#she has either left you a carcass to eat or damned you to nightmares for a while. theres no inbetween

[crownlost]

also i'll say she favors a few people but off the top of my head the muse kinda gravitates towards oak and ingo rn. idk why.

[penninstitute]

Case #0100107

Statement of Blaine Mackenzie, regarding a camping trip made up to Vermont with their friends in 2001. Original statement made January 7th, 2010.

I haven’t told this story to anybody. And as far as I know, Grace Acker never told anybody either. I haven’t spoken to her in years, but it’s safe to say she don’t like talking about it. Neither of us did, back when it happened, and we sure don’t now.

Tommy and I have talked about it a bit. But we both try to leave it behind us.

I don’t know why the Hell I’m even telling you any of this.

Needed to get it outta my system, I guess. Been sitting on this for nine years come May. Haven’t told a soul.

I’m from down in New Jersey, moved to Boston a little over two years ago. Been thinking about visiting your little institute for a while, ever since I heard about it. It’s a funny little thing you’ve got going here. I’m amazed it’s still up, don’t know where you get the funding.

I would’ve been inclined to say it’s all bullshit, and. I still think most of it’s bullshit, but after what I saw that day… I’ll allow for some exceptions.

It was early May, 2001. My friend Severin Read, his girlfriend Grace Acker, and our friend Tommy Hirsch, we were all taking a road trip up the east coast. Wanted to take some time, see the sights, we were taking a gap year before we started thinking about college and the like. Fresh out of high school, and we were raring to go.

We took two cars--Tommy and I in one, Severin and Grace in the other. We would camp out in parking lots or find campgrounds to stay at, restocking as we went.

It was fun for a while. We made it up to New Hampshire, and decided to take a bit of a detour, a little change in plans that would add an extra day to the trip, and after a few hours of driving with no destination in mind, found ourselves in Vermont, in the middle of nowhere. It was just woods, where we were, for as far as the eye could see--which wasn’t very far, mind you, considering how the trees got dark past a certain point.

I think that might’ve been where things started to go wrong. I’d never seen darkness like that, and I haven’t seen it since, save nightmares.

Naturally, at the time, we’d blamed the weird darkness on… y’know, woods stuff, and left it at that. We didn’t care. We were kids just out of our parents’ reach for the first time, we were more focused on the adventure than the potential danger.

We were looking for a place to set up camp for the night when we stumbled across what seemed to be an abandoned campground. I’m still amazed at how stupid we were--our first thought was sweet, free campground.

It wasn’t until later I began to wonder why it was deserted.

We were deep in the woods, so there was no reception. It was just us and the woods at night, which is such a classic horror movie set-up, I don’t know how we weren’t on edge all night. The fact of the matter, though, is that we weren’t worried at all. Just excited to have so much space to ourselves.

We set up a fire, played some games, drank a bit, dared Tommy to eat a marshmallow from an old pack of them we found sitting next to a pre-built firepit. He didn’t get sick, but it was still fucking nasty--funny, though.

The four of us were sitting around our fire when the night began to go downhill. Severin said he needed to piss, and that he’d be back in a minute, before he wandered off.

He was gone for twenty minutes before we started to get worried.

“Takin’ a long shit,” Tommy had suggested, and Grace had swatted his arm.

And then we heard Severin shout. It was a wordless, scared sound, just… a noise, a yell from the parking lot area. We sat there, frozen for a few solid seconds, before I got up and cautiously made my way towards where we’d heard the sound. Grace and Tommy just sat there, watching me, frozen.

Severin wasn’t in the parking lot. There was no sign of him. Just our two cars. Grace was distraught, and I calmed her down while Tommy began looking.

We’d searched every section of the campground by 11 P.M., and Severin was nowhere to be found.

I swear to God I’d heard him shout for us, and yet there was no sign of a fight or anything of the sort. All his things had been left behind, it was like he’d just disappeared. There were no leads, and Grace was starting to lose hope. I didn’t think we’d ever know what happened to him.

And then the Stag showed up.

The main thing about it, was that it was big. The next notable thing about it, was that it was dark. It’s eyes were white pinpricks, and its coat was darker than the shadows that stretched across the campground. It was like it was made of the darkness, shifting unnaturally across the Stag’s skin. And I write Stag, not stag, because there is a difference, and it’s one you couldn’t possibly fathom unless you saw the damned thing.

A dark, reddish-brown ichor dripped from its antlers and face. Too dark to be blood, but I don’t know what else it could’ve been. You could hear its breathing--it sounded sick, every inhale accompanied by a deep, rumbling wheeze.

We had regrouped by our fire when it arrived. It’s mere presence made the light practically die out, leaving a few embers still glowing in the bottom of the pit.

The Stag screamed. It was an indescribable and yet familiar sound. It was the dying shriek of a ghost and Severin’s wordless shout from just hours earlier that had set us searching. It made my blood run cold.

Severin’s whereabouts didn’t matter anymore. We ran.

I ended up separated from Grace and Tommy. I’d run towards the treeline, crashing through the pitch black woods. I could hear it breathing behind me, but not its footsteps--for a creature of that size, I thought for sure I’d be able to hear it trampling the earth, but it was just that fucking breathing.

I just ran. I ran for as long as I could, as fast as I could, but the Stag was on my tail the entire time, I could feel it.

Eventually, I tripped. Because of course I did, right? I tripped over a root or some shit and went down, and by the time I’d realized what had happened, the Stag was right behind me. I flipped onto my back and crawled backwards as best I could, trying to put distance between us, but it kept advancing until I was backed up against a tree.

I was trapped.

I didn’t know what to do. I’d been backed into that corner, and the thing was just staring at me, wheezing all the while. A sound like a growl rumbled from its chest, and it lowered its head to glare at me with those burning white eyes, whatever was on its antlers dripping onto my face and shirt.

It smelled like a rotting animal carcass and burning hair. It carried the sweetness of sickness and death, so thick I was practically choking on it.

“Leave my wood, child,” it said, voice deeper than anything I’d heard, loud enough to shake the earth and trees, enough to leave my head pounding.

I just nodded mutely. It stepped back, away from me, before disappearing. The scent lingered, and I sat there for… I don’t even know how long. I just sat there and tried to breathe. By the time I’d gained my bearings, the scent still hadn’t faded.

I got up and stumbled back to the cars on shaking legs.

Grace and Tommy looked shaken, but better off than me. They’d gone back to the campsite when they realized the Stag had chased after me instead. They asked me what happened, but I didn’t say a word, just dropped my keys in Tommy’s hand and all but crawled into the backseat.

I was covered in what quite honestly looked like blood, smelled like a dead animal, and wasn’t talking. I’m surprised they didn’t just abandon me there.

Grace went back and got our things before transferring anything she wanted from Severin’s car to mine. They’d given up the hunt, it seemed. Grace took the passenger seat, and Tommy drove us out of there. It was around one in the morning. We didn’t stop until we reached a motel, and Grace called the police to report Severin missing.

The last thing I saw of that campsite was the Stag, watching us go, and all I could hear was that rattling wheeze.

They never did find Severin’s body.

