#so my doctors so far have said there is no observable reason for foot drop in my left foot

[greenvertumna]

I have foot drop from the whole “getting hit by a car” situation and my doctors are hopeful about it healing almost if not entirely completely but I can’t stop having paranoid thoughts about my feet just not working ever again.

[cacoetheswriting]

library hours

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!Reader Warnings: maybe a swear word or two, really just FLUFF ft. baby spence Word Count: 1.3k Summary: A late night at a university library leads to reader meeting a tall brunette genius. [fyi i wrote a reimagined version with professor reid x reader. you can read it here]

A/N: dedicated to the amazing @ellesgreenaway​ for inspiring this little fic & giving it a title!!  ❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️

-

There was something you always enjoyed about the going to the library.

Perhaps it was the way every single person that walked through the threshold had a purpose. A mission to complete. Perhaps it was the quiet. The solace you felt sitting alone in a corner researching various topics, for class and for recreational purposes.

The university library had quickly become your second home. A location you frequented more than your own dorm room. It wasn’t always to study, no. You people watched. Doodled. Even napped there from time to time. The place brought you peace, and by the time you senior year rolled around, you saw the librarians more than your college friends.

The university library was also the place where you first met a certain young brunette genius - which in time became the main reason why you liked it so much.

Lights were slowly being turned off section by section. A vacuum came to life in one of the aisles. People started to scramble from their seats - shoving their things into their backpacks, throwing out empty coffee cups into the overflowing bins, checking out books they might still use that evening.

All signs indicating it was time to go.

Dolly, one of the librarians, ushered towards you. Her jacket draped over her shoulders, her bag in hand. She gave you the usual spiel of how you can stay until the janitor is finished cleaning, to which you politely nodded along. She wished you a pleasant night, and with a “see you tomorrow” she hurried out the door.

Once she was out of sight, you groaned under your breath and ran your fingers through your hair. You had an assignment due tomorrow, one you started hours ago and only managed to formulate three total sentences. Your gut was telling you there was no way you were going to finish now, especially since you had about thirty minutes until you would have to leave.

Leaning back in your chair, you fluttered your eyes closed in an attempt to collect your thoughts. The tranquil feeling didn't last long as you were abruptly brought back to reality by a loud bang. You quickly sat back up and scanned the space for the source of the noise.

A tall brunette man, not much older than you, stood a few tables away, a heavy looking book at his feet and a shameful look spread across his features.

“The library is closed for the night.” You stated. The brunette scrunched his nose briefly. “B-but you’re here.” He remarked before leaning down to pick up the book he dropped.

“I have permission to be here.”

“What if I do too?” He challenged, taking a step towards you although still keeping a safe distance.

You folded your arms across your chest and arched a brow. “Well, do you?”

The brunette didn't respond. Instead, you noticed how his cheeks flushed a shade of red, how he clutched the book to his chest, and how his fingers tightened around the strap of his bag.

You couldn't help but smirk as you let your arms fall back down to your side.

“I’m just kidding. Come on, join me.” You said, pointing to to the chair across the table from you. “We have about twenty-five minutes before we get kicked out, might as well make the most of it.”

He hesitated for a split second, hovering in his spot. It wasn't until you turned your attention completely away from him, and back to the book in front of you, that he made his move.

“You’re not some sort of killer, are you? You’re not here to murder me?” You asked, looking up as he sat down. His eyes widened and he quickly shook his head in response. “Ehm... N-no.”

“That wasn't a very reassuring no, but I guess I’ll take it.” You nudged in response, and proceeded to work away on your assignment. As you worked, you could feel his eyes burning into you.

In any other situation, with any other stranger, the feeling would have made you uncomfortable. But there was something about the timid stranger that was quite welcoming.

“I-I actually, uhm, I profile serial killers. I help catch them.” He said after a moment of silence. Once again, you glanced up from your notes to look at him. Intrigue greeting your facial features. “I just started with the FBI.” He stated.

It wasn't a brag. No. It was a statement to make you feel more safe, and you couldn't help but smile at him. “So, mister FBI, what are you doing in a university library on a Thursday night?”

“Doctor.” He corrected.

“What?”

“Doctor FBI.” He said, corners of his lips twitching upwards. “I have PhDs in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering.” Now, that was a brag.

You chuckled softly. “You don't happen to have a PhD in History under your belt, do you? Because that would be very helpful right about now.”

“No, but I do have an eidetic memory and can read twenty-thousand words per minute.” He declared. You stared at him in disbelief, your mouth parting ever so slightly in shock.

