#sky and time both did the gut check rock challenge

[ok-pop-1]

a day by gut check rock

[gumnut-logic]

Callisto (Voyage - Bit 2)

Prologue Incident - Bit 1 | Bit 2 Fallout - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 Voyage - Bit 1 | Bit 2

As I continue to write the Prologue, have a little Lee Taylor and Jeff with some Johnny and Scott on the side.

As always, many, many thanks to @tsarinatorment​ @scribbles97​ and @janetm74​ for the ongoing support, as well as my technical advisor @onereyofstarlight​ for the geek out fest on the weekend ::hugs you all::

I hope you enjoy this. I’m certainly enjoying the challenge :D

-o-o-o-

Jeff stared after his son for a long moment. Emotion swirled in his head and tangled with his stomach. That lightspeed jump did mess with his innards more than he would admit.

But Virgil’s words messed him up even more.

What weren’t they telling him? What had happened to Scott while he was gone?

He had read a good percentage of the mission reports and backtracked through Tracy Industries’ history over that eight years. Scott’s conduct was exemplary. He couldn’t be prouder. Both organisations had flourished under his sons’ management, Scott being the major driving force, but his younger sons stepping in where needed.

Hell, even Gordon had dabbled in aquaculture and Tracy Industries was now a major player on that front.

Something soured in his gut that had nothing to do with lightspeed travel. Perhaps he needed to be a little more honest with himself. Maybe things had gone so well, that in truth, his return wasn’t really needed.

Scott was brilliant, his brothers…hell, Jeff was ever so proud. His sons were everything. They had accomplished so much.

But what did that leave for Jeff?

He cursed under his breath, disgusted with himself. His natural competitive tendencies did not need to be deployed against his own children.

But that vacant feeling of loss and lack of purpose swelled. He hadn’t even thought about not going on this mission. He had grabbed it like a lifeline and now, somehow, he had managed to alienate those brilliant young sons and caused pain and worry where he had no intention.

“Jeff? Where the hell are you?”

Lee.

Despite himself, Jeff smiled.

Pushing off from the bed, he floated through the door and into the corridor. Lee was expertly manoeuvring down one wall, his experience showing in every movement. “I have to say that this baby of yours definitely hits the spot. I’ll have two for the Mars colony, please.”

Jeff snorted. “Get in line. The GDF are already on my back.”

Lee pulled up alongside. “You gonna give them one?”

“I doubt it.” He sighed. “Val is ready to vouch, but from what I’ve read from the last eight years…I don’t think they can be trusted.”

“Then what are you going to do?” They drifted down the corridor towards the mess. “This technology is a great step forward.”

“Yeah. So much power, Lee. I’ve worried about the Thunderbirds getting into the wrong hands. This….hell…Brains and Michael make a formidable team.”

“Your boys make a formidable team, Jeff. You should be proud.”

“I am.”

Lee pulled him to a halt with a hand. “Then what the hell are you doing out here, Jeff? Gerry had me on the pipeline frantic.”

Jeff blinked. “Gerry?”

“The swimming one.”

“Oh, Gordon?”

Lee waved a hand dismissively. “Yeah, whatever. But he was upset. Said you were trying to kill yourself.”

“What?!”

“Said your health wasn’t up to a long space flight. I know you know better than that, Colonel.” Blue eyes pinned him.

Oh, for the love of-

“I’m fine, Lee.”

“Bullshit. You may not be using that cane of yours, but I saw your medical charts when you got back. You fried your bones good, and your circulation has seen better days. Don’t think I’m an idiot. Gerry may be the excitable one, but he’s not dumb. Hell, even I can see Vinnie and Steve ain’t happy either.”

Jeff stared at him, caught between outrage that his best friend still couldn’t remember his sons’ names and the thought that Lee was also ganging up on him along with those sons.

“I am perfectly capable of handling this voyage. It is short. It is safe.”

Lee snorted with derision. “I know you know that there is nothing ‘safe’ about any space voyage, Jeff. Hell, you’re the one who taught me that. What are you playing at?”

That got his back up. “What am I playing at? Berry and Ju are missing, Lee.”

“Don’t you trust your boys?”

“I trust them!”

“Then let them do their jobs. You’ve done enough.”

Jeff glared at him. “I don’t see you retiring your space legs.”

“I didn’t go missing for eight years and fry my bones. You don’t have to do this. Your boys will find Berry and Ju. I’ve seen them in action. You should trust them.”

Jeff’s shoulders dropped. “I do.” It was an exhale. But... “Lee, I have to. I can’t sit on the sidelines anymore.”

Blue eyes stared at him, appraising. They weren’t unlike his eldest son’s eyes and probably shared the gene through Lucille.

The thought of his wife clenched his heart like it always did. Lee didn’t look much like his sister, but there were traces.

“Well, you’ve argued your ass out here. Looks like you’ve pissed half your family off in the process. I’d tread carefully. That eldest of yours looks ready to chew iron.”

Jeff grunted.

Lee reached out and grabbed an arm. “They’re good boys.” A swallow. “Lucy would be very, very proud.”

It was targeted and it hit perfectly. His throat tightened just a little. “I know.”

No more than breath. “I know.”

-o-o-o-

“I want to know why.”

John looked up from his tablet to see Scott floating in the doorway.

The astronaut knew this was coming. Hence his retreat to Thunderbird Five for a ‘systems check’.

“Because Dad needs this.” He turned back to his tablet, poked the device and shut down the scan he was running.

Scott pushed off the door frame and pivoted to a vertical stance - as a commanding posture as he could get in zero-g.

John raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment, forcing himself to relax in his partially seated position. He knew his brother was unhappy with him and he understood why. So, the question was a pertinent one.

“Dad does not need more illness and that is exactly where this is leading.”

“We won’t be out here that long.”

“How do you know? We don’t know what has happened? We won’t know fully until we are on site.”

John let his brother’s ire wash over him. “Scott, what are you going to do the day they say you can no longer fly?”

Blue eyes stared at him a moment. “What has that got to do with anything?”

John’s lips thinned. “Deny it all you want, but you know exactly what I mean.” He held his brother’s glare. “Dad has been grounded for nearly two years. Put yourself in his place. How do you think you would feel?”

He could see the inner turmoil on his big brother’s face. He hated going against Scott. It didn’t happen often, but it did happen and each time it hurt because it felt so wrong. Someone had to stand up for Dad in this and John feared the day he would be in his father’s place. To not be able to go into space. To never be able to see the stars unfettered by atmosphere again…he dreaded it. Just like he knew Scott dreaded losing his wings.

It was inevitable and they would both fight it as long as they could.

Just like their father.

But understanding didn’t make it any easier from a son’s perspective either. John knew in intimate detail exactly what his father’s health issues were. He empathised with him in ways that perhaps only Alan amongst his brothers could possibly understand. If he wasn’t careful, this was his future, too. Perhaps not as severe, perhaps not quite the same, but the risks were there.

His father’s cane reminded him every time he saw it.

Scott had already changed his rota on Five, Alan standing in more often, John on solid ground enough for cursed gravity to keep his systems running as they should.

Virgil had become hypervigilant as well, medical checks increased. He had once caught Dad’s chart up on display right next to his own, Virgil’s eyes comparing symptoms, obviously worried towards preventing issues before they happened in his little brother.

It had been a taxing couple of years.

“Okay, you’ve made your point.” It was grudging. “But it doesn’t remove the fact that his health is at risk. After all he’s been through…he’s been hurt enough.”

“Him or us?”

“Excuse me?”

“We have all been through hell and back. This isn’t just about Dad, Scott. I know. I’m just as scared as you.” He was, but he was shunting it away. He couldn’t afford it. “But this is who he is. You know that. He’s not going to wrap himself in a blanket, sit in a chair and rock his life away. If he did, he wouldn’t be Dad.” He blinked. “How do you see your twilight years? Are you going to slow down any time soon?”

“John-“

“He’s got all of us. He’s not alone out here. We’ll keep him safe.”

Blue eyes continued to stare at him, but there were no more words for a long time.

John simply stared back, calm and waiting.

“I am so angry at you.” The words slipped from his brother’s lips in frustration.

“I know.” John tilted his head just slightly. “Because you know I’m right.”

Scott got angry a lot, but he was rarely blinded by it. He couldn’t afford to be. And while Virgil tackled their big brother in his own way, John, in the few times Scott turned to him in this kind of situation, found that waiting him out with calm words usually worked. Not always, sometimes his brother just exploded more. But this time, this time John knew he was right and that Scott would understand, if he would listen.

His brother’s lips thinned, obviously with reluctance. “I want a medical monitor on him at all times. I want Five trained on him at all times.”

John arched an eyebrow, reached over and thumbed a switch. Their father’s vitals flickered into all their holographic glory. “Virgil already beat you to it. Wouldn’t let him on board without it.”

Those eyes tracked the readouts but Scott didn’t comment. “Keep an eye on him.”

John sighed and picked up his tablet again. As if he would do anything else. “Just like I do with all of you. They don’t call me the ‘Eye in the Sky’ for nothing.”

A grunt and Scott moved back towards the door. John poked at his tablet and resumed the scan he had been running. It wasn’t often humans were in this chunk of space and he planned to record everything he could.

If he was non-verbally dismissing his brother, it was on purpose. Scott needed to process and John was not needed for that.

And John had work to do before they jumped again.

He didn’t notice his brother leave.

-o-o-o-

Next

[essays-for-breakfast]

Lancelot of the Lake - Chapter One

As hinted at, this creature now finally sees the light of day. Don’t I love my ability to pick the most ambitious concepts for my stories. Further chapters will most likely go directly to my ao3 account here. I don’t want to spam you.

Day One: The Lake

Lancelot sold himself to the devil three times. Evil took on different forms when it stretched out its hand and so did the contracts he signed. Once a word of consent, once a slash, and once a promise. He would later fail to tell where he had missed a crossroad or where he could have taken a different turn. Only one path stretched ahead of him. Other stories will tell of his prowess and his heroic deeds, but few dare to reveal how he acquired his strength. When Lancelot stepped into the rain outside his home, his choice was made, and he took up the pen to sign and seal his fate.

“Hey Master, be careful. You see I wanna —”

The rest of Lancelot’s words remained unspoken as a sound, loud as a roaring thunder, and a flash of light startled him. His heart missed a beat, and he needed to shield his eyes from the brightness. But Jericho’s hand held onto his, and the warmth and familiarity of her battle-hardened skin gave him the necessary strength to make another step forward without seeing the way. If he wanted to attain the same strength as his father, he couldn’t lose it over noise and a little light show.

So instead of listening to the instincts of a child, Lancelot pressed onward until the white disappeared, and the world took on a new form.

Some higher might had replaced the rainy hills outside of Benwick with the coast of a vast lake. Its surface shimmered under an unnatural sun, but not a single wave rippled the water. Everything was still. No birds sung, no buzzing of Fairy wings sounded through the trees, even Lancelot’s breaths seemed to disappear in the great silence of this place.

“Woah, this must be an entirely different realm,” Jericho said. “I bet the people who vanished, including that merchant from yesterday, were all sent to this place through these gateways in the rain. That explains why no one can get a trace on them.”

“But what good does it do to have all these folks here? And where are they?” Lancelot asked. “I can’t hear them.”

His gaze skipped from left to right, in search for something that wasn’t there. The lake and its surroundings emitted quietness to the point where the air stiffened under the load. Criminal scums might be hiding out of sight in preparation for an ambush. What did Jericho always say about combat against multiple foes? Use their numbers against them. When they don’t coordinate their attacks, you can control the flow of battle to only face one opponent at a time.

Right. Lancelot had his spear with him, and he and Master would take on any lowly criminal without breaking a sweat. His father definitely wouldn’t break a sweat.

They moved along the shore for some time, always in anticipation of an attack. Lancelot’s fingers, wrapped around the shaft of his makeshift spear, cramped, and he reminded himself to ease his grip. A desperate grip only leads to an untimely loss as Jericho liked to lecture him. So he kept his hands relaxed and his eyes open as he scanned the shore to his left and the sparse undergrowth to his right for enemy signs. Nothing. If other humans or Fairies had visited this lake, they had left behind an annoyingly small number of trails. But Lancelot nevertheless placed one step after the other and continued the search. He and Jericho had come this far, farther than any of King Meliodas’ or King Arthur’s attempts at tracking down the missing humans, and to turn back now would equal a colossal disgrace. Adults didn’t run from a challenge.

Quick, come here…

The unnatural sun with its pale light refused to move across the sky, and without clouds to disrupt the monotony, Lancelot soon lost his sense of time. His stomach growled, and Jericho sent him an empathetic smile that failed to reach her eyes. She navigated through the scree banks with great care to avoid unnecessary noise, and her weapon remained unsheathed.

Time ran through Lancelot’s hands like water, and Benwick moved further and further away. He contemplated a look back, but never followed through on the idea. Nothing lay behind them but the shore of the lake. Only the way forward mattered, after all, he had a mission to fulfill.

After who-knew-how-long, Lancelot and Jericho stumbled into the first sign to confirm they hadn’t been treading on the same spot. And the first sign of human activity.

“You think that the people who were send here before us built this boat, Master?”

“I’m not sure. It looks too old. And too unsafe if you ask me.” Jericho tapped the rotten plank of the boat’s side with her boot, and a moan that inspired little trust escaped the belly of the wooden construct. “Maybe we should go back…”

Here. Come here.

Lancelot turned his head. The lake glistened in the sun. Harmless. But not without secrets. He had heard the same voice before, its whispered promises had rung in his ears when he had woken from his dream and when he had approached the gate in the rain. A constant tugging in his gut pulled him towards the lake and its depths.

Here…

“We can’t give up now!” he said. “I bet the boat can bring us to where we need to go.”

Jericho’s heart overflowed with doubt. Her internal screams to flee echoed through Lancelot’s head, and he pinched his arm to get his heart-reading ability to stop. With little success. “And where would that be?”

“The center of the lake. I’m sure of it.”

Based on sight alone, nothing suggested that anything awaited them in the middle of the lake, where the water ran deepest and the creatures below the surface held the most power. But Lancelot needed to go there. The call originated from the lake, and if anyone knew the answers to this place or the series of disappearances, the voice would.

Jericho gnawed at her lip. She seemed oblivious to the voice, and if she felt a fraction of the pull urging Lancelot towards the lake, she battled its force with blind vehemence. “But you have to stay behind me at all times.”

“That’s not fair! I can fight!”

“You can stay back and let me do the fighting should we run into trouble. Ban will end me if I let anything happen to you.”

Lancelot kicked a stone with enough force to propel the innocent victim of his outburst fifty yards across the lake until it went under. What did all his training matter if Jericho didn’t let him put his experience to use? She would still sit in Benwick without him, she had no reason to treat him like a child in need of protection. Could she not see the progress he had made over the past five years?

“Hey, Lance, look at me.” The softness in Jericho’s voice compelled Lancelot to face her instead of his feet. “When I was your age, I wanted to grow up as quickly as possible too. But because I didn’t stop to think, I ran headfirst into trouble after trouble. I was insufferable. And I needed others to drag me out of the mess I got myself into. It’s okay to rely on others for a change, no matter how old you are. And last time I checked, I got a master title to boast with while you don’t, so my word is your law.”

With a grin to undermine the seriousness of her tone, she helped him shove the boat from the shore into shallow water where it whipped up and down without a sound. Lancelot jumped into the boat with an excess of energy and leaned from left to right to increase the rocking until he nearly capsized. He had never ridden a boat before; in Benwick, no one saw the use in such a mode of transportation when one could fly to the other side of any river in a fraction of the time a boat would take. And Lancelot, as one of the few exceptions to the rule, had stayed away from bodies of water deeper than he was tall. In this regard, Elaine knew no mercy.

But his mother wasn’t here to lecture him, and Jericho had to admit that Lancelot could row the boat across the lake faster than she could.

After a few failed attempts during which Lancelot rowed in the opposite direction of where he wanted to go, he found a rhythm with the paddle and steered the boat at an urgent but even pace. A childish grin almost found its way onto his lips before he thought better of himself. Jericho stood at the front of the boat, hunched forward and with her left hand clawed into the railing. The other hand held onto her sword.

Then, from one moment to the next, the vast view of the lake and the outskirts of forests and mountain ridges disappeared. In their stead, a thick mist hung over the lake, heavy with foreboding, empty of sound. White fingers slithered past Jericho’s boots and reached for Lancelot’s face. He fastened the collar of his tunic. The head of his spear collected drops of condensed water, and the hairs on his arms stood up on edge.

“This can’t be normal, not even in a realm as cursed as this,” Jericho said. “I can’t see a thing in this pea soup.”

A jolt went through the boat, and Lancelot’s teeth smacked against one another. He paddled water in this and that direction, but the boat remained stuck with such a defiance that not even his advanced strength made a difference. When he risked a look over the railing, Lancelot stared into water so dark, its surface didn’t reflect the sky or his face. Shadows twisted down there, ghosts and memories of days long gone. Who knew how deep the well went.

“If we’ve run aground, that better means there’s land we can stand on.” With a look towards Lancelot, Jericho added, “Stay here.”

And with a hearty jump, she abandoned the safety of the boat. The water sloshed around her knees, and after a moment of panicked unbalance, she found her footing on the muddy ground below the surface. She helped Lancelot out of the boat, but when his feet touched the water, the contact drove all air out of his lungs. A feeling, both warm and cold, flooded him, a sense of insignificance next to a power far greater than his own. When he had first met the Seven Deadly Sins, their combined magic forces had rendered him speechless, but this lake outclassed them by a tenfold. Something far more ancient and formidable resided in these depths. The lake lured him with a language he did not understand, words he could not make out, but the sound rung like music and absolute cacophony in his head, pure and impure at the same time.

Jericho eyed him from the side, and Lancelot tore his gaze away from the water. But his mind could not forget what his eyes refused to look at.

Hand in hand, they advanced to where the boat had hesitated to take them. Blades of reed rocked in and out of view past the wafts of mist, but no wind brushed across the lake to move them. When they reached a gentle incline, Lancelot’s feet reemerged out of the black water, and he allowed himself a sigh, despite the risk of appearing weak in front of Jericho.

And as the shores lay behind them, the mist retreated and revealed stone buildings scattered on the island in the middle of the lake. Half-decayed castles, infected with moss, cast their shadows over them, towers sprouted from the ground without sense or logic, and archways that defied gravity stretched to the sky. The structures seemed to have grown rather than stem from the hands of human architects. One gust of wind could send everything tumbling down.

Lancelot increased his grip around Jericho’s hand, and she offered an encouraging squeeze.

Here, Lancelot, heeereee…

The path they followed through the ruins took a sharp turn and ended in a rotunda of gravel a handful of steps later. And at the end of the way, at the center of the island, the lake, and this world as a whole stood a creature ripped out of the foulest depths of Purgatory.

Their mere presence put a pressure on his skull that made Lancelot sick as their fingers clawed at the door to his thoughts with endless screeching and shrieking. The shape of the creature suggested a female, but she was neither human nor Fairy, nor a member of any of the other clans. Like a shadow she wavered in the air, untouchable but a physical part of this world nonetheless, able to shape her surroundings to her will and capable of merging with their darkness. Her hair and black dress curled around her figure like snakes with their own mind, like hands eager to grab what the depths of the creature’s heart desired. If evil had a face, it could only look like the featureless depths of the shadow’s head.

Lancelot forced his muscles to move, recalled his training, and flung his spear at the figure. In the same instance, Jericho sent forward shards of ice with her magical ability, but none of the projectiles hit their target. The creature’s darkness swallowed them all, and, as if she had tasted a delicious slice of meat pie, her uncounted hands reached out in ecstasy.

A sound escaped the shadow as she began to laugh. “Two fighters for the price of one. My master is truly generous today.”

“Did you kidnap all the humans who disappeared across Britannia?” Next to the shadow’s voice, Lancelot sounded small and powerless, even in his own head.

Jericho tried to shift in front of him, but he stepped past her. He needed to show strength, be an adult, then the creature would have to answer his questions and solve the case. And then surely his father would praise him, right?

“All that happens is in accordance to the will of Chaos,” the shadow replied. “He has brought you to me, my dear. Where else his plan may lead you remains to be seen.”

Despite Lancelot’s protests, Jericho shoved him behind her back and faced the shadow. “I don’t know what hell you crept out of, but you won’t lay a finger on him!”

“Oh.” The shadow chuckled, a low, disgusting sound that reverberated in Lancelot’s gut. “And you intend to protect him?”

“I made a promise to the man I love and respect the most. I don’t plan to let him down.”

A battery of ice shards appeared out of thin air behind Jericho, each of them the size of a human arm and sharp enough to pierce steel. The cold air bit into the skin of Lancelot’s face. And in the same instance the shards shot forward, Jericho charged at the shadow.

Lancelot had seen her fight in training before, but never with killing intent, and the precision with which she wielded both sword and magic ability disabled him from doing anything other than gape. The entire time she trained him, she had withheld her true skill. He could only hope to learn a fraction of her abilities.

While the shadow let her hands deal with the frontal attack, Jericho conjured a new set of shards behind the creature. Forced to split her attention, the shadow disposed of the second wave the same way she had the first, but the diversion bought Jericho the time she needed to close the gap. She hacked through the wavering ropes faster than the hands could grab her, spinning, turning, dashing out of the path of retaliatory attacks, always one step ahead of the enemy.

Lancelot scanned his surroundings for a weapon, but aside from a collection of stones, nothing caught his eye. But before he could lunge for a sharpened rock, and before Jericho could reach the shadow, one of the hands coiled around her right wrist and twisted flesh and bone. Jericho muffled a scream, and her sword dropped to the ground with a sharp clang. The fear in her heart overflowed, the regret, the agony, the face of a young man she called brother.

Lancelot forgot the stone and dashed forward to tackle the shadow barehanded. The ropes caught him before he managed more than a few steps. His muscles protested as he tugged at his restraints, but his above human strength struggled against the hands to no avail.