FOLLOW-UP NOTES

... God, I hate anything relating to the dark like that. Personal grievances aside, this statement has... a lot to go off of, actually. Blaine Mackenzie (now Blaine Hirsch), Grace Acker, and Tommy Hirsch are all alive and well. Mx. Hirsch refused our request for a follow-up interview, said nothing’s changed since their original statement.

Mr. Hirsch and Ms. Acker didn’t have much to say, just confirmed what Mx. Hirsch reported in their original statement.

I’d say the statement is believable enough. Animals made out of darkness aren’t too far-fetched a concept. I don’t think we’ll be looking too much further into this.

[eclecticstarlightconnoisseur]

Edinburgh to Boston - Chapter 9 - Snow Day

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 

Chapter 3

Chapter4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Hello all, Sorry for the delay getting this chapter out there.  Real life some times gets in the way. This includes technology as my hard drive died. I didn’t lose much, most of what is really important was able to be salvaged.

I finally got around to including links to the other chapters, so anyone who has not read them all will be able to find them if they want. 

Has anyone noticed that Jamie has not called Claire Sassenach in eight chapters? Well, that will be rectified now. You don’t know how hard it was not to call her that all this time.

If there are any questions, comments, or thoughts please don’t hesitate to let me know. I can only learn from what you all say. Respectfully, please.

I do need to thank my beta @curlsgetdemgurls reading this and giving me the courage to post this. You are the best. Chapter 10 is underway.  I have no idea when it will be done, but there is a Chapter 10. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Without further delay, I give you:

Edinburgh to Boston

Chapter 9

Snow Day

Jamie and Claire sat at the table by the window, enjoying their breakfast. Jamie attacked his bowl of parritch, mixed berries, and honey with the ravenous appetite of a starving wolf who just happened across a carcass.

“Nuthin’ like a healthy bowl of parritch to start the day,” said Jamie, giving a withering look at Claire’s breakfast choices of fried eggs, bacon, and toast slathered with butter and jam.

“Well, Fraser, when in America, eat like one,” she said while waving a delectable piece of crunchy fried pork in the air. “It happens to be quite good. Even though they have got this bacon thing all wrong. Not like the rashers we have at home. Still, it is delicious.” Popping the tasty morsel into her mouth, she rolled her eyes and groaned ecstatically.

Jamie’s eyes narrowed suspiciously at the remaining piece sitting on the plate, “Looks mostly like fat to me.” He reached over, snatching the ribbon of porkiness from her plate, considered it, and swiftly consumed it. “Hmm, fatty, salty, crispy, and smoky.  ‘Tis good, but I wouldna want to eat it every day.  Cannae be good for ye.”

Sighing and shaking her head,  Claire leveled a look of exasperation at him. “Live a little will you? We’re on vacation!”

He let out a laugh, “Yer right, but there is no need to be unhealthy.  As it is, I’ll no’ be going to the gym today. Hmm, mebbe I’ll just carry ye around instead,” he said smugly. Tilting his head to the side, he gave her body an appraising look, much like gazing upon the beauty of a perfect rose.

“What do ye weigh a leannan, about 8-9 stone? That’s no’ much. I’ll never get a decent workout just carrying ye around,” he smirked.

“Why thank you, I think. That is supposed to be a compliment, right? You don’t think I’m too thin do you?” Suddenly becoming self-conscious, she looked down at herself trying to figure out if she was too fat or too thin.

“Aye, it ‘tis and no yer not. I like ye just fine the way ye are.”

Jamie leaned back in his chair stretching out his long legs and taking a sip of his coffee.

“So, lass, what would ye like to do today?”

“Well, if you are worried about not getting your proper exercise, there are other forms of exercise that will raise your heart rate, you know,” Claire said as she cast a quick glance back toward the bed.

Jamie ignored this.

“I ken what we can do! Why dinna ye take me to some of yer favorite places ye liked to go when ye lived here?”

“I don’t know if that is a wise idea. Boston winters are very cold and I don’t think that either of us has appropriate clothes to go wandering about. Besides, I don’t know how many places are open today. Most people will be digging out.”

Getting up, Jamie went to rummage through his suitcase. Sure enough, he found his favorite forest green cable knit pullover, his black jeans, a pair of duck boots, and his down jacket.

“Weel, I’ll be damned.  I dinna remember packing these. Check yer bag let’s see what you have in there.”

Claire opened her suitcase and found clothes suitable for outdoor activities. She found her favorite cashmere jumper in midnight blue and her woolen turtleneck sweater in deep rich wine. She also found her favorite black skinny jeans, a warm wooly hat and gloves, and her parka.

“I know I didn’t pack these. I’m sure of it.” Her eyebrows drew together in confusion as she considered how these clothes ended up in her bag.

“It doesna matter how they got there, yer clothes are here. Let’s get dressed. I shall leave the itinerary to ye.”

Claire’s breathing quickened. She began to nervously play with one her curls, twisting it around her finger, over and over.  Truth be told, there was a certain amount of anxiety about leaving the room. She worried about dredging up old memories that she safely tucked away after ending her marriage to Frank. Least of all was the prospect of visiting places that held unpleasant memories. Most certainly she did not want to visit these places with Jamie. Fearing the possibility of a chance meeting with Frank gave her shivers.  She concluded that the likelihood of a chance meeting would be remote as classes would be canceled. That would leave Frank free to shack up with some bimbo, er umm, a young woman all day.

“What’s amiss, lass? Ye look a bit peely-wally. Are ye alright?”

“Sorry?”

“Something is bothering ye. It’s written all over yer face. Ye ken ye can tell me anything.”

Jamie walked back to the chair by the window, pulling Claire along. He sat down and settled her on his lap.

“I dinna want ye to feel that ye need to tell me anything that ye canna, but I can see yer fair fashed over something. Mo nighean donn, tell me what’s bothering ye if ye can.” He raised his hand cupping her cheek and began to stroke his thumb over her cheekbone.  Melting into the warmth of his hand, she relaxed.

“I wasn’t honest with you when I told you I slept well.”

She cleared her throat nervously, eyes darting around the room searching for something to focus on while gathering her thoughts.

“I, ah, had a nightmare about, ...well, it was about Frank. It left me feeling rather unsettled, to say the least.”

Her body language and voice were contradictions, outwardly appearing composed while her voice quavered with emotion. Describing her dream, she related how Frank tried to plant seeds of doubt and used her insecurities against her. The Scottish Barbarian and The English Rose. Insinuating she had a need for someone to dominate her. Jamie observed Claire as she told her story. Her face contorted with frustration, anger, shame; her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“I told…,” her voice cracked, “I told him that I love you and you love me. And, and that he should bugger off and not come back,” Claire said this with pride in her voice. “But he said he would come back when I called him. I don’t want to see him ever again, really I don’t. I’ll never call him back, never.” With that, Claire buried her face into Jamie’s shoulder crying shedding tears of outrage and irritation.

Jamie’s mouth drew together in a tight white line.  His eyes burned with anger. That Englishman, that filthy sassenach bastard! How could he have the audacity to come into his bed between him and his woman upsetting her, trying to sow the seeds of doubt. He had no care for insults or slurs directed at him. He heard them before. But, Claire! She is kindness and goodness personified. If I ever meet him...