“Did they make you in a lab or something?” You teased, although you could tell he didn't find it amusing. He furrowed his brows, lips pursed into thin line. You chewed down on your bottom lip, feeling slightly ashamed for poking fun at the guy who was nothing but be nice to you. “I’m sorry.” You mumbled faintly. “That was rude.”

“It’s okay.” He quickly reassured, and shot you a timid smile. The two of you stared silently at one another. There was something amicable about the seconds that passed as you looked into his hazel eyes. Something harmonious. Friendly. Strong.

You cleared your throat. “There uhm, there’s this dinner not far from here. It’s twenty-four hours so they won't kick us out. Would you like to come with me? We can share a pie. I mean, if you’re into that. Or, or we can just have coffee-”

“Y-yes, I would love to.” The young doctor answered all too quickly causing you to grin at him.

Soon enough you were both packed up and up on your feet, heading towards the library exit.

There wasn’t a cloud in the sky making the million stars shine all that brighter. They looked like perfect sugar granules spilled on a dark surface, accompanied by the glowing moonlight. Breathtaking.

Street lamps glittered ahead, illuminating the streets. The two of you walked side by side, almost in sync.

“Does that big brain of yours possess information on Roman gods?” You asked while nonchalantly hopping up on the curb. You spread out your arms like a tightrope walker, and with one foot carefully placed in front of the other you continued your journey.

The wind blew lightly through your hair, your brunette companion observing quietly. A smile creeping up on his lips. “Because if you do, I might ask for your help with an assignment.” You glanced at him briefly.

“I-I do actually, ehm. The... The Ancient Romans were extremely religious, and believed their success was due to their strong beliefs. They believed that if you maintained a good relationship with the gods, they would be kind to you.” He briskly cleared his throat. “There were twelve Olympian Gods in total. Jupiter, Juno, Mars, Mercury, Neptune, Venus, Apollo, Diana, Minerva, Ceres, Vulcan, and Vesta...”

You let out a soft kindhearted laugh. “Okay doctor FBI, slow down. Wait until we get to the diner so I can really appreciate your genius.”

He blushed, feeling thankful that the darkness around prevented you from seeing. “It’s Spencer. My name, uhm, my name is Spencer.”

You stopped in your tracks and elegantly hopped off the curb. Spencer turned in his spot so that he was now facing you completely, only an arms reach away.

“Spencer...” You tested the name on your tongue, a smile embellishing your features. “It suits you.” You retorted before proceeding to introduce yourself, “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Spencer.”

-

masterlist

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no​, @calm-and-doctor​, @idroppedmygourd​​, @averyhotchner, @wowitsel, @elldell1204, @hey-there-angels, @reidabookforonce, @ellesgreenaway

[we-have-bangtan]

Again.

Pairing: Doctor! Yoongi x Patient! Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Crack (??), Ex's, smut

Warning: Swearing, smut (just an old memory)

Synopsis: When Yn is forced to go to the hospital after falling down the stairs of her office. The doctor who was to attend to her was none other than her ex-boyfriend Min Yoongi.

A/n: let me know if you like it! And give me a reblog to support me!!!

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Yn turned over onto her back, her eyes still closed. She wondered silently why her normally soft bed was hard today. With another roll, she landed with a thud on the cold, hard floor, jolting her awake.

When the blinding lights of the room filled her vision, she suddenly regretted opening her eyes. She sat on the floor, rubbing her eyes to clear the sleep from them, oblivious to the drool on her chin. Her eyes opened in confusion when she saw the IV line on her wrist, her gaze following the line, attached to a bottle mounted onto an IV stand.

She sprang to her feet immediately, taking in her surroundings: the IV stand, the white bed, white walls, the hand sanitizer mounted on the wall, the white floor tiles, and the white blinds that kept the sunshine out.

A hospital? She guessed as she took in all the equipment, the machines that beeped every few seconds were a dead giveaway. Is this a private room? She asked herself, trying to find any clue which hospital this was when the door swung open.

Min Yoongi entered the room, wearing a white lab coat and a stethoscope around his neck. He walked over to her side and encouraged her to take a seat on the bed.

"Where am I?" Despite the fact that she already knew the answer, she inquired. "Take a wild guess," Yoongi replied dryly as he flipped through the papers on his clipboard. Yn racked her brain for the name of the hospital; she was certain she knew which one Yoongi had been working at, but her mind was blank, displaying only a buffering page similar to that of a 2004 Dell laptop.

"Did you really hit your head that hard?"  Yoongi said what he was thinking, a little concerned for her safety. "Do you have a headache? Can you recall what you ate for breakfast or what happened just before you passed out? "He questioned.