The shadow moved closer until its faceless head hovered inches away from Jericho. More ropes wrapped themselves around her limps and neck, and the greedy hands caressed her skin. Ban’s arrogant smirk flashed in her memory, his drunk smile, his sorrowful stare into the middle distance, and the better life he had opened for her, a chance to find everything she dreamed of except for the one adoration she failed to let go. Jericho’s hazy eyes found Lancelot’s.

And then, the shadow swallowed her whole.

“MASTER!”

With every ounce of strength left in him, Lancelot tore free of the shadow’s grip, dove for a roll, and returned to his feet with Jericho’s sword in hand. He tensed his fingers to stop them from shaking, and in a blind charge, he closed in on the shadow. She would pay, she had to atone for this, nothing else mattered as long as she died.

If she took notice of his efforts, she made no move to counter them. Instead, her hands stood still and tasted the air. The fragments of Jericho’s memory whirled through Lancelot’s head. With one jump he was above the shadow and aimed for her neck.

But instead of flesh, his blade tasted air as the shadow recoiled into the earth. Nothing remained of her other than the aching at the back of his head.

Dazed and shell-shocked, Lancelot dropped to his knees where the shadow had hovered. His nails dug into the dirt.

He had failed. Jericho was gone. The sound of her heart, a blizzard of emotions, sometimes loud, more often controlled – snapped away. He had insisted to investigate the disappearance of the humans, but instead of a lead, he had found an enemy capable of crushing him with no more than the turn of a hand. Jericho had trusted his instincts, she had followed him into the rain and to the center of the lake, and for this the shadow had eaten her. While Lancelot had stood aside, unable to change the outcome of the fight, unable to help or even avenge her. The small stones hidden within the crumps of dirt cut into his palms. Hot tears streamed down his face.

What a lousy prince he was.

The shadow reemerged and blocked the pale sunlight until her darkness absorbed Lancelot’s small silhouette.

“So much light,” she said, “and so much darkness. So full of contradicting emotions…”

Lancelot aimed a last weak swing at the enemy that never met its target.

“What are you?” he asked between two pathetic sobs.

The shadow placed a hand on his cheek. His mother did the same whenever she comforted him after an unsuccessful training session.

“You, Lancelot, can call me Lady of the Lake.”

[capricornus-rex]

A Legacy Begun (9)

Chapter 9: A Padawan’s Trial | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: After a long time of running and fighting, you and Cal decided to finally settle down after all these years to raise a family. However, it was never a life of peace whilst the shadow of the Empire looms over your heads.

Prompt/s in play: Anon prompt (found in Chapter 1 link) + fic idea

A/N: Didn’t have the time to switch on my PS4 just to customize a saber lol so I went to saberforge.com and used their 3D Saber Builder instead. Here’s what i made for Cassidy Kestis’s saber!

Also posted in AO3

Tags: Scruffy! Cal Kestis, Daddy! Cal Kestis, Adult! Cal Kestis, Jedi Family, Jedi Offspring, Force-Sensitive Offspring, Settling Down, Rebel Alliance

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 | Previous: Part 8 | Next: Part 10 | Masterlist

9 of ?

1 BBY

Your slender fingers wove Cassidy’s bright, scarlet locks into tight, chunky braids. You hummed her favorite lullaby—a force of habit—as you secured the end of the braid with a band. She skipped towards the mirror hanging on the wall and let her fingertips glide over her hair.

“Is that how you like it?”

“Yes, Mommy, thank you!”

“You’re welcome, darling,” you received your thanks in full payment of a kiss and hug from Cassidy. “Go fetch your things now. Don’t forget your jacket, okay?”

“Okay!” she hopped down from her bed and started rummaging through her cabinets for stuff that she’ll bring in the trip.

You excused yourself and exited her bedroom, Cassidy was too excited to coherently reply to your permission. The ten-year-old’s heart was racing, her mind imagined so many things that could possibly happen, and she began visualizing what the place would look like.

Due to her excitement, she didn’t realize that she had taken a bit of her time in packing. She had gone through a raincheck of the contents of her backpack thrice now. She hastily slung the bag on her shoulders and snatched her crumpled poncho lying on a pile.

“Coming, Mom!” she announced, speeding out of her bedroom to join her parents at the door.

She slipped her both her hands into you and Cal’s hands, the three of you left your homestead and trekked towards the Mantis waiting a few meters away from the house.

The ship’s entry ramp unfolded, Cassidy lets go of your hands when you’ve reached a certain distance between the ship, her backpack bobbed up and down in every step as she ran towards the luxury cruiser.

“Aunt Cere! Aunt Merrin!” Cassidy squeaked happily, attempting to fit both women in her scrawny arms.

“Cassidy! Look how big you’ve gotten!” Cere chuckled, her hand patted Cassidy’s head and then hovered it to the empty space to emphasize the girl’s height.

“Any longer and you might just out-tall me—if that’s even a word!” Greez came in waddling into the scene. He had all four of his arms open for Cassidy and she gladly threw herself into them.

“I grew three inches this month!” she bragged, then proceeded to tease him by tussling the non-existent hair on his head to further establish her taking the lead in this height race she has with the Lateron.

The captain grumbled, uncertain to the crew whether he was joking around or is genuinely frustrated that the once-tiny Kestis kid is getting taller and taller each month. You and Cal eventually caught up with the crew, greeting each other with embraces and claps on the shoulders or backs.

“She’s quite excited,” Cere’s eyes rolled to the side, referring to Cassidy who was now busy checking out the terrarium.

“Yeah, let’s hope the entire ordeal doesn’t deter her,”

“She’ll be fine, [y/n],”

Revisiting the engine room and then spotting the lone white cot on the side brought back a lot of memories, it’s as though a long time has passed since you and Cal slept here. It had become an extra room since the three of you have made a home by the forest in Zera III.

You approached the now-empty workbench, you weren’t used to seeing it bare, having only the non-slip mat left—it was eventually returned to its former, cluttered glory when Cal settled the toolboxes specifically for this trip.

“Everything she’ll ever need is right here,”

“Where is she?”

“With Greez at the cockpit,”

“Oh no, is she pestering him to teach her how to drive?” the idea seemed rich, you’re already imagining the Lateron dealing with the redheaded handful that is your daughter.

Cal’s mockingly pensive look and a quick glance to the direction of the door meant “yes.” The two of you laughed among yourselves, Greez’s shouts from the cockpit amplified the comedy that was playing out in your heads. When the laughter died down, you surveyed the quarters.

“Is it just me or did this room just got narrower?”

“Feels pretty much the same to me,”

“Yeah, brings back memories,”

Cal leaned closer to you, his warm breath blew on your shoulder and the hairs on your nape pricked up.

“Oh yeah, which ones?” he purred suggestively.

“Very funny,”

He teased you some more, brushing away the hair over your shoulders to expose your neck for his lips to brush against.

“Cal, not while she’s here,”

“We can always lock the door—say it suddenly jammed,” he nibbled your earlobe as his hand searched for yours to intertwine with.

He continued to suckle your neck, a weak yelp escaped your throat—his eyebrows flicked up upon hearing it, his lips curled in satisfaction as he continued prod the tip of his tongue to the crook of your shoulder. Your arm began to move by itself, reaching for the railing as support—you knew what your body was trying to make you do, with your only weapon being your willpower, your hand gripped the edge of the table instead.

“Well? How about it, love?” he sniggered.

You didn’t know why it pained you to pull yourself away, just when your body was beginning to heat up. You twirled to face him, looked him in the eye and gathered the guts to tell it to his face.

“Might I remind you that we have our daughter on board,” you steeled your voice, when you saw the puppy eyes being deployed, you bit your lip and fiddled with the buckle of Cal’s armor. “But later—when she’s sound asleep.”

A glint in Cal’s eye shone brighter than the white dwarf star found in Zera III’s sky. Amused, you stood on the tips of your toes to plant a tender kiss on his lips. You playfully clapped his chest with both of your hands before walking out of the quarters.

You switched on the holotable and typed the coordinates of Ilum. The message reflected on Greez’s computer and he charted the Mantis to its course.

“Now en route to Ilum!” the Lateron captain announced.

The family lounged in the holotable couch, Cassidy knelt behind Merrin in an attempt to braid her platinum hair which has grown dramatically over time—the length had already reached the center of her spine—and bantered with her father.

“Hey Dad, did you and Mom go to the Gathering together when you were younger?” Cassidy finally secured the twisted braid with a pin fastened to the back of Merrin’s head.

You and Cal exchanged glances, something warranted your eyes to meet. Then Cal quickly turned back to his daughter who now sat beside him on the sofa.

“No, we didn’t, unfortunately,”

“Would’ve been great if you did!”

“Yeah,” Cal trailed off, then returned his glance to you, a rather shy smile traced along his lips. “It would.”

The Mantis’s speed had slowed down, indicating your arrival in the planet’s orbit. Cassidy rushed to the cockpit. In her excitement, she stood between the seats, leaning closer and closer until she gets a better view of the ice-white planet that filled the roundness of her black pupils.

“Whoa, kid! Settle down, we’ll get closer in a few seconds!” Greez grumbled, both amused and overwhelmed by the kid’s wild hybrid of enthusiasm and excitement—honestly, he couldn’t tell which of the two anymore.

“Cassidy, you’ll hit your head once we get atmospheric turbulence,” Cal softly scolded as he assisted in flying the ship.

Cal cautioned her to buckle up and she ran to the nearest seat she could find—the chair opposite of Cere’s. The Mantis quaked as it cut through the thick clouds and heavy sheen of the snowstorm. Greez knew exactly where to the land—in the same spot behind a rock wall against the direction of the wind.

The child hopped out of her seat and sprinted towards the quarters where she had stashed her backpack. She moved with such brisk in the same fashion that one would be in when the phrase “This is not a drill” rings in an alarm. She slipped into the beige poncho with dark grey sleeves which she inherited from Cal. Despite the height she prided herself with, the poncho’s length fell to her shins—had she been shorter, it would have been a robe!

It didn’t bother her though, for she knew that it would keep her extra warm. She popped out of the quarters, the flap of the poncho billowing as she waddled about excitedly.

“Where’s Mom?”

“She’s already in the Temple,” Cal took her hand and the blizzard’s air wafted into the ship, sending literal chills down everybody’s spine.

“Cassidy,” the child glanced over her shoulder to the call of her name. “May the Force be with you.”

She repaid the greeting with a smile and then headed out of the ship. The coldest wind to have ever existed blew onto her already-numbing face, specks of ice pricked her freckled cheeks, and snowflakes have already adorned the twists of her braids as they billowed in the harsh winter gale.

“This blizzard is just the beginning, Cassidy! But don’t let it discourage you,” her father lectured as they stamped through ankle-deep snow—in Cassidy’s case, it’s calf-deep.

Her arm shielded her eyes as she felt the hand of her father on the small of her back, guiding her through the trek towards the entrance of the temple. A great mound of snow, perhaps meters thick, divided Cassidy and her kyber crystal.

“There’s no way we’re getting through this path,” Cal hinted, indirectly urging her to think for herself.

Admittedly, she didn’t anticipate that she’d be challenged head-on this soon. This didn’t discourage the Padawan, she unstrapped her backpack and fished out her own pair of climbing claws—she punched the wall, driving the metal nails into the rock face caked with ice and snow, and started scaling upward.

“Attagirl,” Cal muttered under his breath.

He watched his daughter scale the ice wall, Cassidy had become more acrobatic and lithe with her movements—something that she has utilized greatly to her advantage as she grew up with her training.

The beads of sweat freeze over her pores the second they come out, the closer she got to the top of the ice wall, the heavier her body felt.

“No…! Not now, not when I’m so close!!” she growled through clenched teeth, tugging her one arm out of the wall and then burying the claws again a few inches above her head to hoist herself up.

Come on, Cassidy! Pull up!

She coaxed herself mentally, a stripe of frosted sweat dripped along her temples until she finally reeled herself upward, scuttling through the snow to bring her body to the flat surface. She spotted a pair of boots planted on the soil, when she shot her head up, it was Cal; apparently, she was too caught up in reaching the top of the wall that she didn’t realize her father had beaten her to it. But it wasn’t a race, this was a trial—a trial that she had to face alone.

“Good job,” the emotion in Cal’s voice had unusually become stricter, almost sounding like Jaro Tapal. “We’ll be expecting you inside.”

Without awaiting a reply from her, he disappeared into the opening of the wall—Cassidy followed him into that opening and found an empty room. Another spherical entryway was found in the opposite side of the chamber; easily enough, she figured out the pulley mechanism to trigger the lens to open up, pooling the wall with golden light.

Cassidy followed the path that led to the platform overlooking the main foyer of the temple. She finds both of her parents by the ledge—her mother sitting erect yet relaxed while the father stood tall and proud, their backs turned against another lens.

As the daughter approached, her eyes widened at the sight of the largest crystal she’s ever seen—suspended from the ceiling, at the center of it all, white fog swirled in front of her as she exhaled her gasp.

“Impressive, and to think the main path had been blocked,” you began without prompt, drawing the attention of the girl to you. “But in this temple, you’ll find trials more challenging than the last. Finding one’s kyber is easier said than done. This whole place will test your mettle. Not only will the Force guide you to your crystal, but it will try you—constantly. Your training and skills are your only tools through this obstacle. We will keep a close eye on you, but everything you have to do—you do it alone. You do understand this, don’t you, Cassidy?”

“Yes,” she stiffened her demeanor and steeled her voice. “Yes, Master.”

“Good. May the Force be with you, my child.”

You channeled the Force towards the pulley mechanism, the latch tore off from the port and the metal cover rumbled to reveal a beam of the same warm, golden light. Cal aligned the giant crystal to the light, reflecting and extending the ray of light to the archway that has been frozen solid by another wall of ice. The ice transfigured into water at the mercy of the warm light and then turned to mist the instant it crashed against the snow.

That was Cassidy’s cue. Her Gathering had begun.

Marching through that archway felt like going through a portal to another dimension. Stagnant, cold air wafting through her freckled cheeks was her greeting, and the chill of the cave was her host. The spaciousness of the cavern took her breath away, freezing her lungs as she inhaled and relished in the unforgiving beauty and mystery of Ilum’s ice caves.

Surveying the vastness that stretched in front of her, no sign of her would-be crystal yet. Her eagerness has betrayed her.

“Come on, Cassy, keep moving,” she coaxed herself.

Cassidy aimed the center of the caverns with her eyes, then carved a path on her own towards the inner conclave—with her objective in mind—and disturbed the snow with the soles of her boots. There was an invisible line that she followed—she believed that it was the Force guiding her; but while she’s grateful of the guidance, the anticipation of a challenge, of a test, dangled in the back of her mind.

A rather narrow stone bridge appeared before her. It was fragile—almost too fragile, in fact, that the slightest blow of wind made the rock crack and dust off tiny debris and snow. But on the other side of the beam was much more stable ground, she didn’t think that the sight of such would be so attractive.

“Only one way to find out,”

She puts one foot in front of the other, her pads of her toes touch the first inch, she cautiously brings the other foot next without putting too much of her weight; in a feathery grace, she stretches both her arms for balance as she treaded through the balance beam.

The sound of the bridge giving way was trying to discourage her, but with every light step she takes, she brushes away the thought. Not long enough, she’s made it to the end. Cassidy exhaled sharply upon her realization, but the stone was already crumbling beneath her feet, and so she sprang away a split-second before half of it collapsed, falling into the foggy abyss.

“Did you hear that?” you snapped from your meditation—a way of tracking where Cassidy probably is at the moment.

“She’s fine. I can feel her footsteps from here,”

“I know. But this could possibly be the first challenge she’s faced so far,”

At her arrival of the empty conclave, the statues—caked with snow and whose details have been eroded over time—welcomed her with their hands clasped together. Fascinated, she takes a step closer, examining their details and textures, looking past the snow that obscured their features. This conclave was also the center of a crossroads; each path seduced her with the same end goal, but what they don’t show her is what lies between the crystal and her.

Like any other youngling with the thrill of harvesting their kyber, she wasn’t thorough with her thought process. She’s unconsciously imposed a challenge upon herself when she began going in and out of each pathway. The longer she finds herself losing her bearings, her anxiety, frustration, and impatience combined became louder. The snow and the cold air delivered these emotions to you and Cal Kestis.

“Do you sense it, [y/n]?”

“Yes, so many,” you replied as-a-matter-of-factly. As tempting it might be, you restrained yourself from connecting with Cassidy through the Force.

Let her learn. Let her do this alone. You chanted to yourself, training yourself do what’s on your mind.

It felt like the air had formed ice inside Cassidy’s lungs by now, after running around in circles for a good chunk of time. Vexed, she kicked a wad of snow against the tip of her boots; her little tantrum had allowed her to blow off some steam and thought of her Plan B.

Feel, don’t think. Cassidy recalls the words of her mother.

Keeping herself grounded, she closed her eyes, and concentrated—just as you taught her. Through her mind, she entered each one and saw what they have laid—dangling the prize in front of her like bait to a fish—using her instincts, she assessed them one by one. The moment her eyes shot up, she knew exactly where to go.

Inside the tunnel, it was dim but at the corner of her eye, a mischievous twinkle played with her vision but she never doubted it. She knew what it was. Cassidy followed the gold spark until it revealed itself—hanging by the point of a stalactite like a droplet waiting to fall. A meters-wide gap separated her from the natural enclave where the crystal awaited her.

“That’s it. I know it!” she gasped.

Cassidy didn’t waste any time in heading towards the crystal that calls her. It was the only thing that filled her clear, dark irises. She proceeded to traverse the hostile terrain. Sprinting to her left side, the rock pillars became her stepping stones, bringing her ever closer to her objective. The ridge wall at the end of the path connected her to the enclave.

Due to her over-excitement, a jump done too soon nearly cost her life. Her own climbing claws had her literally hanging on for dear life. Her startled cry ricocheted between the icicles, the echo caused the icy chimes to jangle in a tone-deaf song, the wave of anxiety that sourced from the young Kestis girl alerted her parents.

“She’s found it,” Cal declared.

You could only imagine how Cassidy is holding up right now. That cry that the walls of the cave relayed a different message, but one thing is clear: she’s in the middle of a struggle right now, and she only has herself to depend on.

“Come on…” you mouthed, barely a noise parting from your lips.

Cassidy scaled the porous ice wall, digging the claws deeper through the layer of snow until she could hit something solid. Her arm hooked on the ledge, pulled herself up and squirmed farther away until she’s gotten her body on the ground. Her head angled up, the crystal glimmered so brightly like starlight that she had to blink away for a moment, and then returned her gaze to it afterwards.

Her legs dragged on, summoning herself towards the crystal. When she got close enough, the crystal nestled between her fingers and she gave it a good, quick tug. She let the yellow shard roll on the whole of her palm, her heart leapt and she felt the air in her lungs warm up. She exhaled until her breathing transitioned into a triumphant laugh.

“I got it…!” she annunciated.

The second half of the challenge was finding her way back. Seeing that some portions of the path that led her here were only a one-time use; she retraced her steps—except the stone bridge that gave way, she had to think of another way. Fortunately, she was able to improvise another bridge by Force-pushing a boulder on her left side—landing it into a clean incline for her to slide down on.

From there, things were now easy for Cassidy. She hiked the snow-caked path and found the archway from whence she came. The sight of the giant crystal in the foyer washed relief over the young one, she kept her head high in search of her parents. They appeared before her, proud smiles riddled their faces to welcome her back.

“Well done, Cassidy,” you beamed.

“You have found your kyber crystal, despite the challenges that the Force bestowed in your path. Now, it’s time for you to construct your saber.”

Her parents regrouped with her on the ground level, she followed them to the entry blocked by the mound of snow. You and Cal glanced over your shoulders, fixating your eyes on your daughter.

“Together?” Cal invited.

The child beamed, she tucked her knees and extended her arms—mimicking the posture of her parents—and mustered all the Force she could gather in her being to blast away the mound of snow that barred their exit.

The storm had subsided when they got back out in the open. The family returned to the ship, and they were greeted back by the crew members, Cassidy was especially excited to show off the tiny yellow shard that rested between her fingers. Cal beckoned her to the workbench in his old quarters and showed her the toolboxes filled with components.

“There’s so many to choose from! How will I know which one is the right one for me?”

“You meditate on it as you build, trust your feelings. The Force will help you,” he directed. “It will guide you to what is best for you.”

“Okay… I’ll try, Dad,”

“There’s a good girl,” he kissed her forehead. “I shall leave you to it now. May the Force be with you, Cassidy.”

First, she dug through the container of components. For each and every part she examined, she selected the ones that might have struck something in her, much like a magnetic force that attracted her to it. When it was apparent that she’s finished choosing the parts—from the sleeve down to the emitter—she laid them out in a neat, straight line one by one, with the kyber crystal at the center of it all.

She took a deep breath, relaxed her entire body and began reaching out to the Force for assistance. Even with her vision shrouded, the components moved to her whim—they fittingly connect with one another. Her crystal nestled underneath her switch, the sleeve and pommel latched together. When the final click came from the emitter, she opened her eyes and found the finished product lying in front of her.

Shaky hands cradled the completed hilt, her thumb trailed towards the switch—she hesitated for a second before pressing it—the yellow beam that hissed out of the emitter startled her, but she quickly smiled it off and stared at the golden glow of her very own lightsaber. Finally giving it a feel, she waved it carefully in the narrow space, it hummed to the motion of its owner and she fancied a single basic spin with it.

Her heart jumped with joy, butterflies fluttered all over her stomach, and she celebrated this victory within herself. She couldn’t keep her eyes off of the bright golden beam.

“I did it… I DID IT!!” she squealed from the room, not knowing that her entire family overheard her little celebration.

[azissuffering]

Rocks and Water - Chapter 1: Finitude

Moonfam Origins Fic. Begins with Runaan and Lain in the Silvergrove.