Jamie’s arms came around her, pulling her close to him.  His strong hands rubbed her back in soothing circles. He spoke to her softly in the Gàidhlig, speaking words of comfort that had no meaning to Claire but spoke to her heart and soul.

Jamie cradled her close to his chest and gently stroked her hair, “I’ll let nay harm come to ye as long as I walk this earth. Dinna be afraid, a leannan, there is the two of us now.”

Claire nodded her head and sniffed.

Jamie’s hand reached under Claire’s chin, raising it up so that he could look onto her face. Her eyes were puffy, nose red and runny, and her cheeks were tear stained.

“Ye are so beautiful, mo chridhe,” Jamie said smiling. He took a serviette wiping Claire’s runny nose as he kissed away her tears.

She sniffed, “You must be blind. I’m really not sure you should be operating anymore. I’m sure I don’t look beautiful right now.”

“Yer beautiful to me always,” he said lovingly.

Jamie’s voice took on a more serious tone. “Claire, if ye dinna want to go out because yer worried that ye will run into Frank,” he growled saying the bastard’s name, “I dinna want you to do anything that will make ye uncomfortable. We could always find something else to do.” He waggled his eyebrows in an attempt at being suggestive.

“Ridiculous man,” she said with a smile in her voice, feeling so grateful to have found him.

Closing her eyes to aid her concentration, she considered Jamie’s suggestion carefully weighing each of the pros and cons.

How much longer will I give Frank power over me, to control me and my life? It’s been three years since we divorced and he still tries to make me insecure, belittle me. When will I remove myself from his grasp? It’s now or never. It’s time to choose.  Time to take back what’s mine.

“NO! No, I won’t run and hide.  Frank has run my life for far too long, and I’ll be damned if I let him continue. Let’s go see Boston, Jamie. We’ll make our own memories,” Claire said grinning.

“That’s my lass. Yer strong, brave, and fearless and I love ye for it.” Jamie gave her a resounding smack on the lips that left her breathless.

They quickly dressed and departed the room laughing, smiling with their fingers intertwined.

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

Jamie and Claire stepped outside of the comfort of their hotel into the bitter cold and biting winds. In spite of being warmly dressed, the frigid temperature threatened to seep its way into the very marrow of their bones.

The sidewalks were barely passable despite the best efforts of man, machine, and salt. Icy patches dotted the landscape causing the lovers to slip and slide along the walkways. Jamie’s hand reached out taking Claire’s elbow to steady her. They climbed over mounds of grey city snow that sported an occasional yellow streak.

After walking for twenty minutes, they reached Boston Common, each sporting red runny noses and equally red cheeks.

“I’m beginning to think yer first suggestion to stay in bed all day was a good idea,” Jamie said with a smirk on his face, the steam of his breath escaping with each word.

“Do you want to turn back?” A look of concern written all over her face.

“Nah, I was concerned about ye, Sassenach.”

Claire stopped dead in her tracks.  “Sassenach?! I know that word and it isn’t very nice.  Isn’t that something derogatory to call me?” Her amber eyes narrowed glaring at him with unnerving thoroughness.

“In truth, it depends on who and how they are saying it. The word sassenach really means Englishman or English lady. At worst, it means outlander. I have always called ye Sassenach in my mind.  Ye see I have always thought of ye as my English Lady. A woman of grace and refinement, a true Lady.”

With that, Jamie smiled placed his hand over his heart and made a courtly bow, “My Lady, I am at yer service.”

Giggling at the sight she decided to return the gesture.  Bowing her head and spreading the skirt of her jacket, Claire curtsied, “My Lord.”

Jamie popped up like a jack-in-the-box.

“Who told ye?” he demanded.

Claire looked quizzically at Jamie, “Who told me wot?”

“That I am a Laird.”

“You’re a wot???” she gasped.

“I am Laird Broch Tuarach of Lallybroch Estate.  My home. ‘Tis only an honorary title now, but it has been handed down in my family since the 18th century. Lallybroch is a working farm in the Highlands, ye ken.  My sister Jenny and her husband Ian run it. Their five children live there too. But, technically it is mine as I retain the title and will pass it on to my son someday.”

“Hmm, do I have to curtsy every time I see you, my Laird?” Claire asked with a coy smile.

Laughing to herself, she wondered how the OR staff would react if they had to curtsy every time he came to do a case.

“Nay, I think we can dispense with the formalities if ye please,” Jamie said with a chuckle.

“Good. It’s awfully hard to curtsy in the bloody snow.”

“May I offer ye my arm my Lady as we stroll about on this fine cold day...for the sake of yer safety of course. I wouldna want ye to slip and fall injuring yerself.” His blue eyes, as blue as the cold clear sky, crinkled with mirth as he extended his arm for her to take.

Bobbing her head, and lowering her eyelashes demurely she said, “It would be my pleasure, my Laird,” and placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. Claire suddenly wondered why this felt like such a familiar thing to do.

Jamie tucked her hand securely in place pulling his arm and her hand closer to his body. He began to speculate why it felt like he had done this more times than he could remember. It felt natural, more like an everyday occurrence for them to walk like this.

A strong wind blew up around them, coating Claire from head to foot in a sheath of powdery snow crystals. The hair that peaked out from under her cap glistened, lashes sparkled with the tiny flakes that clung to them, and her clothes were enrobed in glittering flakes. She took on an otherworldly aura.

His mouth opened as he watched the swirling dust of snow float around her.

She must be one of the faes. No, not just a fae, but Queen of the Fae. For only the Queen could be so beautiful.

He stood there envisioning her in the finery befitting a Queen. A circlet of silvery moonbeams would adorn her head accentuating her mass of curls. Her lithe form draped in a diaphanous gown made of diamond dust while her feet were encased in slippers made from starlight.

He wanted to fall on his knees in worship, beg her to take him to her Queendom. He would become her Knight of the Realm, her Champion. With dirk and sword, he would do battle shielding her from harm. He would slay dragons, protect her from evil sorcerers, and safeguard her from malevolent creatures. As darkness envelops the earth, he would sleep at her feet sheltering and guarding her against the dangers that lurk in the blackness of night. She had cast a spell on him and he was happy to be under her power.

He heard the tinkling of her laughter, much like a wind chime, light and gentle in the breeze. Her eyes crinkled with merriment as a small buffy-brown bird landed on her shoulder. It hopped along coming closer to her ear merrily chirping. Claire raised her hand and stroked the downy head of the little bird speaking softly to it. Her hand went to her pocket and returned with a bit of her toast from breakfast. She opened her hand and the warbler flew onto her hand seized the bread and took wing.

Jamie stood in awe of the scene unfolding before him. “Is a wild bird so tame for her?!” The scene repeated itself several more times with birds flitting along her arm, singing and trilling to her. Each was tenderly stroked, given a bit of bread, then flew off to join its fellows. Her hand went to her pocket pulling out the remainder of the toast wrapped in the serviette. She tore the bread into bits scattering it on the snow.  En masse a clan of the small birds gathered joyously chirping doing a demented dance around the bread, pecking at it.

Mary, Michael, and Bride, she is the Queen of the Fae!

Claire looked at him with a radiant smile.

For a split second, Jamie became irrationally afraid.

