” he said, leaning forward. “Embarrassing is my forte.” You blinked, glancing down at his lips before meeting his eyes again. Before he had a chance to mess it up, he closed the distance between you. You closed your eyes as he kissed you, and as you wrapped your arms around his neck, you felt a prickling sensation around the bite on your shoulder and the gash on your head. When you and Stiles finally parted, you looked down to find that the wound had completely healed. “Woah,” he breathed. “I must be a better kisser than I thought.” You rolled your eyes at him, but you couldn’t stop the smile blooming on your face. “I’m guessing you didn’t know that could happen?” He shook his head. “You know, even after all this time, I’m sure there’s still stuff we don’t know about werewolves.” You sighed. “I guess I’ve got a lot to learn.” “I can help you out,” Stiles promised. “Starting now. I wonder if kissing could, like, make you sprout wings or something.” He leaned in for another kiss, and you put your hand on his cheek and turned him away. “I do not want wings.” “But you do want me...you do want me, right? I’m not misreading this?” You laughed softly. “Yes, Stiles. I want you.” He sighed in relief. “Good, because this would have been awkward. So, should we call Scott?” You looked down at your healed shoulder. “Eh, I think I’m good.” “Thank god, because I’m starving,” he breathed. “Wanna go get something to eat?” You grinned. “Sure, but uh, maybe I should change first?” He looked down at your bloody shirt. “Oh, hold on.” He leaned forward, practically enveloping you as he reached around your body and into the backseat. He pulled a faded t-shirt from the floor and tossed it to you. “Wear this. It’s clean, it’s just been back there for a while.” “It’s fine,” you promised. You smiled to yourself as you hopped into the backseat to change. Stiles turned around to cover you, and you felt excitement stirring inside you. Initially, you had been freaked out about this whole werewolf thing. Now it was beginning to dawn on you that with superpowers, a chance to save lives, and the guy of your dreams, it wasn’t a bad deal at all.