Link to Ao3: 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24565177/chapters/59325352

The girl was pretty, he supposed, pretty enough that she caught his eye from a hundred yards and a breathless four miles into his training routine. She had a narrowish face and a wire-thin frame that did not match with the easy way she worked over the mass of vine and rock that blocked the forest path some three hundred feet behind him. He didn’t recognize her from his own troupe, but it was common enough for training exercises to overlap, even within the boundary of neighboring communities.

“Hurry up, Lain.”

Runaan rapped him on the shoulder as he passed, which Lain did not appreciate — he did not exactly have a gentle touch. Lain tore his gaze from the girl’s retreating back and hurried to catch up with his errant friend.

Runaan slowed and allowed him to fall in step beside him, and they ran in silence for a while, following the bare path carving through the foliage from decades of drilled training exercises. It was a balmy summer morning, the forest still recovering from the previous night’s rain, and the ground was dangerously slick from wet. The thick canopy would shield the world beneath until high noon, and even still it would be hours yet before the land was comfortably dry. Most would be holed away in their homes at this hour of the morning, and probably for much of the foreseeable day, but sleeping late was a luxury that the guild apprentices did not have. They were young, and thus the rigors not quite as demanding as their elders in their specialized occupations, but they were challenged, still. 

Lain didn’t particularly mind the rain or the demands of his to-be profession, but he knew his friend had different feelings, and he finally saw fit to break the silence with a query after his health.

“How are you doing?” he asked between steps. 

“It’s wet. It’s early. My ankle aches from when you stepped on it yesterday. How am I supposed to feel?” 

Lain rolled his eyes. “Runaan. I meant your sister.” 

Runaan scowled. “What about her?”

Their conversation was momentarily interrupted when, ahead, the ground split into a series of uneven gnolls, empty pockets of earth knotted into the ground as if hacked away with a great axe. It was messy, and obviously artificial, one of the many obstacles that the guild students were to be faced with on the daily.  

“The guildmasters were unhappy this morning,” Runaan muttered, hopping gingerly from foot to foot to avoid slipping. Lain noticed with a pang that he was favoring his right leg. Still, guilty conscience or no, he had a moral duty as “friend” to ensure his partner’s wellbeing. 

“Well, how is she?” 

When there was no response, Lain glanced away from his footwork to find Runaan’s jaw set and lips pressed into a line. 

“Ru —”

“I don’t see how that matters,” he snapped. “It’s not relevant.”  

The ground smoothed over and began a slender slope downwards. In the distance, Lain could just barely make out the lively sounds of morning bustle, shops opening and those stubborn enough to brave the weather. They were nearing the end of the loop. 

“Hey! Runaan!” 

Lain scurried forward and caught hold of Runaan’s arm.  

Runaan shrugged him aside, twitching, but he stopped all the same. 

“Listen, you need to slow down for a second. I —” Lain cut off when he saw Runaan stiffen and sighed. His friend could really use a lesson on emotional vulnerability. He softened his tone and tried again, “I just want to help.”

“I understand that.” His words came out tight, but the fact that he responded at all was promising, from him. “I just don’t think it’s important.”

“Don’t think it’s —” Lain ran a hand through his hair and forced himself to lower his voice. “Runaan, your sister almost died. That’s a very big deal, especially when you choose to pursue the very path that put her there.”

A heavy pause.

“Look, can’t you at least try to explain? You haven’t talked to me the whole week. Actually, you’ve actively avoided me the whole week.”

“I haven’t —”

“Yes, you have, and you weren’t even trying to be discreet. I got stuck with green recruits four days in a row because you were absent on partnering rounds.”

“I needed to think.”

“Well, you’ve had your time, so let’s talk.” 

Runaan looked away, shifted on his feet and glanced back at Lain. “She’s not getting better,” he muttered. “And she won’t talk to me.”

Lain waited.

“It’s not like she’s ever talked to me before.” Runaan huffed a laugh, harsh and scathing, then turned on his heel and began walking again. 

Lain began to protest, but Runaan threw a hand over his shoulder and said, “I’m not evading, but the guildmasters will get suspicious if we’re late. We’ll speak while we walk.”

That was Runaan, thinking about his reputation even while he was hurting. Lain swallowed his sigh and followed. 

Runaan began unprompted this time, which probably meant he was more worried than he let on. “When the blackspine hit her, it got her in the stomach, but she fell on her back. She was unconscious when her troupe brought her back, so they didn’t know how bad it was, but when she woke up, she couldn’t move her legs.” Runaan swallowed hard and turned his head to the sky as if checking the degree of the sun. Of course, he wasn’t. He was just stalling. 

“Go on,” Lain prompted gently. 

Runaan sighed heavily. “The healer said she broke something. He suspects the spinal cord, but it’s not like he’s going to cut her open and check. He doesn’t know if it’s a full break or a damage that will heal naturally, and he said it’s too early to be sure. We’ll only know if her recovery gets better with time.”

“And you worry she won’t,” Lain guessed. 

“No — yes, obviously, but it’s more than that.” Runaan waved a hand through the air. “We’ve...talked about her injury and the possibility of no recovery. Neither of us are happy, obviously, but you know us. We’ve never lied about reality. It’s not our way. It’s the waiting I can’t stand. I wish these weeks would be gone so I could know how to accommodate her.”

“You know it doesn’t work like that.” Lain touched his shoulder. “Besides, moments like these are the best opportunities for growth. When else would you prompt yourself into juggling dual responsibilities? Family and work?”

“Never,” Runaan muttered. “Precisely because it means I can’t focus properly on either.” 

“Runaan. You have to learn how to do both. Life’s the best teacher, if you’ll just let it guide you.”

Runaan did not respond, and Lain didn’t push him. They walked the last two miles in silence, then paused at the top of the hill that hid them from the view of the rest of the village. 

Runaan turned to Lain and offered him a small smile. 

“I appreciate your help, Lain,” he said, “even if you are a pushy ass about it.”

Lain smiled and pulled him into an unwarranted embrace. “That part just means I care. Now, let’s get back down there before Liam eats our breakfast.” 

*

When they entered the mess hall, they were greeted by Laida’s unhappy timbre. Normally, nothing could stand between an elf just off training and their prospective meal, but as guildmaster and keeper of the twelve that made up their troupe, Laida had just enough authority to do so.

“You’re late,” she said, stepping before them in that imperious way of hers. Despite being a bare inch above five foot, she managed to convey the affluent air of the Dragon King himself. 

“Guildmaster,” Runaan greeted with a respectful tilt of his horns, but his tone belied his apparent regard. “I have to disagree. We’re a full half hour before the deadline, and the hall isn’t even close to full, meaning that even the year-ups haven’t completed their run before us.”

Laida interrupted him with a knock between the horns. It was the sort of reprimand you’d give a child, not a seventeen year old assassin-to-be, and given to such a revered pupil, doubly humiliating. 

“I meant in a personal regard, you twit,” she snapped. “That arrogance will get you flogged by a testier master, Runaan. Curb it now.”

Runaan looked at her, wincing, but the ire in his eyes did not leak into his tone. “Yes, Guildmaster.” 

Laida nodded, then reassessed her stance. “Now, what I meant was that you’ve come in a full fourteen minutes after your usual time. I don’t know what the reason for that could be, given you aren’t lovers, so far as I know —”

Lain spluttered an affronted protest, but Laida plowed right on. 

“Nor have either of you ever been severely impeded by the rain. I’m old enough to know when further prying is necessary, and this is not such a time, but I am giving you fair warning. I placed my repute and career in advocating for you all those years ago. You’re my most promising students, and I expect you both to make it as Knives by next winter’s end. Do not ruin this opportunity with frivolities, do you understand?”

Both Lain and Runaan nodded.

Mollified, Laida stepped aside and let them pass. 

They did so cautiously, then hastened their step once they’d passed her. Laida had a glare like forge-heated steel. They slipped past the first-years along their way to their corner table, and Lain was uncomfortably aware of their bright eyes and hopeful expressions, knowing that such youthful optimism would soon be ripped from them and gutted beneath the guildmasters’ scrupulous attentions. Softness had no place in an assassin’s life until they were well and truly broken in, and at that point it was enforced merely to preserve one’s sanity. 

They approached the table in the corner, and with the already seated ten, plus Lain and Runaan’s two, it was the least crowded but for the tenth-years who had lost three in the year-end cuts and were now down to a scant seven. The occupants were mostly quiet, focused on their meals, but they chipped into the main conversation every now and then so as not to be excluded. 

Liam was, as usual, hollering about something or other, to Talis, who was not paying him attention other than the occasional nod. He cut off when he noticed them approaching, face breaking out into a broad grin.

He half rose in his chair with his wave. “Lain, Runaan! About time! I was debating with my friend here whether or not you’d been devoured by a blackspine, them being so prevalent this year — ow.”

The girl on his right had elbowed him sharply in the ribs and was now glaring at him with gray eyes gone furious. 

“What?” Liam cried.

“Not funny,” she said mildly. 

Lain shot a glance at Runaan just in time to notice him forcibly unclench his jaw. Sure not to let his worry show, he plastered on an easy smile and slung an arm over his shoulders.

“That’s alright, Talis,” he said, “I’m sure he wasn’t thinking of how it’d affect Runaan when he said it.” 

“No, he just wasn’t thinking, as usual,” Talis said, but she returned to her fruit without saying more.

“I didn’t even do anything,” Liam muttered, and Lain did his best to ignore him.

Jara scooted over to offer him space, and Lain seated himself with a gracious smile, pulling Runaan along with him. Runaan settled with a grimace. He preferred to sit on the end of the bench, but they were lucky to receive a space at all. They were taught early to show no pity to comrades come late to breakfast; the guildmasters’ punishment. Luckily, their troupe was closer than most, and Laida enjoyed spiting the system enough to encourage their small rebellions.

“So,” Liam began, “can I ask why you two are so late, or will I get punished for that, too?”

Lain helped himself to a pair of bread loaves and what was left of the fruit and filled a second plate for Runaan. Runaan took it with that same confused gratitude he always expressed whenever someone offered him a kindness. Lain patted him on the head before turning to address Liam.

“No reason in particular,” he said. “We found a dry patch amidst the wet, and we got to talking.” 

“Oooh.” Liam pounded a triumphant fist on the table. “I knew it. You hear that, Talis? They got to talking —”

“That’s not a euphemism,” Talis interrupted, but Liam wasn’t listening. 

He pointed at Runaan. “I always knew you swung the other way, but Lain — that’s a surprise. Wasn’t he into that one girl from the Highgrove last year?”

Lain colored. “Hold on —”

“Oh, yeah,” Rhys piped up with a mouth full of ham. “The one with the pretty eyes. She clocked him in the jaw for staring.” 

Liam cackled. “That’ll teach you!”

“Actually, not,” Runaan added. “I caught him staring at her ass just an hour ago.”

Lain spun around to look at him. “I thought you were running.” 

“I still have eyes, Lain,” Runaan said hotly. “You’re not discreet with your affections.” 

“Except with Runaan apparently — ” Liam began but cut off with a yelp when Talis saw fit to intercede again with the sharp end of her fist.

“Would you cut it out?” she snapped. “You’re not funny. Next time, I’ll break your arm instead of bruise it.” 

“Oh, she’s mad now.” Rhys, who had been scooping butter into his mouth by the spoonful, paused to speak. “Better listen, Liam. You know she’s serious when she threatens violence.”

“I’m always serious,” Talis interjected, “I just don’t like idiots who can’t close their mouths long enough to let a thought interject once in a while.” 

“STUDENTS.” 

Farin’s exclamation, animated by his respectable reservoir of magic, jarred most conversation by its root. Youth or not, they were still military trained. 

‘THE MEAL IS CONCLUDED. YOU MAY STEP OUTSIDE FOR PAIR DRILLS. YOU WILL BEGIN AS STUDENTS TO YOUR YEAR-UPS, FOLLOWED BY MONITORED INSTRUCTION WITH YOUR YEAR-DOWNS.” Farin nodded at the now-silent room. “DISMISSED.”

The room stood as a single unit, then began filling for the exit in uneven rows. Guildmasters called for troupes over the sound of marching feet and scattered conversation. Runaan trailed after Lain with a hand on his elbow. He wasn’t overly fond of crowds, and he preferred a tactile stimulus. Lain was glad to be of service. 

“Over — fuck — over here, damn it!” 

Laida’s flushed face popped through the crowd before disappearing again, an airborne fish dropped back into the waves. Lain tracked her by the disgruntled expressions pointed down, the unwitting leader to Runaan and the rest of his fellows. 

“This way — shit, fuck, just follow me,” was Laida’s greeting, to which Lain did not give a response other than a passive nod.

When they’d squeezed out through the hundred bodies and come out into the grassy courtyard that served as the training yard, Laida drew in a breath and threw her hands to the heavens.

“Moon and fucking shadow! That gets worse with every passing year!” She took in one last suffering inhale before her posture shifted and her tone went crisp. “Right. To business. They’ve put me in charge of this team, so Silha’s brats are mine, now.”  

Indeed, a slow stream of bodies came to stand beside those already gathered, tentative and guarded as Moonshadows were with those they didn’t know well. There were fifteen in total; Lain recognized a few faces, but most were strangers. Laida gave them a few minutes to gather themselves before she began again. 

“As the numbers are uneven, we will have to amend the rules in order to comply with the requirements of a pair drill,” Laida said. “Now, be honest now, who is the best among the lot of you?” 

There was a moment of uneasy silence, a murmur passed through the crowd. Two stepped forward confidently, one with mild prompting and a final unsure glance thrown over his shoulder, and the last was shoved out from behind her friend with barely concealed annoyance. 

“Four of you,” Laida nodded. “That makes this easy, then. Each one of you will take three of my recruits; in succession, not all together. Don’t get excited.” Laida began to assign their troupe to each of the four leaders. When she reached Runaan and Lain, she said, “Runaan to Saia, Lain to Malik. I’m sorry to separate you, but I think it’s unfair to have you both on a single person, don’t you agree?” 

Lain nodded sagely. “Of course, Guildmaster.” 

Laida gave him a wan smile. “You just agree no matter what I say.” Before Lain could voice a word of protest, she leaned in and whispered, “Just between the three of us: wipe the floor with them, won’t you?” 

 Runaan smiled wolfishly. “Of course, Guildmaster.”

*

It was high noon when they switched from roles. Though the physical tax was not the same, Runaan found it far more exhausting playing teacher than student, restraining his abilities as opposed to stretching them. He knew how to speak plainly, which he thought more efficient than the flowered words of encouragement Lain offered, and his partner was an amiable enough student, but still. By the end of the day, he was drenched in sweat and his temper was sharp enough to cut himself on.

Still, he dragged himself to meet Lain at the edge of the training yard, as they always did at the end of the day. Thankfully, Lain didn’t seem to be in the mood for a chat, merely yelled, “See you, tomorrow!” and dashed off in that happy shadowpaw way of his. 

Runaan shook his head on a smile and turned for home. 

His home was on the southern edge of the grove, nestled between two firs and only a handful of steps from the ritual pool. It was a melancholy house, shadowed as it was and set beside a place of mourning, and as Runaan stepped closer, he felt the familiar gloom more apt than ever. 

He stepped inside and shut the door with deliberate strength, for between his taciturn air and his sister’s even quieter nature, the sound of the door served just as well as a shouted hello. He pulled off his boots and left them stacked in tandem with a second, smaller pair before padding off for the kitchen. 

It was a small house, but the threadbare furnishings made it seem overly large. Indeed, one would not fully know the effect a soft chair and a bit of upholstery had on the dreary emptiness of a room until one stepped into Runaan’s house. It was bare, void of color or personality save the staple necessities to survive, an oven, a cooling box with enchantments carved down the side, a smattering of cutlery amidst other, more poignant knives. 

Runaan pulled a clean plate off the rack beside the sink, kneeled on the black chestnut of his floor and pulled the cooling box open. Inside was a half-eaten torte, a jug of milk, and a variety of fruits kept fresh by the enchantments. He stacked the plate with fruit and the bread left over from their pre-breakfast, then headed for the hallway. 

He found Nia in much the same position as he’d left her, except when he’d left her she hadn’t had inkstains smudged across her nose and hands, nor had there been a mountain of crumpled papers littering the floor like the Silvergrove’s first snowfall.

Runaan paused in the doorway and raised an eyebrow. “What’s all this?” he asked.

“Boredom,” Nia said flatly. She hurled something at the wall beside his head, and he tracked its trajectory from her hand until the point it came to rest at the space between his feet. He reached down and picked it up off the floor, then held it up between two fingers for examination.

“A pen?” he said.

“Yes, it’s what people use to write,” she retorted dryly. “Hands are for more than knives, remember?”

Runaan’s lips thinned. He let the pen slip from his fingers and kicked the door shut behind him. He didn’t have any particular reason to do so — it was just the two of them — but he’d acquired the habit and had never seen reason to part with it. Besides, he felt more secure with four walls around him. 

As he approached the bedside, Nia reached above her head and took hold of the bedframe with both hands. She heaved herself upright without outward effort, then arranged her legs beneath her as one might a stuffed doll. She scowled while she did it, then scowled some more when Runaan dropped the plate in her lap. 

She prodded at the bread. “Leftovers?” 

Runaan perched on the edge of the bed and settled his own frown across his lips. “That’s all we had. I haven’t been to the market since last week.” 

Nia grunted and prodded at the bread before stuffing it into her mouth. “So, what’s new?” she mumbled. 

“You could’ve asked before you started chewing,” Runaan said. “And nothing much. The guildmasters said something about a year skip for us, so that’s new.”

Nia choked on her mouthful and sat upright, pounding on her stomach. Runaan watched with mild interest.  

“A year skip?” she managed after a moment. “Runaan, that’s not something they do for just anyone.”

“I am aware.” 

“They didn’t even do that for me.” She stared at him. “You said ‘us.’ Who else are they considering?”

“Lain.”

She snorted. “Of course.”

Runaan raised an eyebrow. “You don’t seem surprised.” 

“No. If anyone could stand up to you, it’s him. You were first at everything, but he was always right on your heels.”

“Barring you. You were always better at everything.”

“Well.” Nia shoved a chunk of sweetmelon into her mouth. “You won’t have to worry about that now.” 

“About that.” Runaan tucked a leg beneath himself and set his gaze to the ground. “I’ve been meaning to talk with you —”

“No.” 

He looked up. “Pardon?”

“I said no. We’ve talked about it so many times I can hear your words before you say them. ‘Nia, it’s worrying, the way you shut down. Nia, don’t be a pessimist; we don’t even know all the facts yet. Nia, you know Mum wouldn’t want you to be down on yourself over something you can’t fix.’ Gods, Runaan, you’re like one of those self-esteem novels Dad gave me when I was thirteen.”

Runaan, whose jaw had tightened with each word that escaped her mouth and now felt like a wound spring, straightened. “Well, I’ll take my leave, then,” he said tightly. He made to get off the bed, but Nia spoke up again.

“Wait.”

He paused without looking.

She sighed heavily. “Stay there, you dramatic ass. I’m bored as all hell, and you’re probably the only entertainment I’ll get for the rest of the week.”

Runaan hid a vicious smile and scooted backwards on his hands. He waited.

“Toff’s putting his foot down about my rest period,” she said after a moment. “He told me this morning: three weeks minimum.”

Runaan frowned. “That’s not what he said two days ago.”

“Yeah, I know, that’s why I specified.”

He hesitated, and Nia leaned forward to swat him. “Stop that. I’m not made of glass.”

His lips twitched. “No, you are very much not.” He sobered again. “I just wondered...if the healer had mentioned anything new about your recovery?

Nia shook her head. “The same as always. He can’t make any decisive statements until he sees how my body adapts to the injury.” 

Runaan nodded. He twisted halfway to look her over again, and his tone lightened considerably. “How’s the pain? Have you been doing the exercises like he said?” 

“The pain?” Her brow furrowed. “There is none. Didn’t I tell you this already?”

She had, in fact, multiple times, but it was hard to remember that someone as vivid as Nia was also the bearer of two non-functioning limbs. His mind couldn't seem to pair the childhood memories of a girl that leapt from the rooftop of the bakery onto his father’s waiting back with the whip-thin approximation lying in a sickbed. Perhaps that was a flaw innate to his own self. 

“I suppose you have,” he murmured.

Nia yawned and set the empty plate aside. “Why don’t you read to me from that book you like. The flowery shit. ‘Shakefist,’ or whatever.”

“Shakespeare?”

“Yeah, that.” She leaned back against the headboard and shut her eyes. “It’s nice. You have a good voice for it.” 

Runaan sat very still and repeated what she’d said in his mind. Nia didn’t say things like that. To anyone, ever. “Of course,” he heard himself say, but it was from a very far away place. 

He leaned over and reached an arm under the bed. He returned with a thick tome in his hand. 

“Which one would you like?” he asked, blowing dust from the cover. 

“The Rape of Lucrece,” she said without hesitation. 

Runaan flipped through the book and began to read.

*

Lain crept along the cobbled path that ran between his mother’s garden. He moved quick and quiet, carefully avoiding sticks and fallen debris that might alert the house’s occupants to his presence. At the door, he paused, listening.

It was quiet inside, save the low burr of his father’s voice, and dark save the flicker of candlelight and the luminescence offered by the fading sun. Satisfied, Lain reared back on his heels and drew the door open. 

His father did not react at his appearance, but his mother started, jolting upright before sinking back into the plush of her seat. She gave him an absent smile before returning her attention to the table. Lain spared them a glance as he shucked his coat off. They were playing tak, as usual, a game of stones.

When his boots were lying in a heap by the door, coat slung across the open closet door, he stood there in the foyer for a moment. The stones made little thunks when they hit the wood of the gameboard. 

“I’m back,” he offered, hoping he might rouse one or both of his idle parents to attention.

“So we heard,” his father said and moved one of his stones into an offensive position. “Draw or idle?”

“Idle,” his mother said, to which his father laughed. 

“You know I take the win when you play defensive.”