“How did ye do that, lass!? The birds, they seem so tame!”

“I don’t do anything, really. They just come. It’s been happening for a long time, ever since I was a little girl. It started not long after my parents died,” Claire said with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Sassenach, do ye want to tell me about it if ye can?” Jamie asked cautiously knowing her parents' death is a painful and sensitive area for her.

There was a moment of hesitation, then taking a deep breath to steel herself for the memories.

“As I told you after my parents deaths my uncle Lamb became my guardian. He was writing a book on the meaning of birds in different cultures. While he sat writing in his study, I would play in the garden. One day, not long after my arrival, I was playing with my plushy dog when a bird, a sparrow, flew down next to me. Its head turned side-to-side watching me. Then it began to sing one of the sweetest songs I had ever heard. I held out my hand and it hopped on, chirping madly while wildly flapping its wings as if it were a leaf caught in a maelstrom.”

Claire’s eyes clouded and her lip quivered while struggling to maintain her composure as the childhood memories beset her.

“I began to pet the bird and it quieted under my touch. It began to sing again, but this time soft and low. For a moment, I thought I heard my mother’s voice singing the lullaby she sang to me at bedtime.”

She gave Jamie a sidelong glance to see if he thought she was deranged. He stood there calm, placid, face expressionless, giving no hint to his inner thoughts.

“I started to cry and the bird flew off. I got up and ran into to tell Lamb what happened. He picked me up, put me on his lap, and cuddled me to his chest. After he wiped my tears, he told me that ancient Egyptians believed that sparrows carried the souls of the dead to heaven. Perhaps this one came to tell me that my parents were in heaven with God and the angels and I shouldn’t worry.”

A single tear ran down her cheek.

“I was happy that Momma and Daddy were in heaven, but I really didn’t understand all of what he was talking about.  Later, as they continued to visit me, we talked about it again. Lamb told me that a Buddhist teacher he knew believed that a person in mourning is considered a very holy person. This holy state opens the mourner to experience things that are beyond the physical world and more receptive to the spiritual world. Lamb thought that was why I thought I heard my mother singing or my father’s laugh when the birds came. Grieving opened my heart to other possibilities.”

“Three months before you came,” she continued, “whenever I would walk Ginger in the park the birds would continue to visit. I began to hear another voice, a new one. It was deeper, rich, and very, very masculine. He would call my name, sometimes in passion and sometimes with love and laughter.” Giving him a quick sidelong look she finished her tale,  “I know now that it was your voice I heard.”

Jamie startled at this revelation. Was it truly his voice or could it be the other’s voice calling out to her from across the centuries? He wondered if she was ready to hear about the Fraser Legend. No, he thought not just yet. He disliked withholding something from her but now was definitely not the right time.

Beginning to fidget, she moved her foot in the snow gouging out a divot with the heel of her boot. She felt the heat rising up to color her cheeks. She was afraid to look at Jamie fearing that she would see he truly thought her insane.

Neither spoke for a time. The only sound around them was the wind soughing through the leafless branches.

“Claire, look at me.” Jamie placed his fingers under her chin forcing her head up to look at him. She kept her eyes closed not able to bear the disdain she would see in his eyes for her.

“Mo ghràdh, look at me, please. I believe you. I dinna understand it, but I believe you.”

“How can you believe me when it sounds crazy even to me? Really, Jamie! I have often wondered if this...” Claire waved her hand toward the birds eagerly consuming the bread, “was nothing more than the imaginings of a sad and lonely child who grew up to become a sad and lonely adult searching for her lost parents and her lost home. A woman who is so desperate that she convinces herself that some sparrows hold the souls of her dead parents. Christ, Jamie!”

He looked at her, her glass face giving away her sense of loss, loneliness, and pain. “Sassenach,” he spoke gently to her as if she were a frightened child, “I am an educated man but I am also a Highlander born and bred. I do ken there are many a thing that is beyond our understanding. There are many tales of the highlands that still canna be explained. Why not this?” His eyebrow lifted in an inquiry.

“Can ye explain what happened to Robert Gordon? The man was clinically dead after 30 minutes of resuscitation no heartbeat, no breathing. Then all of a sudden the man sits up and starts talking. He told us everything that happened in that room, everything we said and did. He said he saw his wife and bairns calling and greetin’ for him.  There was more for him to do he kent, so he decided to come back.”

“Yes, I remember.” Claire shuddered at the remembrance of the event. It still gave her chills to think about it.

“Can ye explain that? No, I dinna think so. There are things that are outside our ken. Why must ye explain yers? It just is. Dinna question it, especially when it makes ye happy to believe so.”

Her rational mind, the scientific part of her, rejected any possibility of this being true, but the little girl in her wanted, no needed to hold on to any chance that she might still have some connection to her family.

Claire’s eyes drifted down toward the snow.  The clan of sparrows left, all except three.  She sighed.  It was always the same, three of the warblers always remained, two males and one female.

The birds stood there cocking their heads from side-to-side regarding Claire and Jamie. The female and one of the males flew up alighting on Claire’s shoulder. The female came close rubbing her feathery head against Claire’s cheek, softly cheeping to her.  The male landed on her opposite shoulder gently pecked at her hair.

The more vocal male flew up landing on Jamie’s forearm giving him a level look. He began to chatter and chirp loudly hopping up his forearm with the determination of a sprinter moments away from the finish line.

His black birdy eye coldly glared while uttering piercing squawks of what seemed to be warning or admonition.  The feathery wings spread wide fluttering frantically. This was one very agitated bird.

“If we are going to believe these creatures possess the souls of my family, I think he is my father and these two are my mother and uncle,” Claire said with a small smile.

“Aye, I think yer right, Sassenach.”

Jamie reached up took hold of both of  Claire’s hands, linking them together.

“Sirs and Madam,” Jamie said with all solemnity, “I am James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser, and I am deeply in love with yer daughter and niece. My intentions are honorable and I promise to see her safe, care for her and love her all the days of my life. I ask yer approval of our relationship.” He bowed his head in respect toward the feathery family.

In unison, their heads swiveled toward Claire questioning.

“I love him too. He fills my heart with love and joy. He takes away the emptiness. When I am with him it's as if the sun comes out on a cloudy day filling my life with light and warmth.”

The downy kinfolk flew around them coming to land on their joined hands singing sweet and mellow.

“I hope ye dinna mind, but I plan to kiss yer daughter.”

Their hands broke apart.  Jamie raised his hands up to cup Claire’s face, “Before yer family, I love ye, Claire Beauchamp across all time.”

“I love you too, always and forever,” she sighed into his mouth.

He leaned forward and tenderly pressed his lips to hers. A kiss filled with so much love, tenderness, and promise.

His eyes crinkled and a smile lit his mouth, “Aye, I must love ye Sassenach, ye have me talking to the birds too.”

The little bird family took flight soaring high above the lovers and disappeared into the sky knowing their daughter and niece was well loved.