His mother reached across the table and tapped a finger against his cheek. “Well, I’m about to remedy that, don’t you worry.” 

“We’ll see.” 

Lain watched them blankly, and a sudden anger rose within him. They hadn’t done anything specific to warrant it. Their mere existence peeved him. Always idle, always waiting for something to happen while the world spun circles around the pocketed bubble they’d built for themselves.

“Lain.” 

He glanced up at his father’s voice, momentarily pulled from his thoughts. 

“What are you doing standing there like that? Why don’t you come over and greet your mother like a proper son?” 

His jaw clenched. “Yes, Father.” 

He crossed the foyer stiffly and moved around to stand beside his mother. She held her hand out in traditional greeting, and he took it between his. 

She looked up from her game and smiled at him, the brown of her eyes twinkling merrily. “And how was your day, son?” she asked him.

“I’m continuing with the guild.”

Her eyes went round as saucers, her mouth fallen open in shock. His father looked not much better. Lain savored it. That had gotten a rise out of them. 

“ ‘Continue.’ ” His mother breathed the word from somewhere very far away. 

“Lain,” his father rumbled, “what nonsense are you speaking?” 

“It’s not nonsense, father. You know I never lie to you.” 

His father’s eyes narrowed dangerously. For all his flaws, stupidity was not one of them. “Explain.”

“Laida vouched for me,” he said. “Runaan and I are to join the Highgrove at winter’s end.” He left out the part about them not being officially approved by the Council. Laida’s intuition was right nine times out of ten, and besides, he was enjoying his parents’ discomfort.

“No, no, that can't be right," his mother muttered. "You're good, but you were never that good. You're a farmer, like your father."

"Listen to your mother, Lain," his father said. "You had your fun, but you're almost grown now. It's time you started thinking about the future."

"Future? What future?" Lain spat. "Will I sit here whittling away the days in the garden? Or perhaps you'd like me to get married." He snorted. "You've probably already found someone. Is that what you want? To drag another elf into this stain of a family?"

His mother seemed taken aback at his vitriol, and his father rose from his chair, a storm on his brow. "That's enough!" he bellowed. "You don't come into this house yelling profanities and threats. I raised you better than that. Your mother deserves your respect, and I damn well think I should too."

Lain laughed scathingly. " 'Respect is earned,' you always say. Best toughen up, Father."

His father stared at him a moment before shoving back from the table and storming across the living room. He threw open the door and pointed out into the night. "Get out of here," he snapped, "and don't return until you can be civil."

Lain sneered in his face. "Yes, Father."

*

Runaan sat upright. He cocked his ears and listened. Night owls, crickets, a singular pesky lyrebird, frogs and newts, nothing out of the ordinary. Except lyrebirds were diurnal and it was well past dusk, and he didn't think he'd ever heard one sound a mating call two months after the season. 

"Not again," he muttered and leaned over to pull the window open. As expected, the moonlight illuminated a lonely figure standing with hands still cupped over his mouth in the shade of his family's elm tree. 

As he watched, the figure dropped his hands to his sides and offered a lopsided grin. "Thank the Moon," Lain said. "I was one call away from scaling your roof and climbing in through your attic."

*

He ordered Lain to sit at the kitchen table while he set about making tea. "What was it this time?"

Runaan kept his voice low, wont to wake Nia but also because it felt wrong to raise his voice in the sobered ambiance they'd gathered between the two of them. 

Lain traced the whorls along the table's grain, gaze downcast and thoughtful. "I got cocky when I shouldn't have," he said

Runaan hummed and walked back to the table carrying two cups. He set one down in front of Lain. "That sounds more like me than you."

Lain wrapped his hands around the mug but didn't drink. "Perhaps you've rubbed off on me."

"Is that a good thing?"

"They just make me so angry," he explained. "My whole life, they've done the same thing. Farm crops, play tak, sleep, repeat. According to them, that's all they ever wanted or will want." He shook his head in disgust. "They have no ambition. I don't understand."

Runaan eyed him. He nodded at Lain's still-full mug. "Drink some of that, and we'll talk."

Lain looked down at the mug as if he’d forgotten it, then took an idle sip. 

Runaan waited until he’d downed half of it before speaking again. “You’ve explained your upset to me. Really, you’ve explained it every time you’ve come here. Still — do you think perhaps you’ve grown complacent?” 

Lain paused with his lips an inch from the porcelain rim of his cup. “What?” 

Runaan pursed his lips. “Do you ever stop to think that you’re lucky for having them at all?”

“Oh.” Lain set his cup down. “Runaan. I’m so sorry. Of course, I come in here complaining about my parents when you have none at all and your only sister has just had a scare with death — careless. I’m sorry. Do you need me to leave or —”

Runaan held up a hand. “You’re much too quick to pick up the blame,” he commented. “I ask out of curiosity, not as a criticism. Do you?”

Lain fell back into his seat, brow furrowing in thought. “Not really? Parents are just something you take for granted, I guess. Most people have them, so you kind of just assume you should, too.” He paused. “I’m sorry if that’s hurtful.” 

“No,” Runaan said. “I think I understand. It’s how I feel about Nia. She’s always been there. Why shouldn’t she be? It’s only recently that I’ve been thinking otherwise.” 

“Yeah… How is she?” 

Runaan looked heavenwards, fingers clacking against the side of his cup. “She’s fine, and she can probably hear us talking about her, so best not.” 

“Right. Sorry.” Lain hesitated. “And...what about you?” 

Runaan looked at him. “You asked me this morning.”

“Well you didn’t exactly answer.” 

Runaan scoffed. “Yes, I did. How is ‘I’m stressed’ not an answer?” 

Lain pointed at him with a triumphant smile. “Yes, good! You’re stressed. Tell me more.” 

“Would you like a list of my everyday peeves?” he said dryly.

“Have you got one?”

“No.”

“You should try it. Writing is good for emotional expression.” 

“Lain, sometimes I wonder how you got hooked into the Guild at all when your calling as a poet is so clearly laid out before you. You have that overripe-speak, pain-in-my-ass dichotomy down pat.”

Lain shrugged. “I’m good at hitting people, I guess.”

After, they placed their dirtied cups in the sink to be washed in the morning, and Runaan led Lain down the hall to the far room. He took a quick pit stop in the closet for a fresh pair of linens and a down pillow that he never used because the softness disagreed with him. 

“You’re putting me on your couch again?” Lain asked

“Yes. As a rule, we don’t have guests. No guests, no bed.” Runaan finished tucking the covers between the cushions and retreated with a flourish. “All pretty for you.”

Lain shuffled over and sat atop it gingerly. “You know I appreciate you always doing this for me,” he said earnestly.

“So you’ve mentioned.”

“But really, Runaan.”

Runaan rolled his eyes and walked to the doorway. “Goodnight, Lain.” 

*

“Runaan.”

Nia’s voice came through the crack in her door. He mourned his empty bed for a moment before firming his resolve and slipping inside.

Nia was sitting upright against the bedframe with her eyes turned towards the window. She seemed to like that position. He wondered if she missed being outside, the way she looked so intently. She rolled her head around to face him when the door opened.

“He’s alright,” she said.

Runaan leaned against the doorjamb. “He is.”

“Why’s he here in the first place?” 

“You were listening.”

“I was, but you got quieter towards the end, so fill me in.” 

Runaan said, “He didn’t explain himself very well. Something about being angry at his parents, the usual. Probably offended his father.”

Nia grunted. “What do you suppose it’s like, having two living parents, yet never being intelligent enough to appreciate them?”

“Don’t be cruel,” Runaan snapped. “We all have our struggles to deal with, and Lain deserves my kindness more than you do.” 

She snorted. “Don’t pretend, Runaan. We both know you value duty too seriously to abandon your family bonds.”

Runaan clenched his jaw. “Yes.” 

They were silent for a moment. 

“But, actually,” Nia said, “he’s not hurt?” 

“No, his parents aren’t like that.” Runaan shook his head. “Honestly, I remember them being fairly pleasant the few times I met them. I’m not sure why he’s on such poor terms with them.” 

Nia half-lifted herself into the air, then eased onto her back. The bed creaked defiantly. “Different ideas on how to live,” she said. “Your Lain has plans. His parents, it seems, do not, or they do, just the wrong ones. Clashing temperaments. Just imagine what it would be like if I was nice.”

“Can you imagine?” Runaan asked dryly. “Surely we wouldn’t get along nearly so well as we do.”

“Nah, you would be confused out of your mind. You’re used to taking my beatings.”

Runaan’s lip twitched. He fumbled the doorknob and half-slipped outside. Nia was already rolling onto her side, back facing him.

“Goodnight, Runaan,” she muttered into her pillow. “And look after yourself, would you? Now that I’m not around to do it?”

He swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat and managed a hurried “Goodnight” before he shut the door behind him. 

[theundercovermarvelfan]

(Trying to get back in to writing by catching up with the Whumptober Challengefor @whumptober2019!)

Alternate Prompt used today!

Day Eighteen - Lost

Clint crouched silently on the rock protruding part way out into the river. He watched the rapids carefully, eyeing the fish that swam by. Finally, he struck out with the sharpened bamboo stick he had fashions, spearing one of the fish swimming by. He studied it for a moment, turning it on the stick. It looked healthy enough. He pinched the tail of this fish with the one he had speared just a few minutes ago and then stood, carefully hopping from rock to rock in order to make it back to shore. 

He grabbed the long stick he had left leaning up against a tree on the shore before he started back through the jungle. He used the stick to probed the underbrush before he walked through it, hoping to scare away any venomous snakes or spiders as he headed back to camp. 

The camp was set up in a small clearing just a few minutes away from the scream. He glanced around to make sure nothing had changed, relieved that everything was just how he had left it. He headed for the small fire that was still burning. He still had the bamboo sticks from the night before, cut down the middle to create a kind of prong that the fish could fit horizontally into. Once both fish were in place, he just had to lay them across the horizontal sticks he had built over the fire and the fish began to cook. 

With a decent breakfast underway, Clint turned to the next order of business. He went around the area to check the traps he had set up with sticks, vines and leaves in order to catch any water or dew that he could. He frowned as he found each trap to only have a little bit of water in each. Not exactly what he had been hoping for. Working very carefully, he consolidated all the water into one leap that he cupped to hold the several small gulps he had managed to gather. 

“I thought this was supposed to be the damn rainforest,” he grumbled to himself. He took a couple small sips and then headed for the lean-to that he had built on one side of the small clearing and ducked inside. “Up and at ‘em, sunshine.”

Initially, there was no movement from Natasha. She lay curled on her side with her back to him, just as he had left her before he had gone for food. Clint knelt next to her, reaching over and putting a careful hand on her shoulder, feeling the heat of the fever radiating off of her. Under normal circumstances, the touch would have brought her lurching back to consciousness, but today it elicited little more than a small flinch. 

“C’mon, Nat,” he said lowly but firmly, a small note of pleading in his voice. “You gotta get up. I’ve got breakfast almost ready.”  

Finally, Natasha shifted her head to look blearily at him over her shoulder. “‘M tired,” she rasped. 

“I know,” Clint said sympathetically. “But you’ve got to drink and eat something. Please, Nat?” She let her head fall back down to its original position, and Clint sighed heavily. “Can you at least sit up some and drink a little water?” He was already reaching over with one hand and gently pulling her onto her back. 

She thankfully didn’t resist. Instead, she blinked around warily with eyes clouded by fever. “Where are we?”

“Taking a little vacation in the Amazon rainforest,” Clint said, his voice strained. It was a question that she was asking more and more often, and that certainly wasn’t a good sign. “C’mon, Tasha, I need you to drink something, okay?”

He threaded a hand under her shoulders and used it to leverage her up as gently as he could. She groaned and grimaced at the action, causing Clint’s heart to twist. He hated causing her more pain. He brought the leaf to her lips as she seemed to come back to herself a bit as the water hit her lips, drinking greedily until the leaf was empty. Clint sighed in relief as he discarded the leaf and then carefully helped her sit up more, leaning her up against the tree the lean-to was built into. 

“Did you get some?” she asked suddenly, her voice small and childlike.

Clint looked at her in confusion, but saw that she wasn’t looking at him. He followed her gaze to the water leaf he had discarded. 

“Yeah, I drank some before I came in here,” Clint assured her, ignoring the lightheaded feeling that was starting to set in. It wasn’t a lie. He had enough to keep him going and Natasha needed it more than he did right now. The air inside the lean-to clung to him thickly, already drawing sweat despite the fact that the sun was barely up yet. “How about we go outside? You’ll get a little more air out there.” 

Natasha mumbled something that Clint couldn’t make out, her eyelids sagging as unconsciousness was already pulling at her. Clint sighed, threading one arm behind her shoulder and the own scooping under her legs, lifting her and ducking out of the shelter. There was a small whine of protest, but other than that she didn’t react much. 

Clint didn’t move her far, instead he just leaned her up against the adjacent side of the tree the shelter was built into. As he settled her back down, his eyes strayed to the bandages packed into her side. The bullet wound actually hadn’t initially been terrible, all things considered. It hadn’t been too much more than a deep crease. Clint had cleaned it and bandaged it as best as he could the first chance they had gotten, but despite the efforts, after three days of wandering through the jungle, it had become painfully apparent that infection was starting to get the best of her. 

Those initial signs of infection had appeared five days ago. There wasn’t much that Clint was able to do for it and that fact was gut wrenching. His survival skills were excellent and he could likely live like this for weeks, maybe even months if he had to. 

But Natasha was quickly running out of time. 

“Feel up to eating something?” Clint asked. It wasn’t much, but it was something that he could do. He wasn’t surprised when there wasn’t an answer. 

Clint went to work skinning and carving up the fish with his combat knife. With some coaxing he was able to get her to eat a fair few bites and she even managed to keep it down this time, unlike the night before. That was something at least. 

“Okay, I know you’re got gonna like this,” Clint said after stomping out the fire and crouching down next to Natasha. “But we’ve gotta move on.”

Natasha sighed, her head drifting heavily on her shoulders as she blinked dully. “‘M tired.”

“I know,” Clint said softly. “But we’ve gotta keep moving.”

He hated to do it, but if the rescue team -- that may or may not be actually looking for them and may or may not be searching the right area -- didn’t find him, their next best chance at surviving this was to find some kind of civilization. And the only way to do that was to cover some ground while they could. 

They didn’t have much in the way of supplies left, so it didn’t take Clint long to pack it up. He had his combat knife and his bow, but had long ago run out of arrows. He had a couple sharpened bamboo sticks in his quiver, but they wouldn’t work great with their lack of weight. He had Natasha’s sidearm, but it was out of ammo. 

Once he had all that together, he went back to Natasha, who had drifted off. Gently he shook her awake again, earning low groans in protest. 

“Please, Nat,” he implored. “I need you to try to walk. Just a little, okay?”

Of course he could carry her, but he couldn’t keep that up forever. Also, to be honest, he was starting to wear down as well. While he wasn’t nearly as bad off as Natasha, he could feel himself waning day by day. And if he was honest with himself, judging by his numerous mosquito bites, he wouldn’t be surprised if he was starting to come down with malaria. 

Clint pulled Natasha’s arm over his shoulder. “C’mon, here we go. One, two, three.” Natasha yelped as Clint lifted her and his chest clenched in sympathy. “Okay, we’ve just going to walk a little bit. You can do that, right? Right?” He squeezed Natasha encouragingly. 

“Jus’ a little bit?” Natasha mumbled. 

“Yeah, just a little bit,” Clint assured her. Her legs moved stiffly and most of her weight was still on Clint, but it was better than nothing. He grabbed a long stick in his free hand in order to probe the undergrowth, and then they were off. 

“Where are we?”

“Where would you like to be?” Clint asked. “What’s your favorite place in the world Tasha?” 

“Hm,” Natasha hummed. Her head started to fall. 

“Hey,” Clint said, shaking her slightly. “If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be? Your favorite place in the world.” 

“New ‘Ealand.”

“New Zealand?” Clint said, arching an eyebrow in surprise. “Where in New Zealand?”

“Fiord’nd.”

Clint had to think for a minute because he could translate. “Fiordland? I don’t think I’ve ever been. I think we should go. What do you think?”

“Hm.” 

“Nat? What do you think?”

“Where are we?”

Clint sighed. “We’re heading for Fiordland, obviously. Just a little bit farther.”

“You sure?” 

“Yep, very sure. Just keep walking okay? One foot in front of the other.”

Clint tried to keep her talking, but the longer they walked, the more difficult it became. Eventually, he started to feel like he was just being cruel, dragging her around this jungle when it was very likely that they weren’t going to get out of here. 

And just as he had the thought, a jet screamed by overhead. He was so shocked that almost let Natasha fall. His eyes went frantically to the sky. Was it possible…? 

As quickly as he could he set Natasha down against a nearby tree and tore the bow off of his back, nocking one of his bamboo sticks and firing it straight up into the air, through a small gap in the canopy. Then he fired another… and another… and another. It was a laughably small attempt at a flare, but it was all he could do. 

When he ran out of bamboo, he just stood as stared up, holding his breath. For a long time, it seemed that the hum of the jet was getting further away. But then… was it closer? Or was that just wishful thinking? 

And then, finally, through the gap in canopy he saw the jet as it hovered over them. His gaze narrowed in on the SHIELD insignia on the bottom of the Quinjet. 

They were saved. 

[whirlybirbs]

oh no help i am in love with one (1) reckless handsome pilot

» PRE-FLIGHT CHECK, ONE.

summary: cadet!reader & poe dameron continue to not get along. you live up to your academy nickname. leia assigns you both on a mission aimed to put your rivalry to an end. 1/2. companion piece to risks. a/n: i love these two, okay, the han-leia dynamic to the max.

Punchy. 

Your drill squad gave you that nickname back at the academy. Whether it was a testament to your spitfire personality or speed in the sky, you were never really sure. 

Black Squadron doesn’t give you a nickname -- they refer to you in the sky as Black 3, guard-point position in most missions. You had a dominant habit of banking to the right; it lined you up for the position of protecting Commander Dameron’s own personal blind-spot. Snap Wexley is your counter balance. Poe’s left side isn’t nearly as weak. Snap’s got it easy.

You didn’t like being anchored to Poe’s every move; but, you’re good at playing defense. There’s a reason why you were hand selected for Black Squadron. 

You’ve always been an offensive flyer. You make moves, cut engines, shoot sharp. You’re a natural, but Karé, L’ulo, and Jessika had a tight formation and their roles as forward-fighters had been honed after months of missions. That being said, you and Snap busy yourself with saving Poe’s reckless ass while The Terrible Three careen across the skies and decimate the playing field.

All in all, Black Squadron dominates. 

Stiletto, Dagger and Cobalt Squadron aren’t nearly as close in the standings -- there was a reason every pilot in the Resistance Starfighter Corp looked up to Poe Dameron. 

And you couldn’t stand it. Or him. 

The reputation you’d built for yourself in the academy meant nothing here -- on D’Qar, the base didn’t really care about top-of-the-class pilots. They cared about performance. About fast heroes. And sure, yeah, it bothered you, mostly since you were the one making sure Poe landed after every mission. 

It was probably the hair. Or the jaw-line.

Maybe the smile.

God! He was insufferable. Poster child of the Resistance, your ass. He was cocky and reckless and he got away with all of it -- probably because he could knock anyone off beat with a carefully calculated smile and a bat of those lashes.

Eugh. 

It didn’t work on you.

You’re under the belly of your T-68 X-Wing, jumpsuit smeared in grease as you cram your arm into the shift gears that have been giving your trouble ever since three missions ago. After getting caught in the TIE Fighter’s EM field, your downshifts had been all out of sync. 

(That “stunt”, as Poe called it, had grounded you for the rest of the mission -- he’d put in word with Leia that you needed to cool-off. Ever since, the two of you could hardly sit in the same room. And still, you got in the air and did your job. You may be stubborn, but you’re not a child. Serving in Black Squadron was something you didn’t want to lose.)

You’ve been putting this maintenance off for long enough, now. You were one of the few pilots on the base who preferred to do their own repairs, but this one was difficult. Time consuming. So here you are on hour three, wrist deep in the guts of your X-Wing.

By your ankles your astro-droid, AC-38, gives a concerned beeeeeeeeep. 

Careful, it says, the wiring is delicate.

“I know, Ace, it’s fine,” you chirp back, tongue poking out as you close your eyes and try to visualize the wires you’re tugging at, “Nothin’ I haven’t done before.”

You lean up on your tippy-toes, boots scuffing the polished dura-cement of the hangar floor. This is annoying. If only you could see, but no -- the underside of your model wasn’t lit up like Poe’s -- his T-70 was nice. Shiny. New. 

Speak of the devil.

“Need help, shorty?”

Your eyes twitches as you jump. And you proceed yank the gear box clean out in it’s entirety. 

AC-38 gives a low whir as the wiring sparks. 

Oh no.

Slowly, you deflate, hands dropping to your knees as you drop your head in defeat. Annoyance is tense in your shoulders. Slow breaths. In and out.

(You try to remember the anger management training you were mandated to report to after starting a fight in the mess your first year in the academy. Maybe that’s where the nickname came from.)

Behind you, Poe’s got a starfruit in his hand, jaw moving as he chews slowly. 

When you stand, your hair is wild and the grease is streaked up your arm. You turn on your heel, walking past him briskly and shoving the gear shift into his chest. The look on your face should deter him. But, it doesn’t. Poe’s got an attitude, too. And you’re about ready to give him an adjustment.

It smears grease across his white, cotton long sleeve.

He recoils.

“What the --”

“No!” you bite back, storming past him and slamming your toolbox shut, “No, no. Nope, you can take that, and you can shove it up your ass, Commander.”

Poe’s brows raise. It’s a challenging gesture. He cradles the gear cog in his hands, inspecting it as he takes another bite of his starfruit. Through a full mouth, he chirps:

“Wassamatter, shorty? Gears gettin’ stuck?”

You had laid Commander Poe Dameron out cold on the hangar floor.

If Leia knew any better (she does, she’s keen on having her two best pilots working this out, though), she’d have demoted you and separated you both -- you’d go to Stiletto Squadron and he’d stay Black Leader. 

But, here she is, sitting you both down in that dimly lit office of hers.

Poe’s got an ice-pack over his nose, wads of cotton gauze rolled and shoved up his nostrils to stop the bleeding. You, all the while, are rocking a mean mug and busted knuckles. The ice-pack taped to your fists isn’t help cool down your attitude.

Poe’s no better -- he’s pissed, arms crossed and knee jumping as he waits for Leia to begin. Under the eyes of the woman he considered as a mother-figure, he feels a bit like a child scorned.

“Both of you,” she says, “Need to get over --”

She gestures between you both. 

“--Whatever this is.”

“Ma’am --”

“Leia --”

“Can it. Both of you,” she snaps, wise eyes jumping between you both. From behind her desk, you both shrink a bit. Silence smothers you and Poe, “Now, I can do one of two things.”

You squirm in your seat. Poe’s brows are set in irritation. He looks funny though -- nose stuffed in gauze. Totally worth it.

“I can demote you both, pull you from your squadron’s and ground you.”

Okay, maybe not. Poe is nearly immediate in his challenging of that, but in one move, Leia silences him like the royalty she is. She raises one finger. It’s shuts him up so quick you nearly laugh. 

“Or, I can send you both to the Outer Rim on a reconnaissance mission and forget this incident ever happened. You’ll get us the information promised from one of our liaisons, and you’ll square this away. We don’t have time for in-fighting among our ranks.”

It’s pretty easy to guess which one you both choose.

[virmillion]

Ibytm - T minus 56 seconds

Masterpost - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter - ao3

Words: 2,835

It took Logan quite a while to figure out what, exactly, the contents of his fetch kid’s delight were. The shorthand for the order wasn’t written on the sleeve, nor was there a receipt in Cadmium’s hands upon delivery, so that meant either that Cadmium told the barista to make something up, or that it was such a simple order that the barista didn’t bother to write it down—or he just threw the receipt away. He passed the cup around the floor, but all anyone else could tell was that it had an excessive amount of whipped cream on top.

Although he had the foresight while making the app to include the option to find fetch kids based on previous satisfactory orders, as well as let fetch kids personalize their profile with their top drink choices for ordering a delight, it isn’t of much use to him now. Sure, he could dig through every single registered fetch kid to find Cadmium, but Logan does have some sense of personal boundaries. Exploiting his own app to track down a literal living human being falls more than a little outside of those boundaries.

There also exists the option to straight up ask Cadmium when they cross paths at the museum, but that’s just too easy. Logan likes a bit of a challenge. While he could just borrow Alex’s phone to see recent fetch quest transactions, he decides to instead to make it a little more exciting. What else could a paid NASA intern want to do with their time?

Logan pockets his phone, clicking the screen away from a pending receival of two fetched kid delights. All around him, kids too young to be in school barrel through the public park with their beleaguered parents in tow, like so many elderly cats being begrudgingly sicced on house mice. He dodges to the side as a set of triplets comes tumbling past the entrance, closely followed by a frantic-looking woman. She mumbles an apology to Logan, tightening her ponytail and moving faster. A little ways down the path is an ice cream stand, which pretty clearly seems to be the triplets’ destination. Logan checks his phone. Hardly twenty minutes have passed.

He thumbs over to the profile of the fetch kid that accepted his order request. So far, it’s the most promising one he’s seen, in that there’s next to no personal information, let alone a reference picture or name. At the very least, no confirmation of what was in Logan’s cup the other day. ��If you see a guy trying to juggle all five of your drinks, it’s probably me.’ A bit vague, but certainly not inaccurate.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” a voice says from just outside the park gates. Logan glances over his shoulder to see Cadmium strolling up with two cups in his hands. Probably both fetch kid delights, if common sense has any input here. “Two times now that I’ve seen you outside the museum? You’re not even here with anyone, dude, why get two drinks?”

Logan accepts both cups, nudging Cadmium’s shoulder with the one in his left hand. “Walk with me?”

“What.” Cadmium stares blankly at the cup, his face expressionless as he presumably plays the question back in his head a couple more times. “What? No, no, I can’t, there’s probably way more fetch quests I can—”

“Please?” The emotions return to Cadmium’s face, all in a rush. Refusal. Annoyance. Reluctance, hesitation, acceptance, one right after another. Cadmium lets his head droop, revealing a gleaming pair of black and blue headphones looped around his neck. The sleek color scheme matches his deep purple cardigan.

“I guess so.” Cadmium reluctantly accepts the cup back from Logan, squinting at the sippy lid opening suspiciously as he follows Logan onto the winding cobblestone path.

“I promise I didn’t poison it in the ten seconds I was holding it in front of you,” Logan says. Just to prove as much, he takes a swig from his own cup, immediately recoiling as if the flavor had reached out and bit him back.

Cadmium does a quick exhale through his nose, not quite a laugh as he watches Logan’s face contort. “Bit of an acquired taste, I guess.”

“What is this stuff, anyway?”

“Black coffee with whipped cream and five shots of espresso.” Logan waits for Cadmium to elaborate, to offer an explanation for deciding a jacked coffee with whipped cream was something he needed in his life, but none is forthcoming. “I’m not kidding.”

“That’s what worries me.” Logan works his tongue against a piece of food he doesn’t remember getting stuck between his molars, hoping his cheek doesn’t puff out too strangely as he watches Cadmium take a heavy swig from his own cup. “How did you even realize that was a viable drink option, let alone a desirable one?”

“Great question. Alternative question, though. What’s your deal? Why do I keep seeing you everywhere?”

“In my defense, the first few museum tours and that time at my office were unintentional.”

“Okay, cool, and how about literally every single other instance where we’ve seen each other besides those?”

“Like now, you mean?”

“Yes. Like now, I mean.”

Logan hesitates, watching his shoes loosen the pebbles underfoot as he tries to figure out a way to phrase his answer without sounding like a total creep. Admittedly, he doesn’t really know if his gut answer would be accurate. “You seemed interesting at the museum, and I decided I wanted to talk to you outside of a tour. I don’t really know why that is, per se.” Brutal honesty for the win.

“I don’t even know your name, dude, you can’t tell me you aren’t picking up on how weird this looks from my perspective.” An odd expression crosses Cadmium’s face before he ducks his head down, his ears flushing a bright pink. “Of course, since you made the fetch quest app, I’m sure you know my name already.”

“I don’t, actually, but I’ll gladly keep referring to you in my head as ‘Cadmium,’ if that would make you happy. Mine’s Logan, by the way.”

“Okay, Logan, follow-up question.” Cadmium raises his head once more to focus on where they’re going, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision with a double seated stroller. The dad behind it wrenches the wheels out of the way with much more force than necessary, because obviously Cadmium should feel guilty for being in the way on the right—and correct—side of the path. “Where in the world did you get it in your head to call me Cadmium?”

“My first impression of you was pretty much entirely ‘now that’s a man who is certainly wearing a cardigan.’ So Cardigan Man, which is too many syllables to deal with, so I knocked out a few letters here, added some there, and boom. Cadmium.”

Cadmium nearly stops walking, and only just manages to get his feet solid under himself as he turns to stare at Logan. “Despite seeing you at the museum so often, I never really pegged you as being this big of a nerd. A hardcore geek, at most, but this is more than I could have possibly expected.”

“I mean, I am an intern at NASA,” Logan says. “So.”

“So,” Cadmium agrees. “Just to be clear, you don’t know my actual name? I don’t have to worry about being followed home and having my identity stolen yet?”

“Right. The extent of my knowledge regarding your personal life is that you can pull off a cardigan better than literally any other person I’ve ever seen before. Ever. Certainly better than I could possibly hope to.” Logan gestures to his own outfit, which is essentially what he wears to the office, just turned down about half a notch. “Neckties and polo shirts, all the way.”

Cadmium cocks his head to the side, rubbing at a spot along the slope of his neck as if the growing soreness were the only thing that dared hold his attention anymore. With no warning, he speeds up and leaves Logan in the dust, booking it for a minimalist garbage can. He tosses in his coffee cup—empty, apparently—and veers off the side of the path to lean against a lush oak tree. Logan nearly trips over his feet in a rush to catch up, rounding Cadmium’s side and craning his neck to see what he stopped for.

Cadmium peers into the surface of a pretty sizable pond, watching the ripples peter out from the dainty impacts of bugs skimming across the water. He stares at one bug in particular for a moment, then two, before nodding slowly and sighing. “Okay, don’t take this as weird as I know it’s gonna sound, but I’ll let you try on my cardigan. Just this once. Just so we can see where you’re going wrong. For the low low price of the rest of that coffee, which I can tell you don’t like, I’ll fix up your cardigan situation.”

“Fix my—?”

“You can’t pull off a cardigan, or so you claim, so let’s see some proof. Isn’t that what all you science dorks are about, experiments and evidence?” Cadmium shoots a glance up at the clouds, muttering to himself, “That’d be a really good name for an educational punk rock band.” Logan merely watches, dumbfounded, as Cadmium continues rambling to himself.

Finally content with whatever nonsense he’d whispered to the grass and to the sky, Cadmium turns and plants his hands on Logan’s shoulders, pressing him firmly into the ground. Logan had never realized just how much height Cadmium had over him. Cadmium fidgets with the minimal accessories Logan bothered to put on this morning, setting the necktie crooked, tossing it over one shoulder, over the other, back to normal, twisting his watch, and just generally messing up Logan’s whole ‘put together’ image.

“Might as well bite the bullet,” Cadmium says out of nowhere, sliding the cardigan off his shoulders and swatting Logan’s hands away as he moves to put it on. “I’ll tell you when I need cooperation. Just hold still for a second.” Cadmium’s hands look remarkably similar to pale little birds, fluttering this way and that as he drapes the cardigan over Logan’s shoulders, messes with the sleeves, adjusts and readjusts the hem. He takes a few steps back every so often, considering the look from a different angle and starting over from scratch. “Okay. I am going to put my very tenuous trust in you for a second here, and if you betray it, I will literally tear apart your entire existence so hard that your great-grandparents will forget you ever existed.” Logan does a mix of nodding and shaking his head, raising his hands to show no ill will. Cadmium quirks his mouth to the side and slips off his headphones, settling them along the back of Logan’s neck. The unexpected weight is oddly pleasant. “Lean against that tree there, and put the sole of your foot up against the trunk. Higher. No, too high, do it like you’re not trying.”

“But I am trying.”

“Well, stop acting like it. Foot lower. Cross your arms. Higher. Flex your muscles.”

“I don’t have muscles.”

“No excuses. Fake it ’til you make it. Flex the biceps you don’t have.” As he directs Logan, Cadmium produces his phone from his pocket and takes on the responsibility of an entire swarm of paparazzi, darting this way and that for different camera angles. “Look at the water. Chin up, you’re getting a weird shadow along your—okay, now you’re just looking at the sky. Up and over your shoulder—foot down! Push up the sleeves of the cardigan. No, that just looks too intentional. Do it like this.” Cadmium drops the camera for a second to fix the sleeves himself, bunching them up at the elbow just so. “Okay, now stand like a normal human and walk toward the pond. I said normal! Just like you’re your normal weird self, tagging along on one of my tours. Arms down, you aren’t a security guard.” Cadmium bites at his bottom lip, squinting at his phone. “Okay, c’mere. If these don’t convince you, you’re just allergic to having your picture taken.” To Logan’s undying relief, Cadmium lowers his camera.

“Now give me back my crap.” Cadmium shrugs the cardigan over his shoulders, looking infinitely more at home than Logan could’ve ever thought possible, waving off his attempts to hand back the headphones. “Keep ’em on for a minute, they look cool on you.” This may come as a surprise, so just brace yourself, but Logan has never been called ‘cool’ before. “See here, in the first picture? Science gungle bungle dictates that we have to have a control, which I’m designating as this picture. Your posture is really stiff, like you think the cardigan’s gonna bite you or something. In these later ones, especially over on these leg-up passe pictures—the ones where your foot isn’t too high, at least—it looks way more natural.”

Cadmium continues talking, getting more into the breakdown as he leans against the tree beside Logan, but Logan hardly hears a word of it. He’s much too distracted with how Cadmium’s shoulder is bumping against his own, how their elbows knock together every time Cadmium points out some obscure detail Logan never would’ve picked up on, how he is literally wearing Cadmium’s own personal headphones around his own personal neck right now.

“So, um, what was all this for?” Logan asks. He almost doesn’t want to voice his confusion, so content is he to keep living in this moment. ‘Almost’ being the operative word here. His curiosity is just too strong to cope.

Cadmium lowers his phone and stares at Logan, incredulous. “Duh, it was to prove you wrong. Obviously you look good in a cardigan, and obviously I’m an absolute master with a camera. Pass me your coffee, and our transaction can be complete.” After taking a long pull from the cup, Cadmium taps the bottom of it and knocks down the last few dregs. “This was fun, given that it was a weird impromptu park walk. See you at the museum, then?”

“Wait, um, can I, um,” Logan sputters, pleading with his brain not to do this. Apparently his brain does not care what he wants. “Could I maybe get your number?”

Cadmium cocks his head to the side, considering what Logan hopes and prays comes across as an earnest expression. “Oh, dearest Logan, just remember that you can find me wherever fancy coffees are sold. Well, delivered, I guess. Here, actually, let me just—” Cadmium messes with his phone again, shielding the screen from Logan. “Okay, aaand—there we go! That oughta do it, don’t you think?” He flips the phone around, showing off a slightly more detailed profile description on his fetch quest app. Well, seven letters more detailed.

“Cadmium is spelled ‘iu,’ not ‘eu,’” Logan says, holding down a laugh. Cadmium’s eyes go wide as saucers.

“Oh my—right, yep, okay, cool, smooth move there Virrr—Cadmium. Cadmium. Is what I was going to say. Was Cadmium.”

“Sounded kind of like you were gonna say Vir—”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t.” Cadmium shoves his phone back into his pocket with a huff, but his tone is light enough to make it clear he’s kidding. At least, Logan hopes he isn’t actually mad. “So. Until we next meet at the museum, then?”

“Unless I decide I want another fetch kid’s delight.”

“Oh, please, you hate my usual.”

“Lies and slander.” Sometimes Logan would lie awake at night, wondering whether his mouth would ever do something of its own volition, without letting the words actually run through his mind first. Unfortunately (or fortunately—Logan hasn’t decided yet), today seems to be that day. “And what’re the odds that my next fetch kid’s delight delivery will precede an available afternoon on behalf of the fetch kid?”

Cadmium tilts his head, and suddenly Logan understands the meaning of ‘blinking owlishly.’ ���I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you? The life of a part time fetch kid can be a very busy existence.” With that, Cadmium presses his empty cup back into Logan’s hands and sets off for the gate where they began. Logan stares after him, still not totally clear on what just happened. His free hand flies to his neck, where Cadmium’s headphones are still resting, but the other is long out of hearing range before Logan thinks to call after him. He glances down at the cup, his eyes catching on a sharpie line peeking out from under his thumb. Definitely a capital V. Read it and find out Cadmium’s name? Don’t read it, thus preserving his privacy and trust (not to mention Logan’s great-grandpa’s memories of him)? Read, don’t, read, don’t, read—

Logan drops the cup in a garbage can and turns for the entrance without a second glance.

[whitewolfbumble]

Those Unspoken Years (Sam Wilson x Reader, One Shot)

Summary: You, Sam, and Riley were a team, but because you had failed on that one fateful mission, everything changed. Back home, you were still trying to work through your guilt when your old partner shows up and faces you again.

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Reader

Warnings: Death, PTSD, survivor’s guilt, language, some angst liberally peppered in!

Word Count: About 3.5k

A/N: This was an Anon Request for Sam Wilson: “Hey so I was hoping if you could write fanfic with sam wilson and reader, they were like great mates in army and they reunited again, you know something nice, maybe a bit angsty. It’s just there are not so many sam fanfics and I think he deserves so much love. Thank you in advance” I hope you enjoy love! It’s certainly a little bit intense in spots! Forgive me any ignorance for the army stuff... I am chill Canadian and not really into that kind of thing! lol

MY MASTERLIST // SEND A MARVEL REQUEST

“Ten miles out, sweeping the target zone.” you said into the comm.

Your boys were up there, already in position, waiting for your word. It was the second last mission before you left back to HQ then home. After this one you were air support for a convoy. Basic. An easy send off to a challenging and rewarding few years together as a team.

You were the 58th squadron, an elite pararescue team, skilled in the EXO-7 Falcon proto-type. No one was better than your team was.

The three of you had been a unit for three years now: training, living, surviving, and kicking ass together. You hadn’t expected it to be easy, but the three of you clicked faster than you thought.

You were their commanding officer. A woman, trying to keep in line two young flyboys with egos and attitudes too big to fit into a jet plane, much less a jet pack. But your own attitude rivaled most men and you had the added benefit of giving the orders here. Eventually your relationships eased into ones of respect and devout trust once they realized you were always right, you would always keep them safe, and you were definitively not without humour yourself.

By now, you actually loved these two jerks.

“Skies are looking good up here... I’m really going to miss this.” Riley said wistfully.

“Don’t worry soldier, the sky happens to be pretty well all over the world so youre in luck.” you teased.

“Ha, ha.” he said drily.

Though your voice was light and easy, your eyes were scanning the screens in front of you, bunkered down in a big canvas tent, boots digging into the sand underneath you. Your base of operations was wherever you needed it to be, and today it was in a scalding hot hidden inlet on the edge of a pile of rocks. Hidden from view, you stayed focused on the images in front of you, your two flyboys little blips on the screen.

Despite the satellite image you pictured them up there, cloud and air whipping past them, focused and flying free.

“Readjust Wilson, keep steady at 43 degrees.” you said in your smooth commanding tone, before switching back to your normal one. “I’m surprised you left that come-back to me Sam... Loosing your touch in your old age? We have been out here a few years now.”

“Flight path adjusted, 43 degrees. Confirmed.” said Sam. “Hardly, just looking forward to getting the sand out of my boots for good and home to sweet ole American soil.”

“Aren’t we all.” you agreed, shifting your boots in deeper. “Eight miles out and counting.”

“Eight miles. Confirmed.” came Riley’s voice.

“So where are we flying off to after this?” Sam said. “I’m thinking somewhere at night...”

“A boozy downtown bar.” you filled in, continuing his idea.

You were used to playing this game with Sam. Imagining happier scenarios than the ones you were in kept you all sane. Of course it would be shut down by you before they engaged, but it kept any nerves at bay in the meantime. The storm was bad enough sometimes, and waiting for it in anxious silence just made it worse.

You had tried in the early days to play the three of you, but Riley’s suggestions were always boring when he did answer, which usually had took ten minutes. Part of the game included the one who broke the chain had to buy a round of drinks. Riley would always make you both break out of feigned frustration so it was easier just to exclude him (much to everyone’s playful jabs back at the base).

“Playing Smokey Robinson.”

“With one smoking hot bartender Jacques.” you teased, flicking on the backup satellite locator, used to pinpoint your two flyboys should satellite one go down.

You were always careful. It had kept the three of you alive so long. Triple checking and vetting any intel was part of the daily routine.

“With you there, I have all the smoking hot I need.” Sam quipped.

“Ha ha, yeah right Wilson.” you said, interrupting the game. It meant you had to buy the next round, but you didn’t care.

“What? This is our last mission. I can finally start flirting with you.” he said.

“Second last,” you corrected, keeping the flutter in your stomach down. “I’m still you commanding officer until it’s done.”

“And when it’s done, I’ll ask you out to that downtown bar.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure you will.” you said, a little roll to your eyes to no one. 

More than once Sam had flirted with you- just a little- but just enough to keep you wondering and keep a little burning heat flaming in your gut. Deflecting was easier than going along with his subtle words. It would save your heart quite the crashing fall if he was just joking.

You were secretly head of heels for that sarcastic, kind-hearted fool. His bravery and soul-rooted goodness shocked you time and time again. He had not once failed to do the right- and often the hard- thing. Your respect for Sam had grown through the years, planting itself deeper in your heart day by day. In a world full of blood and death and bullets, his steadfast warm-heartedness remained.

And now it wasn’t long until you could find out for sure if he felt the same.

But also, not long until you could actually act on it. Once this and the next mission was done, he would no longer be your subordinate. You could flirt with him as much as you wanted too. Go on that date like you wanted too. Find out if kissing him was an exercise in expressing his gentle spirit, or intensity like he had during a fight...

“Alright boys, comms cleared.” you said, clearing your throat. It was definitely warm in here, for a few reasons. “We’re t-minus five miles until the target. Systems and secure comm check now.”

“Sam, systems cleared. Mission is a go.”

“Riley, systems cleared. Mission is a go.”

“You know the drill, and easy point a shoot, alright. Target coordinates are locking in now, just following the big green ball, grab the loot, then turn tail and fly home. No heroes today, neither of you are cut out for it”

You switched your target system from standby to active, the recon team under your command having swept and vetted the area. The target- Khalid Khandil- was clear, located in a small building on a large private property lot. 

Rampant security detail kept helicopters or more serious artillery from moving in, so your elite squad was called in. The mission was to take out the security detail surround him, extract the target, and get back to base. Minimal casualties predicted. Stealth and speed was the name of your game, and the three of you had that in spades.

“All points, confirm guidance system up.” you continued, flicking on systems in prep for engagement.

“Guidance confirmed.” they both rung out. Little green lights should be lighting up the enemies in their googles now, while yours were on another screen that tracked their vitals

“One mile out. Okay, make me proud boys.” you said, as you always did. “Engage full force when you are within range.”

You were miles and miles away from them so all you had was you monitor screen of the satellite image and their voices on the comm. But you had been in the field yourself for years. You knew exactly how harry a fight could get, and how fast.

The comms were silent now, everyone holding their tongue as their energy went into focusing, breathing, and mentally preparing for this mission.