[umbralich]

History pt. 5 - Downfall

Part 4 <---

The couple of weeks that followed were... interesting. Arsene's master, Varg Blacksoul, had come back home from work a few hours later Lareine had awakened. For Lareine's relief he had just briefly dropped by in her room before disappearing again. She had quickly learned to get along well with Arsene, who had happened to been keeping her company when Varg had arrived, so they had avoided the most awkward possible situations. Varg had just walked in without bothering to knock, looked from Lareine to Arsene, and without even greeting, just asked: "Has she eaten?"

"Oh yes", Arsene had answered, smiling. "For at least three people."

Varg had nodded absent-mindedly and then asked Lareine: "Need any more analgesics?"

"The anal what?" Lareine had blurted.

"Painkillers."

"Ah, no." He had nodded again and walked out of the door. Lareine hadn't seen him during that day anymore. Arsene had explained he was very busy, and was currently working for the archbishop and his personal guard, clergy, hospital, front lines and on top of all he had his own, unofficial clinic where odd folks with odd problems came for help.

"Wow", Lareine had said. "He doesn't eat or sleep at all then, huh?"

"Scarcely", Arsene had admitted furrowing.

"Ain't it possible to die from too much work?" she had asked.

"It is, indeed", the butler had agreed, looking suddenly very grim for some reason. Lareine hadn't seen fit to ask more about it. It wasn't her problem.

She had spent a couple of days just laying still and staring at the sky from the window of her room. Hells yes she would've needed more painkillers, but hells no she hadn't wanted to take anything from Varg again. Her mind was feeling much more clear without his mixtures. She had also started to feel her numb limbs again, maybe even too vividly. Soon she had been back to the point she could barely move, and the men had started to have their suspicions.

"Don't touch me!" Lareine had barked at Varg, when Arsene had finally gotten fed up with Lareine's misery and demanded him to come and take a look at her.

"I kind of have to", he had stated, sounding indifferent, almost bored, while standing next to Lareine's bed, holding a syringe. "Or do you want to rather suffer?"

"Why can't he do it?" Lareine had asked and nodded towards Arsene, who had been following their conversation with his forehead full of wrinkles.

Meanwhile Varg had sighed and glanced towards the roof like asking for endurance and patience from the higher powers, Arsene had explained:

"I'm very sorry, but I don't know much about medicine. Does the miss have any idea what horrors would happen, even with a small instrument like such, in the hands of the unaware?"

Lareine had glared at the butler for a moment, but after it had become clear he wouldn't offer her any support, she had turned back to glare at the au ra.

"...don't touch me", she had repeated stubbornly.

"Fine", Varg had said. "I will give it to you after you have passed out."

Then he had walked away again, leaving her spend some quality time with her aching carcass. Lareine indeed had passed out later that evening. When she had come to next morning, the pain had been almost completely gone, but she was feeling numb and tired again.

"Screw you", she had muttered alone in the empty room.

After thinking long and hard Lareine had come to a conclusion, that if she kept taking her damned medicine, she would get better sooner, and thus could also leave this mental hospital sooner. She had decided she would play a nice little girl for a week or two, endure her sentence and then... Varg was at work almost all the time, and Arsene, despite spending most of his time at the estate, would just mind his own business. She'd be far before they'd even realize she was missing.

Arsene had seemed genuinely happy about the sudden change in her attitude, but when the next time to take her medicine had come and she hadn't resisted, Varg had stared at her with narrowed eyes like trying to see through her. It surely had felt like it too.

However, Lareine wasn't too concerned about it. She knew how people like him were: they tried to appear intimidating and dominating, but it was just pretense. In reality they were whimpering, weak losers, and their show affected only those with feeble minds. Just like Pavel had been. She was certain, that if she could use her hands, legs and weapons like usual, she and Varg would be pretty much equally good in a fight. He might have more power, but she had more speed and agility. If it was one versus one, and not five versus one like the previous match had been...

There was just one little problem. Laying in bed had become boring already during the first day Lareine had awakened. She had asked Arsene to fetch her some books, but their assortment had sucked. Most of their books had been about anatomy, herbs, elixirs and potions. The only ones that had interested Lareine even a little had been about different weapons: their history, making and maintenance, but the dagger and glaive part had been frustratingly short. Arsene had softened to bring Lareine a couple of tomes from his own shelf, but they hadn't been much of use either.

"Ugh, there's really people out there who read crap like this?" Lareine had cried out thunderstruck, and only too late realized the butler had been still standing next to her. "No offense, gramps", she had added. "But this stuff is so... sugary, ya know?"

Arsene had just laughed understandingly and taken his books back. "These are very old ones I've kept only for the sake of nostalgia. But why, I thought a young lady like you would be into love stories."

"They're alright", Lareine agreed, was silent for a while and then continued: "But right now I can't stand anything love-related in my eyes."

Arsene had observed her in silence with a hint of sadness on his face. "I see.”

For a few weeks Lareine had laid low and let her body heal, but after she had sworn and promised she wouldn't strain herself or make fast or sudden movements, Varg had given her permission to get out of her room.

"Keep an eye on her", he had commanded Arsene, while pulling his boots on in the hallway. "The internal damage is far from healed. The only reason she can stay on her feet for short periods of time is her medication. And the only reason I am allowing this nonsense is because I am aware it can get... boring in here." "Don't worry. I'll make sure she won't overdo it", Arsene had assured at Varg's back, while he had already been halfway out of the door.

Consequently Lareine had joined Arsene in his daily chores, though Arsene did all the work and Lareine was sitting or laying down somewhere nearby while watching him. It was quite dull as well since Lareine herself couldn't do anything, but it still beat the constant hours laid alone in bed. At least she had someone she could talk to. And the more time she spent away from her bed, the less time she had to see nightmares about Pavel and the night she was beaten.

She didn't remember there being even one moment she wouldn't have seen nightmares while she had slept. Every single moment of the times she should've been resting she had endlessly tried to escape mountain-sized roegadyns and hyurs. They had been running swiftly, meanwhile she had run slowly like she'd been wading in tar down to her knees. And just when she had been certain she had somehow miraculously shaken them off, the rat-faced midlander had jumped from somewhere down her throat and the rest of them had also caught her.

Couple of times her own screams had awakened her, and once it had been Arsene who had been beside her, trying to wake her up.

"You don't have to see them if you don't want to, miss Lareine", the butler had reassured her. "My master happens to have a similar problem, and he has a certain mixture that lets you sleep a dreamless sleep. It's quite strong however, has some troublesome side effects and may cause addiction, so it's not recommended for constant use. But every now and then, it shouldn't be a problem -"

"I don't want it", Lareine had interrupted, wiping sweat away from her face. "Don't tell him, please. Really... this ain't as bad as it seems."

Arsene clearly hadn't believed a word she had said, but he hadn't mentioned it again. He apparently also hadn't told Varg, since the au ra never suggested Lareine taking the medicine in question.

After six weeks had passed since the beating, Lareine had become convinced it was time for her to go. She hadn't left the estate and thus hadn't been able to test for how far she could actually walk, but she was quite sure she'd have enough stamina to get to the stables. She'd steal some money from the estate's stash and rent a cart as far as it could take her. Her plans to start a new life with Rosaria hadn't become reality, but nothing could still prevent her from starting her own new life. She had found out about possible places to go and had gotten interested in Kugane, the capital of far east.