It only took a few minutes for everything to go to shit and your worst nightmare became your reality.

“Firing at will!” Sam yelled in his comm, sudden sounds of bullets ringing out. “Enemies engaged!”

The boys rang out the numbers they took down, calling back for support from the other when needed, you directing and commanding the two from afar.

But soon you heard explosions above the bullets. They were terribly loud with a high pitched keening sound before a cracking boom. You knew that sound.

“Wilson, confirm what it is I’m hearing. Are there explosions RPG’s?” 

Your screen was lighting up like bursts of light were popping up all around them. You knew what it was before you asked, your stomach sinking.

“Confirmed! RPG’s!” Riley answered back, yelling over the shrieking noise, unending sound of a full firefight coming in loud and clear.

“Ten men down- shit!- eleven!” Sam roared, dodging grenades and explosions.

This was wrong, the fight should be over by now. On your screen you saw multiple enemies looking to be coming out of bunkers among the flashes of light. 

This kind of engagement was too much for the two of them. Your recon of the area didn’t pull any of this up and they needed to get out of there now.

“Pull back!” you shouted to them. “That’s an order!”

Your instincts were generally flawless, and this may have just started but it wasn't ending fast enough. You didn’t consistently win and you didn’t save lives by taking unnecessary risks. Your commanders put a lot of stock in that, appreciating you taking such good care of their expense equipment. You more so cared about the men in it.

You watched the two of them whiz around the area chaotically, trying to avoid grenades rocketed in the air, exploding all around them.

“Squad, I’m pulling you out now! Get back to base, that is an order. We aren’t pr-” you started, before Riley spoke over you.

“They all have them, I can’t -we can’t-”

An explosion rang out loud in your headset, jerking you from a tense sitting position to standing, eyes wildly searching the screen for your squad.

His terrified, pained scream blasted your ears on the other end, before silence.

And in that moment your world was shot out of the sky.

“Wilson, Riley!” you screamed into the headset, heart somehow both racing and stopped in your chest. “Confirm your positions!”

But the screen didn’t lie. 

He was gone.

Riley was gone.

Shot out of the sky.

Miles away from him, you watched their vitals, one little blip where two should be.

You were the commanding officer. 

This was on you. 

Solely on you. 

You had killed him.

“Sam,” you said, voice low and loud, instantly in full commander mode. “Our satellite has Riley down, can you confirm?”

“He’s... he’s.” Sam sputtered, then let out a ferocious yell, whizzing through the air, firing everything he had in shock and pain and fury. You saw enemy after enemy go down at his skilled hand.

“Confirm damn it!”

“Confirmed.” he yelled eventually, voice cracking. “I have an opening, do I have confirmation to take it?

You paused a split second before continuing, shocked and weighing your options quickly. Voice steady you answered as your eyes filling up with tears.

“You complete this mission and get that son of a bitch, then get your ass back here now, soldier! That’s an order!”

Years later, you were back in D.C.

Your life since losing Riley was a myriad of deep uncover missions, taking you farther and farther away from that day, from Sam, from all of it. You received medals and honours, some public knowledge, many off the books. 

Your determination wasn’t about the recognition. It was about burying the pain of losing both Riley and Sam in the same day. In different ways they were both out of your life forever. The guilt of Riley’s death on your shoulders, the unspoken love for Sam strangling your heart.

You had a hard time with Riley’s death to this day but in the days just after the mission, it was a thousand times worse. You remembered the look on Sam’s face as he came back to base with Khalid Khandil in tow. Soldiers carried the man off, leaving the two of you there alone.

As you reached out for him, you dusty, grim soldier, you almost completely broke yourself. The only think keeping you up was how much Sam broke in your arms. He cracked and cried and crushed you under the weight of his grief. You held each other, riding out waves of pain and anguish and failure. But eventually, he pushed you away, wiping his eyes and leaving, unable to be near you.

He shut you down. And you understood why,

It had been your fault. All of it. You should have known. You should have been there. You should have managed the situation better. It was on you. And it was right that Sam blamed you. That he push you away because of it.

So Sam retired from the army, moving back to D.C.. But you couldn’t do that. Your punishment wasn’t enough. And you figured Sam wouldn't want you now, even in the same country as you.

So you stayed. And you fought. And you rose through the ranks. You collected badges and medals and honours and respect. You were an unstoppable, uncompromising force, channeling every bad experience you had into winning, into protecting those that you could protect. Because you couldn’t protect Riley. And you didn’t have the one person in this world that could make you feel something, anything resembling love or joy.

But your time there was not endless. It couldn’t be, even your superiors understood that.

So here you were now, back in D.C. of all places, on a special request. The last one you would receive.

The hall was dressed up simply, beige walls and folding chairs in front of the podium. They had moved it down off the stage at the back to the main floor, wanting a closer, more intimate feel.

Little flags and banners and frills were covered in red white and blue here. Your three colours were different: brown and black and red. Dirt and darkness and blood.

“Last week when I flew back here from my hometown,” you continued to the small crowd. A crowd of veterans and soldiers that understood your trauma. 

“I had a flight attendant with the same name as him. And all I could hear for the rest of the flight was the sound of him screaming as they killed him. As I let him die. It’s filled my dreams. It’s what I heard every time I put on my headset for a mission. The sound of a man- of a friend- dying because of my failure.”

You weren’t crying. You weren’t close to this anymore. It was life. This pain was what you’ve been experiencing for years. Crying over it now you might outwardly say to someone was childish, but inwardly you knew you just couldn’t spend that emotional energy on it. You had never fully dealt with it and just didn’t really know how. Same with the love you felt.

But you looked at the crowd of soldiers, all there for the same reason. They were all carrying the pain of the death of someone or the price of killing someone. They were trying. You all were trying to deal with this baggage.

“I came back here to receive my final honour for my service. A special ceremony in my honour, here at the capital. But all I’m going to be able to think about is the fact that he won’t be able to do that. That he didn’t get a chance. That he would've been a far better soldier than I turned out to be.”

You took a gulp of air before taking a gulp of water from a little dixie cup you brought up with you.

“But I’m going to try now. Try to grieve. Try to live. In honour of him, but for myself.”

Without the army as a cover, you had no choice but to do so now. 

With that, you sat down, and the speaker took up his spot back at the podium. He wrapped up the session, coming back to you to shake your hand afterward. You didn’t feel much like talking, so you politely excused yourself to get another little paper cup of water.

You didn’t notice that someone had been watching from the doorway behind you the entire time.

Standing at the little refreshment table, you threw away the little dixie cup, lingering while the others began filing out. You heard someone walking up beside you and turned to see a man you were not at all expecting.

Sam Wilson.

He hadn’t changed a bit, not to your eyes.

Wearing jeans and button up unlike the last time you saw him, he still wore the same crooked smile that always had made you smile unconsciously back.

This time you just couldn’t.

“Sam,” you breathed.

Shocked, he pulled you in for a hug. Memories of Sam coming back after Riley’s death, breaking in your arms flooded your mind.

When he pulled away, you cleared your throat, stepping back a little.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” you said, still shocked. You stomach was on the floor and your heart in your throat. “How are you?”

“Doing well, living my own life now.” he said lightly, though his eyes told another story. You just weren’t sure what. “Congratulations on your honour... though I just don’t think you’ve been doing too great huh.”

He nodded to the podium. You swallowed, unsure how to respond. 

How did you even talk to someone you had known deeply- had loved deeply- that was absent from your life for years? You had at one time spoken to him about your dreams, your feelings (save the ones for him), your goals and plans, everything. And he had done the same. 

Should you act like you had forgotten? That he wasn’t still- even after all these years- the most important person that has ever been in your life?

“I’ve taken my time,” you admitted. “Don’t know if I will ever get over it.

“Don’t say that.” he said, stepping forward, taking your hand. You looked at his hand in yours, feeling the smooth warmth spread across your fingers. Another, familiar warmth spread in your stomach.

It was only for a moment before he let go and stepped back a little. 

“I don’t mean to... well, I’m sure you have someone else in your life now, to help you.”

“No, not quite. The army kind of disapproves of that kind of thing on the job, and that’s where I’ve been since you left.”

“I didn’t want to leave.” Sam said, suddenly. Fuck, that wasn’t the point you were trying to make.

“No, no, you... I’m sorry, I don’t know why I put it like that.” It was impossible to think you would be this awkward with him of all people, but here you were, proving yourself wrong.

“I wanted to stay, Y/N. Really I did.” he said, voice low and rich like you remember it to be. “I would have stayed by you forever. But I just didn’t think you wanted me too.”

... What?

“Why did you think that?” you said, more than a little floored.

Before Sam could answer, a few volunteers came in to put away and clean the refreshment table you were standing against. Sam lightly took your elbow, leading you across the hall to a small, quiet room.

He took a moment, hands on his hips before getting into it. You tried not to focus on his lips, somewhat unsuccessfully. God, it had just been so long since you laid eyes on him. Long enough to convince yourself that the man you remembered was not the same as the real deal. But heart-achingly, he was even better.

“Listen, Riley’s death was awful.” Sam started, trying to find the words. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget that or him. Because it was my fault. He was my partner and he died beside me. You blaming me for that and not want me around wa-”

“What?!” you exclaimed, completely floored before just letting the floodgates you had pent up for years open wide, unbelieving he could possibly have felt that way. Now the tears started coming, filling up your eyes with a vengeance for the years you denied them.

“I was the commanding officer. He was mine to look after, to protect. You both were. And I failed. I felt shattered, guilty for so many reasons, and I thought you didn’t want me around. I loved you and knew that it was all my fault, that you would never-”

But you didn’t finish, Sam’s arms wrapping around your waist, arms pulling you closer while his body pushed you back against the wall. He lips were suddenly set to yours, earnest and sweet.

He pulled away only slightly to look down at you. You hadn’t had enough time to stop the tears, looking up at him through still watery, stunned eyes.

“I uh, I understand now you said “loved” as in you don’t anymore...”

“You’re right,” you swallowed, gaze locked to his, drinking in his eyes and smell and heat pressed against you. “I said “loved” but I... meant, well I mean... love. I loved you then, and I just... never stopped.”

You felt his chest well with emotion, jaw clenching tight against it. You expected him to kiss you again, passionate and intense as his eyes grew a deep, fiery look. But instead, he softly moved his fingers across your cheek, surprising you with how gentle he was, then into your hair.

“I loved you too. I still do.” he said softly.

He might have kissed you. He might have literally just said he loved you. But you still couldn’t believe it. Not after all this time longing and aching for him.

“Since day one in fact, when you berated my ass for making a stupid, cocky decision, and saved my life in doing so.” he said, smiling at the fond early days you had together.

“Yeah,” you joked, looking down and wiping a tear away. “You were the worst soldier I had seen. I’m surprised you made it out alive.”

You let that line slip, heart sinking and body shocked still as you remembered.

Riley. 

Oh god, the pain gripped you again, seizing your lungs and soul. 

But Sam leaned back in, wrapping you into him deeply. He stood, holding you together like you had done for him once.

“I got through this,” he whispered in your ear. “Let me help you get through this.”

All you could do was wrap your arms tightly around him, pressing your face into him. 

"Just don’t let go, not this time.” you whispered through choking tears.

“Never.”

Thank you for the request, Anon! I have yet to read a single Sam fic or write for him, so I’d love to hear what you all thought!

Tags: @dontpanc @thefalconsam (because well, Sam)pp

[loki-hargreeves]

The Apprentice - Loki Imagine [Part 4]

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4][PART 5]

Warnings; This Chapter; - close description of panic/fear

Your P.O.V.

Ever since our conversation that had lasted an entire day, everything had been much better. It was exactly two weeks ago we spoke and I was happy. Currently, Loki and I were on the cliff, this time practising magic. This place was isolated from everyone else so it was so easy to focus and sink into the moment. Nobody seemed to come here so it was just the two of us and occasionally the horses down the cliff that were drinking, resting or eating. 

‘‘Your focus is becoming better, keep it up’‘ Loki complimented me. I was keeping up some rocks around me, trying to assemble them in a pile. My fingers were pointing at the stones I couldn’t look at, just to help me remember them. They weren’t that heavy but I knew I couldn’t pick them up by myself. It required some very hard focusing to have them all levitating in the air at the same time. Also, Loki’s warmhearted compliment helped.

It didn’t take long until I had made a good pile, well perhaps not a good one but it was a pile indeed! I cut the connection between me and the objects, then standing straight as I faced Loki, waiting for him to say something- anything. He looked at the pile of rocks closely, mumbling something by himself before facing me. ‘’Not bad’’ He told me which meant the world to me. He approved of it which meant we were basically done for the day. The sun was still up so today had we had processed more than planned even in time.

‘‘It’s a bit early to go back’‘ I noticed, knowing that people would be wondering what we were doing back early if we’d leave now. ‘‘You’re right’‘ Loki agreed, walking to the edge so he could look down. He did that every once in a while to check on the horses. His heart for children and animals was big, that was one thing I had learned. During one lesson, we had walked the streets of Asgard to find some specific things we needed. Obviously, Asgardians had recognized him. I had seen a little girl run up to him with the biggest toothless smile. Loki had tried to behave royally as people expected but I saw right through him. He was more than happy to speak to the little girl who clearly adored him. It was a beautiful memory.

‘‘Do you want to climb all the way up?’‘ Loki wondered, pointing at the top of the hill. I looked up, narrowing my eyes at the sun. It was going to take a while but I was up for a challenge. ‘‘Sure, it seems like fun’‘ I said happily, ready to walk and climb our way to the top. I was sure the view would be priceless. The top was quite high up so I knew we would reach the top possibly right before sunset. Watching the sunset with Loki sounded dangerously thrilling. 

So together, we began to walk, following the ancient path that had been made out of rocks and dirt by whoever had walked here before. Some parts were steep so we had to climb which meant we had to use our hands too. A few weeks ago I would’ve cringed at the thought of climbing so much but now, since I was more fit, it was fun. Spending time with Loki was also fun, which I had to admit. Now that we were on good terms, everything had been a lot better and even he seemed to enjoy our lessons now. It didn’t feel as forced as before.

After climbing for an hour, we both agreed to rest on a small spot big enough for the two of us to sit on. Loki went first since he was better at this than I. Honestly, I was right behind him and for a moment, I got too confident. I didn’t focus as hard as I should’ve and then the worst imaginable happened. I felt how my fingers didn’t catch onto anything and my arm was hanging by my side. ‘’No!’’ I screamed, desperately trying to kick myself up or get some support but my feet were slipping like I was running on ice.

That’s when my heart literally sunk to my stomach. It felt like all the warmth escaped my body and I got covered in cold sweat. Loki heard my yelp and he looked down at me, obviously scared I had fallen already. It was close since I was hanging by one arm, too scared to actually think about what I was doing. It led me to move quickly with no success and it drained my energy. That led to my muscles to burn.

‘‘Loki’‘ I whimpered, his name barely leaving my mouth. Tears stung my eyes and it felt like all the guts twisted inside my body sickly. My mind was screaming that I would fall all the way down. ‘‘Y/N, grab my hand’‘ Loki growled, suddenly reaching down for me. I blinked and noticed my surroundings were hazy. I just stared at his hand that seemed like it was too far away.

I heard a rock falling down which caused me to look away from Loki’s hand and straight underneath me. Since I was so terrified in the moment, it looked like I could see clouds underneath me. The ground was so far down that even the horses seemed like ants. ‘’No no no’’ I whispered, closing my eyes then since I couldn’t stand looking down. I knew I could fall and it would be the end of me. If not that, it would hurt like hell!

‘‘Y/N!’‘ Loki yelled my name, making me face him again. That’s when I tried to move my other arm that was nearly limp. I forced myself to raise it which was surprisingly hard up here. Silent tears were rolling down my face as my trembling fingers reached for Loki’s. Our hands were that close yet it was too far away. I had to bite my tongue in an attempt to stay as calm as I could although truth be told, I was panicking. It was a miracle I wasn’t screaming like a child.

Loki pushed himself further down and a moment later, he got a grip of my hand.  Goosebumps appeared on my skin as he held me because I knew I was so close to safety. ‘’Hold on’’ He told me and then gritted his teeth. I squeezed his hand for dear life and then gulped. My palms were sweaty so I was scared his grip would slip. 

Focus.

I had to focus.

I placed my foot on the wall of the cliff, searching for a spot I could use to climb. As I found one, I pushed myself up as Loki pulled me. Before I knew it, he had gotten me over the edge. He wrapped both arms around my waist as I was close enough, then backing away from the dangerous edge. I was too shocked to understand I was safe so I was just completely clueless in his arms for a while. My mind was still glued to the thought of a horrible pain waiting and my heart was nearly exploding. My entire body was like a quivering leaf and I could hardly breathe.

‘‘Thank lords..’‘ Loki breathed out which made me see my surroundings. I wasn’t hanging anymore. I could feel the ground and his legs underneath me which meant we were safe. Loki had saved me. The realization caused my hot tears to keep rolling down my face. I was ashamed I was crying so I nuzzled against his chest, trying to hide my tears. I didn’t want to sob but as I held my breath, I was trembling even more. Eventually,  I couldn’t hold them in and a terrifying moan left my mouth as I held onto Loki in search for comfort. He didn’t seem to mind, in fact, he was willing to give me that much-needed comfort. He held me close and gently caressed my back, allowing me to weep my fear away.

‘‘I’m sorry- I..I’m sorry’‘ I apologized, feeling guilty for some reason. ‘‘No shh, it’s okay Y/N. Why should you be sorry?’‘ Loki questioned me with a soft voice. It sounded like he had been worried too. I was just so grateful that he didn’t let me fall. I mean, he could’ve gotten rid of me like that. But he didn’t. 

‘‘This is high enough, don’t you think? We can stay here for a while before we return to the ground’‘ Loki suggested after a while. I wasn’t sobbing anymore. I was in that state after crying where everything was a bit too much and I was slowly calming down. I nodded, shifting slightly so I could look at the view. We were high indeed. I could see the big, golden castle from here. The sun was finally setting and it cast a golden glimmer upon Asgard. The trees were swaying in the wind ever so slightly, the river was running, filling the air with a natural salty scent that mixed beautifully with the sweet scent of trees. I saw birds, some flying alone, some in flocks. It was absolutely gorgeous and certainly a relaxing sight. In the far distance, I saw the end of the Bi-frost. That’s where the sun was going too. 

I leaned against Loki’s shoulder, my hand holding onto his cape as I sighed, finally calm again. It just made me realize how damn terrified I had been. Loki had been me like that. But I didn’t care. I knew he’d see me in such a terrifying state eventually, perhaps not to so soon but it happened and there was nothing I could do about it.

Just as the sun was setting, half of it already hiding behind the waters, painting the blue orange, I smiled. ‘’Thank you, Loki’’ I thanked him for saving my life. My eyes couldn’t leave the glimmering water and the pink sky that turned more purple as the sun disappeared. It didn’t take long until there was barely a sun left to see as stars began to hand above us. It was romantic, nearly. Well not nearly. This was very romantic but we weren’t here because of that.

‘‘I couldn’t let you fall, silly’‘ Loki said honestly, trying to lighten up the mood. Although I wasn’t looking at him, I felt his eyes on me. Before I could say anything, the sun had completely set. Loki had missed the moment where everything turned dark and the stars and realms hiding in the darkness came to view. He missed that because he had been looking at me.

____

It was late in the evening but the castle was awake. Some of Odin’s friends from another realm were visiting and he hosted a big, generous dinner. Well, generous, I was sure it was Frigga’s idea to set more than an apple on the table. As the maids had walked into my room with a beautiful dress, I had been confused. They told me Odin wished to see me around the dining table too. I never expected an invitation like that so I accepted. I didn’t have a choice but I didn’t mind going.

The dress was very elegant. It hugged my body just perfectly and the top was embroidered with lace, slightly lighter than my exposure. The skirt was silky and I was surprised to see that the side had a slit, reaching slightly above my knee. The dress was one of the most gorgeous ones I had ever seen so I was more than happy to wear it. I didn’t even realize that I found myself imagining what Loki would think of the dress. Or perhaps if he’d join. I was quite sure he would and I hoped so too.

I left my room, following a guard who took me to the dining room. Before I would step inside, I spotted Loki who seemed to be waiting for someone. For a slight moment, I was confused about who he was waiting for. I could hear voices inside the room which meant people were already there. ‘’Hi Loki’’ I whispered, allowing the guard to leave now. He noticed me and smiled, the tiny gesture making my heart flutter like a butterfly in a jar. 

‘‘Hey-’‘ He said and then noticed my dress. He was literally staring at me like he had seen something out of the ordinary and the look on his face made me feel a bit shy. It didn’t take long until he cleared his throat and locked eyes with me again. ‘‘You look magnificent, petal’‘ He complimented me, giving me a nickname too which made me feel special. ‘‘You look pretty good yourself, Prince’‘ I let him know with the biggest grin on my face. 

‘‘Thank you for saving me, I can’t thank you enough’‘ I then remembered, trying not to make things awkward by looking like a school girl who had laid eyes on what she deeply desired. As Loki was about to answer, I heard someone else clearing their throat. I turned around quickly, standing near Loki as we both saw whoever had heard our conversation. My eyeballs almost rolled on the floor as I saw Frigga, hi smother in a stunning green dress with blue details on it and purple jewels around her neck. Her lips had been painted pink and she was giving us a suspicious look. I was slightly embarrassed that the queen had heard us. Now that I thought about it, I realized our conversation had been a bit friendly, different than what people might’ve expected only a couple weeks ago.

‘‘Do you want to join us or do you have other plans?’’ Frigga wondered, looking behind her at the door that would lead us to the dining room. A delicious smell caught my attention and my stomach nearly rumbled. I was hungry and the food there was going to be amazing.

‘‘We’re coming, mother’‘ Loki nodded and so stepped beside me, offering me his arm since that was a gentleman thing to do and he was a prince. We couldn’t just barge in either. ‘‘Good’’ Frigga smiled and walked in ahead of us. I faced Loki who seemed rather proud. I was glad he wasn’t ashamed to walk inside with me, his apprentice.

As we walked inside the bright room, lit by candles, heads turned to us almost dramatically. I saw Thor with his four friends, the warriors three and lady Sif. Then I saw some unfamiliar faces who were speaking with Odin. He seemed to enjoy himself. Frigga took a seat beside her husband and Loki led us to the two empty seats. Finally, we sat down too and I eyed the people around us. Something told me, this dinner would be alright. 

‘‘You’re finally here’‘ Thor was the first one to acknowledge us. ‘‘We are’‘ Loki answered shortly, his voice was quite low. Sif right beside Thor and I noticed something about them immediately. I knew they weren’t together but the way Sif sat, legs crossed, directed at Thor and her finger twirling her dark hair, I knew she had feelings for the God of Thunder. I wasn’t a prude so I wouldn’t say anything about it. I hoped to make friends with them eventually. 

Odin stood up at the end of the table which caused everyone to shut up and look at the king. He looked at his guests, then at Frigga before eyeing Loki and me for a bit longer than expected. ‘’Welcome, everyone. My old friends have arrived at Asgard today so we shall spend this dinner with them. Please, enjoy yourselves’’ He gave us the cue to dig in. Thor’s friend, Volstagg  It think, almost cheered as he heard the words. As everyone began to gather food on their plates, the conversation abrupted to life again and I couldn’t help but giggle at the warriors three. The friendship between them radiated joy. I wished to have such connections too but now I would settle with watching them from the other side of the table. I didn’t mind.

As we were eating and drinking fine wines and beer, Frigga decided to speak to Loki and me again. ‘’How is training?’’ She wondered while holding her glass elegantly. She had mastered the ways of a queen yet she was so badass too. ‘’Everything’s going well, mother. Y/N can already make the rocks levitate, you know, the ones on the hill’’ Loki explained proudly, clearly enjoying his position as my mentor more than before. I blushed as he spoke of what he had taught me. It was just so surreal.

‘‘What?’‘ Thor joined in as he had clearly kept his ears on alert. ‘‘She’s already beating me on magic!’‘ He laughed, raising his beer before taking a huge sip. ‘‘It’s because you can’t focus, you big oaf’‘ Sif slapped his bicep playfully, causing the others to laugh too. Thor and Sif began to have their own conversation as I ate my food, hoping that nobody would speak to me as I chewed my food.

‘‘Are they a couple?’‘ I heard a woman’s voice that belonged to one of Odin’s guests. I wasn’t sure who they were talking about but I noticed their eyes were on Loki and me. That’s when I got a better look of them. It looked like an older couple and two of their children, one of them was a boy with red hair that reached his shoulders as the girl had long red hair in a pretty braid. All of their eyes were very big, bright blue or green. I wasn’t sure where they were from but they all looked charming.

‘‘No, that’s my son Loki and his apprentice, Y/N’‘ Odin cleared the confusion and I was quick to look away. That’s when Loki leaned closer to me, probably to say something for my ears only. ‘‘When we were children, Odin threatened that I’d have to marry her one day’‘ He whispered, keeping on a poker face. Clearly, my poker face was bad as my eyes widened and I stared at him in disbelief. He just smirked, then laughing for some reason. ‘‘How is that funny?’‘ I raised my eyebrows, sure that Loki’s sense of humour was either sick or...

..he was joking.

‘‘I just had to see your face, Y/N’‘ He tried to stop his innocent little laughs but failed. I clenched my jaw and attempted to look disappointed but soon, I was giggling too.

‘‘Would you tell us what happened today?’‘ Frigga spoke to us again. This time, her voice was louder and other people listened curiously. I had no idea what she was talking about until she made herself clearer. ‘‘You thanked him for saving you, what happened?’‘ She wanted to know, her voice sweet but very keen. Now everyone was listening, expecting a short dinner tale.

Oh god...

Loki noticed that I was unfamiliar with the situation so he was dear enough to help me out. ‘’We were training today, which went all well and we were finished early’’ He began, placing his hand on my wrist to keep me calm. I smiled and tried to catch on. ‘’So we decided to climb the rest of the hill’’ I noted, surprised I wasn’t trembling. Usually, a situation like this would make me so anxious I’d freeze. But with Loki helping me, I thought I could do this.

Together, we finished the story of what had happened only a few hours ago. It had been terrifying but already, it was a precious memory. For a moment, everything seemed completely fine and I was genuinely happy.

[PART 5]

Author’s Note: Two updates in a day, you can tell I’m excited. I have a million ideas for this but I have to chill. Thoughts? <3 Also thank you for your kind and sweet feedback so far! It means so much to me.

I have actually nearly died from a similar situation and I swear it was terrifying. Luckily, I was tied to a rope that was secured by a guy who was holding it. So he was my Loki in that situation. 

The Apprentice tags; @yuna-belikova  @chloe-skywalker  @colagirl5 @infp-lovesyou @part-time-patronus @nizem8@priincesspriincesspriincess  @saved-by-stucky @fussballerina1909

Forever Taglist;  @iraniq @embrycallsgirl @blackroseyaz  @puddins-princess @r-alexandra01

[cutegirlmayra]

Would you make a prompt about sonic feeling upset about the swifty incident and his friends comforting him? (Sorry if I tire you out with boom things but i think that is the most deliciously adorkable representation of sonic universe)

Prompts are on shutdown, Cutegirlmayra.tumblr.com/commissions option, and if you see a prompt not reblogged by @idontworkforsega please let him know!

Now that business is out of the way,…

Oh, yes. Your darling prompt, how rude of me. Shall we begin?

(And you’re quite right. Boom is fun to play with.)

Prompt:

Tails was working on his plane as Amy handed him tools.

“You know, Sonic hasn’t spoken a word about how he’s been feeling every since that Swifty incident.” Amy was aimlessly handed Tails tools at this point, looking away and thinking out loud, distracted as Tails’s signature twin tails would try and keep up with all the equipment she passed to him. “He’s just been so quiet lately… I’m growing worried that maybe he hasn’t forgiven everyone for how we treated him when Swifty was around.”

Her eyes arched in concern as her hands moved faster, and Tails leaned up from the cockpit, looking around him at the piles of tools and getting drowned in them. “W-woah!” He tried to hold some with his hands, his tails already wrapped around all they could, and looked around at his impending doom.

“I know! I mean, I should be used to Sonic not expressing himself so openly about it… but I really worry he’s bottling up something this time. Or is it just me? Is he upset with me!?” She suddenly cupped her hands on the sides of her face, shaking her head in horror. “Ohh!” she panicked, flinging more tools behind her.

A muffled ‘Amy!’ rang out as she stopped and turned around.

Tails blinked his exposed eyes, the whole of his body submerged under tools except from his nose up.

He looked annoyed, “Pah!” he wiggled his head out a bit, “Maybe we could talk to Sonic.” He tried to move his stuck hands a bit, the fingers wiggling from below as he gave her a forfeiting smile.

When they went to see him, it was clear he was still trying to come up with a catchphrase.

“Not today, Egghead!” His smile was cheap and his finger-guns over-exaggerated. “No, no… It’s over now, Egghead~” he tried to sound more western, sticking out his chest and deepening his voice. “No.. no…” He turned around, scratching his chin before flinging himself around, “Not on Taco Tuesdays, You Egg-…huh?” his finger-guns, still going strong with that ‘gut’ feeling that they should be included, were sticking towards Amy, Tails, Knuckles, and Sticks. The original two had spoken with them and gotten them together.

Amy stepped forward, “Sonic… We’ve been worried about you lately.”

“W-worried?” He looked down at his finger-guns, and awkwardly let out a chuckle as he threw them behind his back. “W-why would you be worried about me? I’m Sonic The Hedgehog! Fastest thing alive!” he struck another pose.

The gang looked to each other, before giving a pity laugh.

“Sonic, we’re worried you’re still not over the whole ‘Swifty’ thing.” Tails moved over towards him, gesturing his hand out as if wanting to wrap his arm around Sonic’s shoulders in comfort, but realized he was too small and just dropped it. “Heh…heh…” he tugged on his side-ways belt. “Forgot how tall you were…”

Sonic frowned immensely. “No, you just remember how short Swifty was.” He folded his arms and looked away.

“Oh, Radical speed!” Knuckles did the finger-guns, “Yeah, that guy was wicked cool.”

The others glared at him.

“I mean… dang… what a lousy sellout. I mean… a theme park gig? Really? Foul play… wait, why are we mad at Swifty again? I thought he was cool! I preordered his shirt line! Never did see that limited edition Swifty hat, though…” Knuckles pouted, bending forward and talking mostly up and away from everyone in mumbles.

Sonic shook his head, groaning and turning away. “Look, if you guys are trying to comfort me and tell me I’m still the coolest or something, I’m not looking for your charity.” He waved them off, “I just… want to be alone.”

“Liar!” Sticks jumped up onto a stone nearest to Sonic, before he glared at her and walked away. “You… missed it all, didn’t you?” She crawled along the rock formation, before jumping behind and across from him to land on another few boulders beside him. “When they dragged you to that boundary line… you missed your nice, calm hammock.”

Sonic’s annoyed expression suddenly turned tender and goofy. “I do love that hammock.”

“That scent of Mcburger in the morning… evening… night?” Sticks stopped to sniff the air a moment. “Ah! Do we even check the sky when we go to eat at the only joint selling food in this place? Seriously, no one saw that monopoly?” she gestured her hand around, “Conspiracies aside- I think you missed us too. Adoring you.” She mimicked the cries of a crowd, as Sonic finally stopped and breathed in the air.

“Yeah… I-hahaha-I do love a good Mcburger. We eat there a lot, huh?”

“Sorry, that’s probably me.” Knuckles drafted his backend with his hand. As he fanned, Tails and Amy stepped further out to the side of him, disgusted.

Tails had to cover his mouth from gagging.

Knuckles whistled, “Haha… nothing to smell over here… Sorry, Amy. You’re kinda downwind.”

“Oh!” she gagged then too, rushing over to Sonic, her hand still over her muzzle and nose. “Look! Sonic…” she placed her free hand on his shoulder, turning him around. “You know we’d never choose one cool friend over the other, right? I mean, you may have been the jerk at first-“

“Hey!”

“But at least you’re my jerk.” Her eyes sparkled a moment at him as she lowered her hand and moved closer, fawning over him before catching herself and removing her hands from his chest. “Oh! I-I meant… Our… Jerk… haha.” She giggled nervously.

“Really? Didn’t you order the set of Swifty collectables first, Amy?”

“Quiet. Knuckles.” Amy gritted her teeth, turning around with each word to shush him up.

“Ehh.. I guess you’re right. I did get a little… steamed. I just felt he was taking you all from me.” He frowned and folded his arms, upset.

After seeing this, Amy felt more relieved, “Aww… Sonic.” She placed a hand to her heart as Tails smiled.

“You know that’d never happen. We’re best friends!”

“The bestest.” Sonic brofisted him, nodding.

“And we’re unstoppable!” Sticks came down, also fist-bumping him.

“The most… uh… unstoppable!”

“And we’re not robots!” Knuckles arched the side of his stomach and leaned on one foot, jamming both fists out for the gesture to also be given to him as well.

“O-oh… yeah… heheh…” Sonic looked away, but fisted him.

“You… did know he was a robot before spin dashing into him… right Sonic?” Amy raised an eyebrow, wearily holding out a fist as Sonic eyed her, looked away, then quickly back and fist bumped her too.

“Why would you think I didn’t think otherwise? Haha…” he shrugged, fiddling with his hands being speedily withdrawn behind his back…

“Otherwise… as in… you did know?”

“It was fishy.”

“MY BOWLS!” The fish cried out from a far distance, but no one saw him, so they all just looked around.

“I’ll need to do something about that fish.” Sticks’s eyes turned intense.

Knuckles added to the intensity, “He knows too much.”

Tails shook his head, “He’ll forget in a matter of minutes. All Goldfishes have a short-term memory.”

“Tails!” Knuckles suddenly snapped, defending the fish. “How dare you assume his species!”

Tails sweatdropped.

“Well, I just hope you know how much you mean to us, Sonic. So you don’t feel envious or jealous again.” Amy faced back to Sonic, who was a bit jittery at those words.

“W-what!?” Nerves took over and he spoke quickly once more. “Who said anything about turning green! I’m not green!”

“MY BOWLS!!”

“Told ya.” Tails side-swiped his eyes back to Knuckles.

“Oh, so now you’re picking on the memory-challenged, huh, Tails? Does that make you feel like a man, Tails!? Well? DOES IT?!”

“Besides, Amy and I were exaggerating.” Sticks flopped her hand in a sign of letting it go, “I would have never lowered my boobytraps! And Amy would have never-“

Amy’s face suddenly grew white with horror, “O-ok-okay, Sticks! That’s enough sharing!” with a red, flustered face, Amy pushed Sticks by her back away from the three. “Whelp, I’m glad we could have this talk and get everything sorted out. You’re still the coolest, Sonic! Ciao!”

He shook his head and lowered his eyes, groaning in a bit of envy again. “Ohh… She used to cut Sticks off randomly like that when it was her secretive things about me that she didn’t want being revealed…” he slouched forward.

“Come on, Sonic… we’ll play ‘How Many Coconuts Can Knuckles’s Head Crack Without Him Passing Out’ again?” Tails tried to turn Sonic away from the departing girls as Knuckles excitedly waved his hand around, jumping on each foot interchangeably.

“Oh, oh, oh! Me first! Me first!”

“Hahaha! Always, Big guy.” Tails laughed.

Sonic whined another moan again.

As Amy got Sticks further away, Sticks looked behind her back and forth from each side. “W-what? I was just saying you’d probably make a doll of him is all!”

“Sticks for once would you just. Shut. Up!” She was speaking through gritted teeth, as at her very home… next to her life-size Sonic Doll… was a Swifty Doll… Wearing a Swifty limited edition T-shirt and hat.

However, to her credit, it was dusty and looked untouched.

It sloped down after the Sonic doll slowly leaned it’s back over it and took it down, flopping on it. But there didn’t seem to be a push of gravity or wind…

“Remind me to recycle that thing later though…”

[romancereadingdiva]

The Prince and The Pawn Prologue Reveal!

The Prince and The Pawn by B.B. Reid is coming April 27, and today I have the prologue to share with you!

Prologue

THE PAWN

The cool breeze from the ocean slammed into my aching chest the moment I burst through the door. The wind carried with it the salt and water from the sea, blending in with my tears.  

How could he?

There were murmurs and whispers and a few laughs as my former classmates looked on, and I could only guess what they were all thinking.

Did she actually believe him when he said he loved her?

Yes. I had.

I foolishly believed every word that passed through his lips from the moment he first pressed them against mine. How could someone who kissed so beautifully tell such ugly lies? I looked to the sky as if it had the answers. All I found was the full moon and its callous glow shining down on me like a spotlight. Here she is, it seemed to say, the fool who thought Vaughn Rees had a heart and wouldn’t break hers.

“Tyra!”

Hearing my name shouted over the music, I rushed down the wooden stairs. I never realized before now how many there were. The stilts the blue beach house sat on were fourteen feet high to protect from flooding. Somehow, despite my blurry vision, I managed not to fall. A broken neck was all I needed to match my broken heart. The moment my sandaled feet touched the sand, I looked around in desperation. The parking lot would be the first place my friends would check.

Not ready to face my devastation, I slipped into the shadows underneath the house. I couldn’t outrun them, so I’d hide until they gave up—if they gave up. I held my breath while my tears flowed freely. A moment later, the obscure figures of my friends darted past.

They’d witnessed everything.

Vaughn’s betrayal.

My humiliation.

And the smug look on the bitch’s face who’d stolen everything from me.

My cheeks heated in shame as I recalled how I’d turned and ran in defeat. I should have stayed and killed them both. Hindsight really was twenty-twenty.

Swallowing the sob that threatened to spill, I leaned into one of the stilts, wrapping my arms around the beam. With my forehead resting against the cold, damp wood, I closed my eyes. It was the only thing keeping my knees from buckling.

Vaughn had warned me. A year ago and almost every day since, he told me that we could never be, but my arrogance hadn’t allowed me to believe him. That and the way his eyes defied the words his lips had spouted.

I’d chosen to listen to the teachings that a person’s actions spoke louder than words. So, naïvely, I clung to hope. And tonight, Vaughn had shown me the truth.

Seeing him with her, touching her, giving her what only should have belonged to me was more proof than anyone could deny. And the look in his eyes when he finally noticed me witnessing it all…I hugged the sturdy wood tighter when I felt pieces of my heart tumble into the rage building in my gut. As much as it burned, it was still just an ember. Only time would tell when the fire would finally roar. My stomach was twisted in a knot so tight I feared that any moment now, I’d break in half. It was inevitable, wasn’t it?

I was in the midst of inhaling the salted air when behind me, I heard the soft crunch of sand. I froze, humiliated once again that he’d caught me like this—pathetically weeping and irreparably shattered. I didn’t have to turn to know it was him. I hadn’t made a sound. The darkness underneath the house cloaked me entirely. Yet it still didn’t matter.

From the moment our gazes first connected, Vaughn and I became a siren’s song. We’d always be drawn.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.”

With my eyes still closed, I pictured him with his hands tucked inside his jeans, his cold gaze assessing and calculating. Like everyone else, I’d mistaken that look for boredom, but Vaughn was never as disinterested as he was careful. Months of allowing me to hold him close, and I had yet to find out why. I realized then that as much as Vaughn had let me in, I’d only ever had one foot in the door.

“But you’re not—” I squeezed my closed eyes tighter, hating the way my voice broke and how it barely carried over the sound of the waves crashing in the ocean or the music playing from the beach house above us. I still couldn’t find the courage to turn around. “You’re not sorry you did it?”

“No.”

“And when you said you loved me…are you sorry for that, too?”

It took a long time for him to answer, long enough for hope to creep its way back in and long enough for Vaughn to crush it with a single word. “Yes.”

“Why should I believe you?” I asked, anyway. It was weird, wasn’t it? Weird that I could argue his point after catching him with his pants down and his dick inside—I dug my fingers into the wood, ignoring the pain. It was more than weird. It was pathetic.

Vaughn sighed, and my guess was because I wouldn’t take the hint he was waving around on a sign the size of a billboard with flashing lights so bright they blinded. Maybe I was still too head over heels to see it. He might not have meant it when he said he loved me, but I had. Love didn’t just fade the moment the other pushed the big red “abort” button. Instead, you’re left standing alone in the place that had once been your Eden and was now your own personal hell.

“I’m bored, Tyra. I don’t know how else to put it.”

“So, you put it inside of that bitch instead?” My voice had become granite, and if I weren’t clinging to this fucking beam as if it was a life raft, I would have patted myself on the back. I felt him closing in—felt his warmth, the strength of his muscles, and even the rhythm of his heart as if he’d taken me in his arms and made it all better.

If only he would.

My fists balled against the wood.

“Look at me,” he demanded as if he had the right.

I shook my head, denying him. I was afraid that if I did, I’d see that his heart was no longer mine. A moment later, I felt his hands on my shoulders, gently turning me to face him.

“I made a mistake,” he said once he’d captured my gaze.

I knew he wasn’t talking about tonight. Just as my heart, on its last desperate stitch, begin to splinter, I felt the telling tap of his finger on my shoulder. It was subtle, like a phantom touch, only it was very much real. Immediately, I started to melt into the comfort of his strong arms. The demand to know why he was doing this was poised on my lips when I felt the bite of his fingers keeping me at bay.

His rejection rippled through me, and I no longer cared about his reasons. I closed my eyes, hating him, and wondering how many times I’d have to disgrace myself. How many before I accepted that this was real?

Vaughn and I were over.

But then…how could something that never truly started end?

While Vaughn had been sure to remind me that we weren’t exclusive, he’d often forgotten that fact himself. Once he’d sunk his teeth into me, it became a full-time job scaring off the guys at our school, and when he wasn’t savagely defending his territory, he was attending to my every need. There’d been no time or desire for anyone else.

Until now.

Pushing him away, I forced my spine to straighten. “It took you a year to figure that out?”

Callously, he shrugged, and I realized the glow that usually shone from his green eyes was gone. The wind ruffled his light-brown hair, and the ache to run my fingers through it as I had so many times before was almost greater than the one in my chest.

“I was looking for something different, and until now, you provided that.”

“You mean up until I let you—” I choked on the words caught in my throat. God, why had I given him so much? I’d waited a year, and still, it wasn’t enough. Swallowing past the lump, I tried again. “Until I let you fuck me.”

His eyes quickly narrowed. “Let’s not forget,” he said slowly and with a touch of cruelty, “you begged me not to stop.”

“I thought maybe—” I stopped, wondering if it was wise to admit just how stupid I’d been. Vaughn’s eyebrow perked, daring me to continue. “I thought maybe you’d change your mind.” Summer’s end had been rapidly approaching, and I’d never been more desperate. I believed in the idea of soulmates, and from the moment Vaughn first kissed me, I knew he was mine. That kiss was the reason I stopped fighting his pursuit at the start of my senior year.

Vaughn obviously didn’t feel the same, judging by the way his body stiffened, and his nostrils flared at my confession. “You mean you thought you could manipulate my feelings with sex?” If possible, his tone became even colder than before. “While you were a phenomenal fuck, Bradley, no pussy is that good.”

I looked away, unable to meet his gaze, my tone despondent when I spoke. “I guess it doesn’t matter now.”

“Finally, something we can agree on,” he immediately spat. “No, it doesn’t matter now.”

I never realized before how much power Vaughn had over me. For a moment, we listened to the waves crash. For a moment, I wanted to walk into the night sea and let them drown me.

“Just tell me one thing,” I urged as a lone tear slipped down my cheek. I vowed that it would be the last I shed over him. Vaughn said nothing while he waited. “Of all the girls you could have screwed, why did it have to be her?”