Lareine had perhaps grown fond of the old butler, and was sad she should leave him behind without even telling him. She would contact him later, explain everything and tell him she was safe. It was obvious Arsene knew some... things, but Lareine wanted to believe he hadn't sunken as low as his master. However, not even the only friend-like person she had ever found was enough reason to keep her here - not after what she had witnessed in this house of horrors.

Now she knew for sure her instinct had been correct from the start. There was something horribly wrong with their so called master. At first Lareine had thought she had just bathed in her own blood for so long it had ingrained the stench into her nose forever. However, lately she had learned it wasn't coming from her. It was him.

The stench was at its worst at times when Varg got home, and the only times Lareine didn't smell it was right after he had bathed and Arsene had done their laundry. She certainly didn't swallow the explanation of him being a trauma chirurgeon. There were countless other medics around the world who did the exact same kind of work as he did, but they didn't smell like slaughterhouse when they left work.

One day, while following Arsene doing his chores, Lareine had learned of the estate's cellar. The butler had been currently dusting his master's office, while Lareine had been exploring places. After not finding anything interesting from the shelves filled with boring books, a couple of animal skulls and a huge collection of potions and herbs, Lareine had casually opened one of the drawers of Varg's desk, waiting to find something ordinary inside, like notebooks, parchment, quills, pocket watch or gil.

"Is this a friggin' thumbscrew?" she would've wanted to ask. Instead, she had lifted the thing from the drawer and asked innocently: "Gramps, the heck is this?"

Arsene had frozen on the spot for a fleeting moment, and looked at the thing with a blank face. He had recovered from his confusion quickly.

"A certain kind of tool, miss Lareine", he had said, had calmly walked closer and taken the thing from her, simultaneously closing the drawer. "My my, what has gotten into him..? He knows better than well I don't like it when he scatters things in places where they don't belong."

Despite not being finished in the office, Arsene had led Lareine out of the room, and on their way they had stopped in front of the cellar door. Arsene had taken a key from his pocket, opened the door and forbade Lareine from entering, since the descent was steep and the stairs old and unstable and blah blah blah. Lareine had watched when he had disappeared into the dark corridor. She had heard a small chink from somewhere far away, and then Arsene had ascended the stairs, closed and locked the door, and continued his day like nothing out of ordinary would've happened.

Lareine didn't believe Varg actually did anything in the cellar. She would've noticed. But she was now certain what kind of "work" he did. She wanted to get far away from him and fast.

Next time she was alone with Arsene, and Varg had left for his night shift a couple of hours ago, Lareine put her plan in motion.

"I'm feeling tired, gramps", she noted after they had just had their evening tea, and were getting ready for some late paperwork. For a couple of days Arsene had been going through their archives and getting rid of useless papers, letting Lareine put the spared ones in order. "I think I'm gonna go to sleep early today."

"As you wish, miss Lareine", Arsene said while smiling. "I'll be up for a few hours at least. You're welcome to join me if you can't get sleep."

"Thanks."

Lareine had retired into her room and waited, until she was certain Arsene had returned to the living room. She still didn't have clothes to her liking, just some old-fashioned rags left by the previous masters of the estate. Arsene had promised to take Lareine shopping after she could go outside, but that would have to wait. In her current clothes she'd look like a beggar, but perhaps that would serve her cause.

It was almost ridiculously easy to get out. When she had first arrived to the estate, Lareine had definitely overestimated the duo. Arsene was listening to an orchestrion and humming playfully while sorting the papers. He sat in the couch and had turned his back to the corridor. Lareine was able to sneak past him like he wouldn't have even been there. There also wasn't any kind of security, only ordinary, locked doors she was able to open from the inside. She snatched someone's long, black winter coat from the coat rack and dashed outside. Lareine hadn't bothered to take boots that were several sizes too big. She'd survive better with her slippers, that also were a bit big for her, but at least they weren't men's size.

While Lareine was scurrying along the desolate streets of Ishgard, she felt free for the first time in ages. Even the cold weather, freezing paving or sleet that watered her head almost instantly couldn't ruin her triumph. She followed her plan and headed towards the stables. To her surprise, the cart driver currently on standby didn't ask her any questions, just gave her a very long look while she paid, and then apparently decided she had a good reason to do what she did.

Lareine noted to herself, that apparently chocobo cart and cobblestone street weren't a good combination for a traveler who had broken bones and stab wounds. Pff, who cared? She'd just have to bite the bullet. It'd get easier once they got away from the city. Roads were usually flatter.

When the cart approached the city gates, Lareine inched towards the end of the cart, which had no ceiling blocking the view. Ishgard was such a pretty city, she thought. It was truly a shame she couldn't stay. Soon she had forgotten herself to stare at the stonewalls, majestic towers and rising pillars looking high and mighty even in the middle of the worst possible weather.

Too late Lareine became aware of the situation, when she heard the cart driver talking to someone.

"Inspect away, ser knights", he laughed. "I've got nothing to hide. Just one passenger, but she didn't have luggage, so I don't think she has anything to hide either."

At the very moment Lareine noticed she was face to face with Varg. Before that she had only seen him in his cleric garb, or his hospital attire, or his more casual but elegant style he used at home. Never before had she seen him in full paladin armor, a long, white cloak, crown circlet and carrying a sword with engraved, flaming runes. She was so terrified she couldn't say or do anything. On the top of all her mouth dropped open on its own.

Varg just let out a deep sigh while furrowing his brow.

---> Part 6

[diredigression]

Introducing: Sole

Yep, my SoSu has a super creative name. Whatever. But here’s the start of her origin story. And it’s dark. Enjoy!

CW: some gore, minor character death

Terror.

The newscaster’s voice on the TV. Nate’s frantic commands. Shaun’s wails. Panicked cries of neighbors searching for loved ones. The mushroom cloud, as if plucked straight from a bad movie and pasted suddenly into the tranquil sky. The echoing boom like the vault door saying the end. Horror.

Cold. Stiff. Trapped. Strangers. Nate. Shaun. Boom (the end). Screams. Scar. Cold. Despair.

Cold, stiff, trapped. Ice on her fingers. Ice on her face. Then, free. Falling from confinement to the hard ground. How long? An instant, forever. No movement. Just death. The Ables, dead. The Whitfields, dead. Mr. Russell, dead.

Nate, dead.

Nate.

Shaun?

Skeletons. Skeletons everywhere. Everyone was dead.

Just me…it’s just me…I’m the sole survivor.

A skitter. Something was not dead. Something charging, biting, life amidst the silence.  Something–a dog-sized roach??? Bleeding, grab something, protection, a baton. Roach guts. More roaches. Swarming roaches. Guts on her baton, her boots, her suit.

A Pip-Boy on her wrist.

Sunlight, and wind, and blue sky, and death. Shock.

Five people in the ancient museum. Preston, Sturges, Marcy, Jun, Mama Murphy. Living people. People alive in this nuclear wasteland. Friends. Mama Murphy, the sweet grandmotherly woman who somehow knew about Shaun and held her as she cried. Marcy, grieving mother; Jun, grieving father. Preston, who asked her name–I’m…I’m the sole…

Then more people, a swarm, angry, screaming, shooting. Preston and the others, shooting. Something shoved into her hands–electronics on a board–a gun? They wanted her to shoot people? Sturges pushing her towards the stairs as the others shot, something about power armor and a minigun; obeying instinctively. Encased in metal, cold, stiff, trapped. Chasing the strangers out into the street. Boom. The strangers fled.