Add to your Goodreads TBR: http://bit.ly/GR-PrincePawn

The Evermore novella is FREE! And it’s this week only so grab it now and experience prom from Four and Ever’s POV. 

Blurb:

Grab your dancing shoes and put on your prettiest dress. It's prom season in Blackwood Keep and forever can't wait any longer! Four Archer was the toughest girl around. Just ask anyone. She's the street racing daredevil who brought the King of Brynwood Academy to his knees. But watching her boyfriend fawn over his childhood playmate--even though it was just an act--would be her toughest challenge yet. When jealousy rears its ugly head, Four questions if she can handle playing the sideline. Ever McNamara has the world at his fingertips, but not even a private jet and a seven-figure trust fund can get him out of this rock and a hard place. When a childhood pact puts their fairytale in peril, Ever must risk it all to keep her. It is strongly advised that you read The Peer and the Puppet and The Moth and the Flame before diving in. However, this 15K bonus novella is not a required reading to continue the When Rivals Play series. Content suitable for 18+.

Amazon Worldwide: https://geni.us/evermore 

[drivelings]

69.

It was no secret that Hanzo’s first appearance at Overwatch left many people on edge. What he had done to his brother was a well-known topic among those who were around when Genji was first admitted into the organization.

At Genji’s insistence (sometimes in private, and sometimes more forcibly in public), everyone attempted to be friendly with Hanzo, who slowly proved himself a worthy and valued member.

However, he never quite obtained that with you.

“The fuck are you doing here?” were your first words to him. Genji, in turn, intervened how he could, but that did not stop you both from disliking each other at first sight. You, knowing his past, immediately lashed out at him, and he, being attacked, put up his walls and lashed right back, ready to turn around and go back to Hanamura. 

Genji attempted to straighten you both out. But that didn’t stop you from sneering at him whenever you saw him. A stubbornness that emanated from both sides--prides building walls too high to even extend the first olive branch.

There was something raw about Hanzo. Being near him felt like a direct touch to a nerve ending or a broken bone—naked, raw, jaw-clenchingly painful. His self-depreciating words always struck a chord inside that made you want to throttle him. You’ve seen him and what he could do—his prowess and analytical skills were well proven when he first arrived.

But that didn’t mean it excused his piss-poor behavior toward himself, chasing after the ghost of what he believed to be redemption. (It was a delusion.)

You kept as much distance between you both as possible.

 “You should get along better with Hanzo.” Hana did not occupy herself with any games when she told you this. “You might actually find that you guys work well together.” 

You instinctively curled your lip at the name. “Hana, don’t be unreasonable. The day I work well with him is the day Hell freezes over.” 

She gave you a look like you’re the unreasonable one.

Granted, you were.

Back in the days of Overwatch, it didn’t matter who you liked or disliked, if you were put on a mission with them, you were all comrade in arms—teamwork was paramount to victory. To survival. But a specially put request from a supervisor could easily keep uncooperative parties separated. It wasn’t so uncommon—it just gave those who planned the missions a bit more of a headache.

But this wasn’t the old Overwatch.

“

  You could hardly contain your revulsion at the suggestion. 

 It was polite. 

Ana Amari was one of the later members rejoin Overwatch. You were on a solo mission at the time--it took nearly two months before you were able to return. By that time, Ana was well-acquainted with everyone. Hanzo, especially, who she took in as a sort of surrogate son. (Soldier: 76 believed that she enjoyed flustering him.) 

 Greyed and weathered, she still had that air of authority around her. Her piercing gaze, though only coming from one eye, was not weakened in any way. The surprise on her face melted into one of familiarity, and you choked on her name.

You nearly shrieked, the warmth of tears springing to your eyes.

“Oh, Ana!”

You hugged her tight, nearly choking her. She chuckled in your ear, wrapping her arms around you much more gingerly. Into her hair, you whispered her name over and over and thanking a deity that may or may not be listening. 

 You glared. “Oh. It’s you.” The words ‘dirty brother killer’ nearly escaped your mouth. 

He raised his chin in challenge, the thick column of his throat flexed, daring you to sink your sharp comments through his skin.

  Ana gasped, covering her mouth with a hand. 

She waved off everyone’s concerned looks, but she could see her daughter from the corner of her eye, wary and suspicious.

Fareeha was still weak in the eyes, took more after her father than she did her mother in many ways not easily visible to most people. Ana sometimes lamented it, but secretly was glad that Fareeha did not inherit the gift to see the strings that proved fate was a fickle thing and often cruel beyond reason.

She waved off both yours and Hanzo’s concerns. 

With the two of you as you are now, neither of you would be interested in hearing the truth. 

The mission consisted of yourself, Soldier: 76, Pharah, Zenyatta, and Hanzo. It was intended to be a quick scouting mission, search for any usable pieces of data. 

Ana pressed one of her grenades in your hand. “For protection,” she said, tapping her tattoo meaningfully. You turned it over in your hands, and smiled.

“Thanks.”

“We’re overpowered. Retreat. Now!” 

You nearly fell down a ditch; the announcement caught you off guard. You glanced back. You weren’t very far from the ship itself. It was still within your sights and well out of the way from the point.

As much as you worried for your teammates, they were elite soldiers. They would find their way with or without you. But if they didn’t have a ship, you were all screwed seven ways to Sunday anyway. 

“Zenyatta--” 

“I am with you.” 

Nodding at each other, you both raced back until you were at the ramp of the ship. Your guns were at the ready in case any wayward enemies decided to stroll by. Zenyatta floated beside you, the orbs gathered and ready for friend or foe. 

Friend, hopefully.

"I've secured our ship, get yourselves back here," you reported over the comm. The distance revealed no immediate enemies, but the minutes crawled by like a dying man with no legs. 

The first to arrive was Fareeha. You couldn’t help but mouth an ‘Oh shit’ when you saw her coming in on foot, the wings of her Raptora suit sparking and missing critical components. 

“Anti-air weapons?” 

It had only been less than a day. How the hell did you all suffer such casualties? Were they expecting you guys? That didn’t explain why they were prepared with such heavy-duty weaponry. Maybe they were prepared for their own civil war and you guys just happened to walk in at the wrong time. Great, maybe this’ll trigger the next Omnic Crisis. 

You fired three rounds, catching the omnic who chased him in the face plate. It dropped to the ground with a fizzle. Soldier: 76, once he got into the safety of your range, dropped to one knee, gasping harshly. You help his shoulder with a hand, still eyeing the horizon for more pursuers.  

“Where’s Hanzo?”

Your heart stuttered, a splash of dread quickly draining the warmth from you.

"He wasn't with you?" 

You and Soldier stared at each other for a stretch of time, the realization that one of your teammates was still out there swung over your heads like a death sentence. Simultaneously, you both cursed beneath your breath. So much for the buddy system.

You’re the only mobile one. As much as you disliked the man, he was your teammate. Fareeha was out cold, and Soldier: 76 looked like he's seen better days, barely able to get up off his knees. Zenyatta was tending to them, and 

“Hold on. I’ll get him.” 

Soldier: 76 didn’t even have time to stop you before you were hauling ass, working through exhaustion that was quickly settling on your muscles, threatening to seize and trip you up at a moment’s notice. You really shouldn’t have sat for so long.

The fading sound of his voice--”Get back here!”--compelled you forward.

There’s a tugging at your senses, a dull compass that gave you direction. Common sense told you to check the last place his commincator pinged from, but urgency told you to just shut up and follow your gut.

Hidden between two fallen walls propped up precariously against each other, you saw him.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” you hissed to yourself. 

He was not conscious--not dead, you hoped--bleeding from the temple and several other spots on his body. The puddle of blood around him hinted that if he weren’t dead already, he’s likely pretty damn close.

Two shots took down one of them. It took another three to bring the second omnic down. The rubble served as good cover as you snuck your way to him, avoiding the detection of three passing by.

He was pale. His quiver was empty. The blood looked like it was coming from his temple, two injuries to his side, and his leg. You winced for him--they looked like they hurt. 

You slapped him lightly against the cheek, ignoring the tackiness of the blood that was still flowing from his head.

“Hanzo. Hanzo.” Your voice grew more insistent the longer he remained unconscious. “Wake up, you asshole!” 

“Wha...?”

He took in a sharp breath, returning to the pain that unconsciousness shielded him from.

“How bad is it?” you asked hurriedly.

He glanced around you, brows knitted harder and harder in confusion.

“Why..."--he took a shuddering breath, eyes unfocused--“did you come for me?”

You had half a mind to snap at him. You didn’t come specifically because you were worried for his well-being, you came because it was the right thing to do. However, it was little use getting angry at a man-child who could barely tell the sky from the ground. You’d have to save it for later.

If there was a later.

“Because we can’t leave without you.”

He took a shuddering breath, remorseful. “So I am at fault for endangering you all.”

You whirled around, angry piling in your chest like a stack of molten rocks ready to erupt. What did he just say?

A little more lucid.

“You should not have done so.”

Ungrateful bastard. You should snap his neck and report to everyone he died in battle. But you'd hate to upset Genji or Hana or Ana, all of whom were, for some inexplicable reason (barring Genji), very fond of him.

“Why? So you can try to prove you can punch your way through these guys?” You glanced behind you. “Don’t be stupid, even Soldier: 76 can’t do that.”

“I...am not being--UGH.” His protest was cut short, curling into himself in pain. Your chest ached in sympathy. You knew he was pathetic, but seeing him like this was even more annoying than you would’ve ever expected. 

 He must have hurt his ribs somehow.

You weren’t a medically trained professional by any stretch of the word, but even you knew that unless Hanzo got some sort of treatment, this attempt at valiance would soon turn into a suicide mission.

You dug through you bag--didn’t you have anything? Bandages? Liquid adhesive? Painkillers? Anything?

Your search turned up empty, and you nearly hurled your bag away before a small canister dropped out from a side-pocket. Your eyes widened.

Ana’s biotic grenade.

“Thank you, thank you, you beautiful old lady,” you mumbled hastily. “You better thank Ana for this, you lucky bastard.”

You pulled the pin and smashed it against the ground. Instantly, you were both crowded in warm yellow that stung at any open wounds you had--it itched something fierce, too. Hanzo went into a coughing fit, having breathed in the mist too forcefully. It’d be funny if you weren’t busy trying to figure a way out of here.

At least it would mean that some of his internal injures were being healed.

You gave him a minute or two to catch his bearings, a watchful eye for anyone that may have noticed the yellow cloud of mist and uncontrollable coughing fit. 

“How good are your legs?” 

Silence. 

The sensors on these guys can’t be that bad, could it? Not that you were complaining. 

“You should have left me. Not risk your--your life like this.”

“You self-righteous piece of shit.”

“But you hate me.” 

“I hate you because it’s always about you,” you barked. You turned your face at the ceiling, adopting the best (or worst) mock-imitation of Hanzo you could muster. “Oh, I’m so tragic, I don’t deserve any kindness, get away from me, I’m not worthy--shut the fuck up.

“I could deal with the fact you tried to kill Genji--he’s the one who has to forgive you, not us. But damn it, do you have to also play the tragic victim, too? At least stop trying to be so damn self-sacrificing and depressing. Killing yourself isn’t a path to redemption, making it up to everyone else is. So don’t you go all kamikaze on us because Genji and a ton of people are going to be crazy upset if you just up and died!”

He said nothing in his defense. He must know it’s true.

He smashed his Storm Bow against the omnic at your back. 

That must have been the last of his strength. He fell to the ground like a star, straight into a small crater that held him so preciously. 

You gaped. He saved you. 

The gunshots forced you back to reality. 

He was heavy. 

He looked at you, still bleary eyed and very much out of it. 

“...thank you.” Like that, he was out like a light again. 

A twinge of something uncomfortable and foreign zipped through you like electricity, stemming from your hand straight through your stomach, chest, and heart.

A little less testy, you reply to an unconscious Hanzo, “You’re welcome, you bastard.”

You didn’t comment on the joy that Genji exhibited. 

"You’d better say something before you do something stupid, oppa.”

Hanzo had a smart remark on his tongue for the young woman, but the look she fixed him with forced him to hold his tongue. He looked into her eyes, saw nothing but a weariness that seemed more meaningful than the usual insomnia she held.

“You should go.” 

He does not miss the way she slowed down her words, firm, and weighty. She knew something he didn’t, and he couldn’t say that he enjoyed being left in the dark. But because he told himself he could trust this young woman with his life and would treat her no different than his equal, he obeyed. A brief glance over his shoulder forced him to meet eyes with her once again. She was staring with that same look that he cannot name. He pressed forward so he didn’t have to see it--he didn’t know what she wanted him to know, but trusted her enough to try to find out.

Hana sighed, slow and heavy, the weight of a secret crushing her chest. She looked down to her hand, the red string on the pinky it slack unlike Hanzo’s.

“These things take time.” Hana did not jump, but it was a close thing. Ana leaned over the couch, arms crossed across the back on it, looking at the doorway that Hanzo left from. “Even though it’s obvious.”

Hana laughed to herself. Of course Ana would be able to see it, too. Nothing ever seemed to get past the woman’s sharp gaze.

“I just hope they figure it out.”

“You’re soulmates, fools!” 

Behind the deafening silence, two simultaneous slaps rang out. Both Hana and Ana had a hand to their faces, shaking their heads. 

[bienmoreau]

jerejean + “How long has it been since you’ve slept?”

It wasn’t often that anyone saw this side of Jeremy Knox, let aloneJean.

But here they were,Jean hovering in the doorway, Jeremy hunched at the little kitchen table,gripping the stone-cold mug that held his morning coffee. The evening gloommaking what was normally so vibrant and welcoming look washed out and cold.Jeremy hadn’t bothered turning on the lights or, more likely Jean thought,hadn’t needed to when he sat down and hadn’t noticed it getting dark around himas the day dragged on. Jean let out a heavy sigh after a while concluding that Jeremy wasn’t going tonotice him on his own. Clearing his throat he pulled out the chair opposite.“Jeremy?”
The smaller boy jerked to attention at the sound of his name and raised hishead to meet Jean’s eyes, a pained frown forming between his own. “oh, hey Jean- I uh, didn’t hear you come in.” his expression pulled evengrimmer as he clenched his jaw, dropping his gaze and focusing on his coffee. Jean kept his gaze steady, it was obvious that Jeremy wasn’t okay but Jean hadlittle practice caring for others and no experience of dealing with someone hewould tentatively call his friend looking so small and uncertain in front of him.It simply wasn’t what he had become accustomed to since joining the Trojansranks nearly half a year ago. With a steadying breath, Jeremy looked up again, “about last night-” 

It hadn’t been good. Jeremy knew he’d messed up as soon as Sara grabbed his arm, worming her waythrough the mass of bodied in the basement. Her grim and slightly worriedexpression confirmed it for him before she even got the chance to shout overthe noise of the music and drunk students. “LAILA’S TAKEN JEAN HOME. JEREMY, HE DIDN’T LOOK GOOD.”Everything slowed around him as Sara’s words sunk in. Jean. Shitof course! 
There had been an unprecedented amount of people at the party that night. Morethan there was ever meant to be in the basement of the dorm tower. TheStickball Swing, as the volleyball girls had dubbed their little mid-seasonparty for the exy team, had always been an invite only for the two teams andthe players plus-ones, the perfect casual step up from the few non-compulsoryteam socials Jeremy had been able to get Jean to attend up to now. But thisyear someone had leaked the date and time. Before they knew it, the basement waspacked, the press of bodies pushing Jeremy further away from where he had beenstanding with Jean, Laila and Sara. Of course it had been too much for Jean, he had already looked uncomfortablemaking his way down the stairs underground. STUPIDSTUPID STUPID! Jeremy berated himself as he shoved his way back out to the entrance.How could he have been such an idiot! They had been making such good progressand he was doing well at keeping on top of the things Jean wouldn’t be able todeal with. He had been. 
But it had been a hard season so farand as much of an asset Jean was to them the team dynamic was still a littleprecarious. He had been so caught up in working out the best course for hispost grad plans and finalising his midterm project focus- He’d just wanted a night off. But at what cost?Guilt ridden and suddenly bone heavy with exhaustion, Jeremy headed straightfor his and Jean’s dorm but there was no sign of either Jean or Laila. Itwouldn’t have been obvious to a casual observer, Jeremy had trained himself tokeep his public face back in high school, but a level of base panic wassettling in his gut. The next stop at Laila and Alvarez’s own dorm also had noresult. In the quiet of the empty corridor Jeremy let himself a brief moment of frustration,at the idiot who leaked the party plans, at he season being harder than he’dexpected, at the challenge Jean presented the team not unexpected or the mansfault but still hard to manage on top of everything else that came with beingin his final year. But mostly at himself; for dropping the ball, for puttingJean in such a situation in the first place, for not thinking it through orseeing it coming, for letting his own want for a night off from it all undothe progress Jean had been making. Thumping his hand against the wall, hard, hecursed and turned on his heel trying to think where else to check for hisfriends. He was supposed to be better than this. What was the point of the years he’dput into making himself into the person he was today if he didn’t come thoughwhen it mattered. When it was his friends he hurt or let down. When it wasJean. 

His search seemedendless and endlessly fruitless. He’d gone through all the places he could thinkof, going so far as to run all over campus checking the court, library and evengoing all the way over to the studios to see if there was a chance they wereopen and Laila and Jean where inside. Nothing. His phone had died at some point and it was only knowing how much it would makeeverything worse in the long run that stopped him from lobbing it as far as hecould from the bank at the edge of the beach. That was the last place he looked, slumping down onto his haunches and lettingout a heavy sigh he tipped forward to lean on the railing and watched in numbindifference as the sun rose over the sea.

He trudged back tohis doom in grim silence, kicking at rocks and tufts of coarse grass on theside of the road and kicking himself for the whole situation. Guilt andexhaustion warring for witch could win out as the first of his tangled emotionsto make him cry. He fumbled his keys before finally getting the door open and stumbling into thechill morning light of the empty dorm. Scrubbing his hands over his face hedropped his keys and long dead phone onto the shelf by the door and made hisway into the kitchen to make a coffee, determined to wait for Jean to comehome, for him to be able to apologise and see for himself that Jean was okay.

—————————

Jean didn’t knowwhat to do with Jeremy like this, he looked small, smaller than Jean had everthough he could. Small and cold and… scared? Jean didn’t understand but he knew he didn’t like it. 

—————–

The party had beena disaster sure, but it wasn’t Jeremy’s fault. Laila had got them both out ofthere quick enough for it not to be too bad. But he had still been badly shakenand couldn’t breathe properly for a while, darkness edging into his vision asLaila pushed people out of their way as fast as she could to get him out intothe cool night air. Once they were there and she had him looking up at theclear winter sky he’d got it back under control. They walked around for a while, Laila making small conversation and justletting Jean know that she was there and he was okay. They stopped to buy teafrom a vending machine and watched the sunrise reflecting off the huge studiowindows behind the art block. Then made their way home and found Sara waitingfor them with the news that Jeremy wasn’t in his and Jeans room or answeringhis phone and that it was decided that Jean would sleep on their sofa so hedidn’t have to go back to the empty dorm. 

That was hours ago.Jean had surprised himself with how long he slept. Clearly this whole transferhas been taking it out of him more than he was letting on even to himself. Sarawent out and got them all a late lunch once he was up. It was already starting to get dark by the time their conversation lulledenough for Jean to excuse himself. 

———

“How long has itbeen since you’ve slept?”  Jeans voice came out quieter than he’d expected, softer. Jeremy looked grey inmood and complexion as he met Jeans eyes. He swallowed thickly and reached upto touch his cheek as if only just realising what he must look like. 

“oh, umm.. I haven’t” he blinked a few times and managed to focus hisgaze on his coffee again before frowning at its tepidity and pushing unsteadilyto his feet, wobbling and having to drop his free hand to the table top almostimmediately but Jean was already on his feet and leaning across the spacebetween them holding out a steadying hand.

“Jere-” he started, a new tinge of worry in his tone but Jeremy steppedaway shaking his head

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry Jean I didn’t mean for that to happen. It shouldhave been okay, it though it would be okay but I- I just wanted a night off. I’msorry I should have known better, it was selfish of me and I put you in a situationI never should have, I should be better, as your captain I should have takenmore care.” His voice dropped to a cracked whisper and he buried one side ofhis face in his hand as he rubbed at his eye “I should have done better- asyour friend -and I’m sorry”

Jean expression froze as he tried to work out what to do with thesituation in front of him but only for a moment before he rounded the table andcarefully took the mug out of Jeremy shaking hand and put it down. Reaching outagain he tentatively turned the shorter man to face him ducking slightly tomeet his eyes. There was a soft clarity to his voice that Jean had never heardfrom himself before when he spoke again. “Jeremy, I’m okay. It wasn’t good and I don’t know how bad it could have beenif Laila hadn’t got me out of there, but she did, so I’m okay. And it wasn’t yourfault. Jeremy, I don’t blame you for this. You need to sleep. You’ve been awakefor nearly 30 hours. And this wasn’t your fault so I don’t blame you. It’sokay. I’m okay.”

It struck him as he watched Jeremy come back to himself a little and nodslowly at what Jean had said, that it felt like the truth to him, in thatmoment it felt like it really was okay.He knew this wasn’t it, that the shadows and demons and nightmares that plaguedhim and the anger and fear that gripped his lungs and poisoned his blood onsome days weren’t gone, hell, they’d nearly gotten the better of him again onlyhours earlier. But here in this little kitchen that slowly seemed to get brighteras Jeremy’s grey shroud of guilt and regret lifted. In front of Jeremy who hadseemed like a figure of such unbearable light in those early days, such a foreignthing from Jean’s understanding of the world, but now that he looked again he sawthe sunrise that he and Laila had watched, and felt the same feeling of calm ithad brought him after the crowded basement. As Jeremy let out a sigh so heavy with relief that it was tangible and finally,finally, smiled Jean realised that in that moment he really was okay.