A nightmare made teeth and horns and laughably oversized claws, rank flesh in their midst, charging with unreal speed. Mama Murphy, the sweet grandmotherly woman who somehow knew about Shaun and held her as she cried, now broken on the ground and spilling more blood than her tiny body should hold. Marcy next, grieving mother, thrown and cracked open against a building. Then Jun, grieving father, now a widower, now charging the nightmare with an animalistic roar, now a spray of red. Then the nightmare looking into her eyes. The weight of the minigun trigger under a metal finger. The end. Nothing.

She wasn’t sure how long she had been awake. She assumed she must have slept, but she couldn’t summon the effort to care about when.

All she knew was that she had been working. Trying to make the place habitable, whatever that meant here. She and Codsworth cleaned the inside of what had once been a house, the neighbors’ house, people she probably had been friendly with before they were vaporized or had asphyxiated in that vault. She probably was supposed to care. But all she really cared about was how had they managed to let their house fall into such disarray? The missus must be so ashamed. The atrociously dirty floor, giant bug carcasses scattered throughout, door falling off the fridge. Not that the fridge worked anymore anyway. Codsworth tended to the maintenance of the doors and equipment, to the extent that they could be fixed, occasionally bringing furniture from neighboring houses, while she swept and scrubbed the floors and tables. 200 years abandoned or no, the state of the place was shameful. Preston had chosen the house for its convenient workshop. She had intended to insist on hosting them at her own home; she knew she had left it pristine. But she couldn’t actually make herself go to it. A wall had gone up in her mind around the idea, and something very quiet and deep had convinced her that trying to circumvent it wasn’t a good thing.

Not that she really believed it had been 200 years. That was silly. Cod’s real time clock hardware must’ve been damaged in the bombing. She hadn’t bothered asking her new companions either. She did believe that the bombs had fallen; she’d seen it, after all. At least, she could mostly convince herself of that. But 200 years? Incomprehensible.

The men worked outside. They patched the holes in the roof and the walls, trying to weatherproof the building. Well, Sturges did, anyway. She vaguely remembered Preston gathering them together in the Concord street, the three survivors, and shepherding them towards Sanctuary. Mama Murphy had wanted them there, after all. Had somehow known about her old home. Convenient, as she led them that way anyway. Where else felt safe? Upon arrival though, once bedrolls were laid out and he’d made sure everyone had eaten and had their injuries tended, once Sturges had repeatedly assured him that everyone was okay and there was nothing else he need do, that all the injuries would mend even though apparently they’d long since run out of stimpaks and she had none of her own–Preston had crashed hard. He’d spent the next…however long it had been…wrapped in his bedroll, empty eyes staring across the room, barely moving but to accept the food she diligently fed him.

Scrubbing floors, cooking, feeding recalcitrant eaters. Life was almost normal. Except she didn’t usually cook with bug and dog and these things Sturges called ��tatos” that were definitely not actual tomatoes. But that was life in wartime, learning to cook with whatever you had available. She was no stranger to this. She made do. It wasn’t like she could taste the food, anyway, and the same probably applied to Preston. Sturges had offered to cook and to feed Preston multiple times, but he had apparently finally realized that she only met this with mortification rather than appreciation, and he had finally stopped. Damned if she wasn’t still capable of doing her job, and how dare he imply otherwise.

They fell into routine, and eventually she began tracking time again. Wake, prep breakfast for the men and then herself. Clean whatever was next on the list. Prep lunch. More cleaning. Prep dinner. Haul water to the bathtub, as the running water wasn’t working. Take a bath. It was bad enough that she only had her vault suit to wear, day after day. She couldn’t stand the shame of being filthy around company, no matter how much water she had to haul. Go to bed, her in one room and the men in another. Sturges had tried to convince her to sleep in the same room, something about keeping watch and staying safe. But what was going to hurt her in the house? And god forbid she sleep in the same room with strange men.

Day after day, the routine continued. The house became less dirty and better walled. Cook, clean, wash, sleep. Cook, clean, wash, sleep.

Then one day, Preston returned to life. It was dinnertime. She was trying to spoonfeed Preston a vegetable stew, the dinner she was most comfortable making lately. It was hard to make herself feed it to someone when she knew it wasn’t salted, because apparently salt was an impossible ingredient to find here in the nuclear apocalypse. But she couldn’t taste the lack of salt, so she made herself pretend it was fine. They had to eat something or starve, after all.

It had been a hard day. Sturges had cobbled together a water purifier, somehow managing to scavenge supplies from across the town. By the cursing she had heard, it hadn’t been a pleasant task. Preston was being harder to feed than usual, starting to actively fight her instead of placidly accepting whatever she made him do.

Then he started sobbing, words slipping out between great, horrifying wails. “I can’t even f…freaking…eat right.”

She looked up for Sturges, frantic. She was vaguely aware that this wasn’t his job, she was supposed to be good at this, but she couldn’t bring the ability to mind. But Sturges was right there, taking Preston from her, cradling him against his chest. “Hey, now. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

“I can’t move. I can’t help you rebuild. I can’t even eat right.”

“Come on, there’s nothing to apologize for. You worry about you, and everything will take care of itself.”

“I’ve failed everyone who ever relied on me. I led them to Concord. I got them killed. They’re dead because of me.”

“You’ve been through a rough time, man. The worst. But it’s not your fault. You got us out of Quincy, you got us out of Lexington. You–you saved my life, man. I wouldn’t be alive if not for you. And you tried your damndest to save their lives too. That’s all any of us can do.”

“They’re all dead…”

Preston’s sobbing turned into sniffles, and Sturges held him and whispered gently. She slipped out of the room. This was no longer her duty.

[reiner-is-back-bitches]

Two Halves of a Whole~~ A Reiner Braun X OC Fanfic~~ #10~~ MAJOR SPOILERS

I woke up the next morning before dawn. Rayne was close to my chest, her arms tucked in. I have never seen her so peaceful. Her features were relaxed, her mouth wasn't turned down in a scowl and her forehead wasn't furrowed with worry. I smile at her. I was so glad she would never see me for what I really was. If I ever had to expose myself, it would be far away from her. I couldn't stand to think of what she'd say if she found out I was the Armored Titan. She started to stir in her sleep and I looked down at her. I was starting to worry she was having one of her nightmares.

Before we settled down for the night, I had asked her about it but she wouldn't tell me anything. I could understand that, some things are just too personal and I'd be a hypocrite if I started to go off on her about keeping secrets.

"Reiner," I heard her say. I looked back down at her but she was still asleep. I couldn't begin to understand why she would be saying my name in her sleep. Then it dawned on me, she was dreaming about me. I held her closer to me, taking in as much of her as I could. I couldn't hurt her, she finally had her guard down and I didn't want to be the reason that she had to build up walls again. I laid there with her, until the sky began to turn gray with the rising sun and her hazel eyes looked into mine.

/

Breaking down camp took a lot less time than I thought and before I knew it we were on our way back to base. Rayne seemed so much different today than yesterday. She was actually smiling and willing to talk to me about anything. I began to wonder if I was the cause. I had to be, maybe finally coming to terms with her feelings about me made her open up her world.

We got back to base and were of course the first ones to arrive. Rayne quickly ran to where the the commandant was standing and gave her salute. I knew she was explaining the situation of the wolf and deer and the commandant seemed to be impressed. Well, if he was he didn't show it. I also notice him pointing out the bruised side of her face. I wonder if I would be punished for striking a fellow cadet out of anger. When she came back to me, she seemed excited.

"The commandant commended us on thinking of our fellow cadets, he wasn't too pleased when I told him that I fought that wolf and got wounded in the process but he said it just goes to show what some cadets are capable of." I gave her a confused look.

"You didn't tell him," I felt my cheeks get red in embarrassment. "about our fight?" She gently ran a finger over my hand.

"No, the official story about my face is that I hit a tree when the wolf lunged. That's all anyone will know." I smiled at her and she smiled back, turning away. I threw down my gear and started to unload the carcasses to take them to the commandant. I watched her head to the far end of the small clearing to set up her tent. It was her idea to set up our tents on opposite sides so we could avoid unwanted attention. After a while, more cadets started to arrive and I notice Rayne walk up to Mikasa. I saw Mikasa cradle Rayne's face in her hands and start asking about the bruise. Rayne playfully shook her off and began to hug her and Armin. I couldn't help but grin at her and they way she started talking with her friends. She was a different person, and I think I was, too.

xxxxxx

I couldn't put my finger on it but something was different with Reiner. He talked to people with a light in his eyes. Until I found out what was going on, I couldn't trust him. He went into the woods with Rayne and when they came back they were both different, too different. Reiner's cheeks seemed to be slightly bruised, his nose a bit swollen and Rayne also had a huge bruise on her face.

I know what made that bruise. I didn't believe the whole wolf story. I've known Reiner long enough to know that he doesn't get angry easily but when he did, no one was safe. He slapped her. She made him mad, did something or said something and she paid for it.

So why was she still sneaking glances at him? Why would he grin at her when he thought no one was watching? I began to think about what this could mean. Either, they just came to friendly terms or something worse happened out there. My guess of course, was the latter.

Reiner is a damn fool. Is he so willing to let everything that we have been working so hard for just fall apart? Is he actually making friends with these devils?

"Hey, Bertolt." I looked down and saw Rayne. She was offering me a bowl of some stew. "Here you go," she smiled at me and I gave a smile back.

"Thank you. That was a really cool story about how you took out that wolf. And you got an injury to go with it." I pointed to her face and she just laughed.

"It's not so bad, luckily it was just this bruise and not something more serious." I flashed another fake smile and really looked at this girl.

Who the hell was she? How was she able to steer Reiner, one of Marley's most loyal warriors, off his course? What was she playing at?

"Well, I better finish handing out soup to everyone. Don't hesitate to get seconds alright? There's plenty." She smiled as she turned away from me and as soon as I saw her back, my frown returned. I began to scan all the faces in my view for Reiner. As I suspected he was staring at her, smiling at how she was going around talking to everyone, almost like he was proud.

He saw me staring at him and his face fell. I gave him a look, one that I knew he understood perfectly.

Tonight I was going to get to the bottom of this.

I'm sure he would hate for some tragic accident to befall Rayne.

xxxxxx

That night everyone went to bed with a full belly and we had Rayne and Reiner to thank for it. Eren couldn't get enough of her wolf story, begging for every single detail. She was happy to oblige to Eren and anyone else who asked. She must've told the story over a hundred times. It was nice to see her smile like that. I had known Rayne since that fateful day in Shiganshina. Despite being like family to Eren, Armin and myself, she never fully let her guard down almost as if she was afraid we would turn our backs on her or worse, betray her triust.

I kept remembering back to after everyone had a bowl of soup and were gathered in groups to eat. Reiner and Rayne sat apart from each other, but they constantly flitted their eyes towards each other, checking on one another. While Rayne was busy telling Eren the story for the tenth time, I stood and walked to were Reiner was sitting by himself. He greeted me as I approached, scooting over a bit to make room for me to sit next to him.

I noticed a change in Reiner as well. He had always been well liked by all of us, but there was something different. Throughout our training, it seemed like Reiner was just going through the motions, even when it came to interacting with his fellow cadets. Now, he looked people in the eyes when he spoke to them, he started conversations and his laughs were genuine.

"I can't thank you enough, Reiner." I said when I sat down. "You don't know how happy it makes me to see Rayne finally living." He turned to me, but I kept watching Rayne. She was showing Eren, Connie, Marco and Daz how she stabbed the wolf when it lunged and how she ended up with the bruise on her face. "I've been trying to get through to her for years. I'm amazed at how quickly you were able to get her to open up." I turned my head and looked into his eyes. He didn't hide the blush in his cheeks and I saw in his face that the feelings Rayne had were not one sided.

Reiner cared about her, too.

"I care a lot about her." He said, turning away. "I just want her to be happy." I smiled and stood.

"Like I said, thank you."

/

After Rayne was finally able to get to bed, she came into my tent.

"Mikasa, you awake?" She asked, despite already being inside.

"Yes, are you alright? Is your face hurting you?" She brought her hand to cover her cheek.

"No, it's fine. I just wanted to tell you about what happened in the woods. With Reiner." I sat up. "We spent the whole first few hours together fighting. We argued and yelled, it was a nightmare. Then, something happened. I-I kissed him." My eyes widen slightly.

"You kissed him?" I asked, slightly surprised. I knew about the time Reiner kissed her, I practically set that up. But she had been so upset by it, she was shaking when I checked up on her. I had to console her most of the night, she couldn't sleep otherwise. The fact that she willingly kissed him, shocked me.

"I couldn't help it. Like always, you were right. I care about him, quite a bit actually." She looked down at her bare feet. She had scrapes and bruises all over her legs and arms, clearly the extent of her and Reiner's fighting. "I just wanted to know why he made me feel the way I do. He said he felt the same way. I decided that," She took a shaky breath and I saw tears falling. "I decided that it was pointless to walk through life full of anger and mistrust. If I'm to feel anything, I want to feel what it's like to love and trust and be with someone other than you and the guys." She wiped her face before continuing. "I'm going to start letting people in. Not just Reiner but Sasha, Connie, Bertolt, Marco, Christa and even Jean. Everyone who has ever tried to show me kindness, when I was too blinded by hatred to appreciate it." I smiled at her and took her into my arms, giving her a huge embrace.

"Rayne, I'm so happy for you, and Reiner. I can sense what's going on with you two and I think it's great. I know it won't be for too long but I think the important thing is that you two were able to be together at all. You've come so far and I'm so proud of you." She smiled at me again, the tears flowing from her eyes.

"Thank you," She started to stand and I returned to my bed. "Well, I'll let you get to bed. We still have a long week ahead of us." She left my tent and I laid down, hearing her talking to someone outside. "Sorry, Bertolt. I didn't see you there. Good night."

"Good night, Rayne." I heard him say. I closed my eyes and quickly drifted off to sleep.