"My head hurts a bit, so for breakfast, I had cinnamon crunch with milk, and lunch I had a sandwich. Walking down the stairs is the last thing I recall," She responded. All of her responses matched what her coworkers had told them, leading Yoongi to believe that Yn simply didn't know where he worked and that her head was okay.

He was irritated that Yn had no idea where he worked, but he forced his resentment to the back of his mind before informing her that she was in a private room at Asan Medical Centre in Seoul. "Wait, are you serious?" She yelled as she struggled to get out of bed.

"Yes, seriously," he explained, forcing her back onto the bed "You fell down the stairs in your office and one of your colleagues brought you in; you were unconscious for 5 hours; you will need to stay the night so we can run some tests on you; you will need to stay the night so we can run some tests on you," he added. "Why on earth do you have no idea I work at Asan?"He demanded once he was done briefing her.

"I would have noticed if you hadn't blocked me on all your social media pages," Yn said after some thought. She hisses, reminding him why she was blocked in the first place. "I wouldn't have had to block you if you hadn't started tagging me in those dumb Facebook memes," he retorted as he paging one of the nurses to come to change the IV bag.

"Is there something bothering you? Aside from your head," Yoongi inquired, reaching for his fancy click pen, which Yn had given him in college. "You still use that?" She inquired, her gaze falling on the royal blue color of the pen, the brand name has faded over time. He calmly replied, "I started using it once I got my residence, now answer the question."

To search for any injury, Yn moved her limbs around, starting with her feet. She turned them around to look for any discomfort before moving on to her legs, which were still perfect.  She eventually tested her shoulders and despite her best efforts, winced in pain as she raised her left shoulder.

"Left shoulder, okay. Do you feel nauseous?"  Yn shook her head as Yoongi asked more.

"Any ringing in your ears?"

"Nope"

"Is that gray hair on your head?" Yn interjected, pointing to a few strands at the start of Yoongi's hairline. He dismissed her and instead scribbled a note on his clipboard.

"OK, so you don't have any concussion symptoms, your hearing is good, and you're not feeling dizzy and your eyesight is better than ever before considering the fact that you could pick out my gray hair from that far. We still have some blood work to do and I'm putting you on observation tonight in case any symptom pops up, you're free to go home after that," Yoongi informed.

He reasoned that saying anything else would be unprofessional of him. Heading for the door when, "Yah, why am I in a private room in the first place?" Yn intervened, preventing him from leaving. Yoongi replied, turning around to face her, "I figured it would be more convenient for you."

"Bruh, do you have any idea how broke I am," she grumbled, crossing her arms over her stomach. "I ain't a hotshot doctor to be able to afford a private room in Asan Medical Centre," she sneered. "Who said something about you paying?" asked Yoongi. As he returned to her side. "So, who is going to foot the bill?  You? " She inquired, he nodded, causing her jaw to drop. She was perplexed by his words and asked, "Why would you do that?" "What good is it to be a hotshot doctor?" He shrugged.

The mental picture of a very sleepy and confused Yn, with her hair all tangled up and a tiny spot of drool on her face had made him soft, and there was no stopping his heart from falling head over heels for her all over again as he walked out of the room, the smile he had been battling slowly crept into place...

.

.

.

Yoongi peeked into Yn's room after his shift, his shoulders slouching from the stress of his job. He had his coat and stethoscope wrapped over his arm, his hair slightly damp from the shower he had taken, his white t-shirt clinging to his body.

When they were dating, one of Yn's 'rules' was that if he wanted to get close to her, he had to shower after returning from the hospital because she hated the scent of antiseptic. With the scent of antiseptic all over her, he wondered how she was doing.

He discovered her in bed, knees drawn up to her stomach, phone in hand, the screen almost brushing her nose as she mindlessly scrolled through Instagram. Her food, which had been left on the side table, had not been touched.

He warned, walking into the room, "You'll go blind if you keep doing that." Yn's head snapped up at his voice but calmed down when she saw who it was. He drew up a stool next to the bed and checked what Yn had received from the hospital. Soup, kimchi, rice, and pickled radishes were served on the side (Yn hated those). "Is the food not to your liking?" Concerned about her dietary habits, he inquired.

"They don't have any salt or spice," she replied as she stowed her phone. Yoongi grimaced after taking a sip of the soup. There was no salt or pepper and was as bland as raw tofu.

"SEE!!" Yn screamed, delighted that she had been proven right, but Yoongi, not one to concede defeat, put on a display. "How come it's so salty?" His face scrunched up in exaggeration as he groaned. "Stop acting, I can see right through you," Yn said, raising an eyebrow to call him out on his nonsense.

"All right, fine, you're right," Yoongi conceded as Yn yanked the sheets off herself and reached for his shoulders. He thought it was strange, but didn't say anything when she gently rubbed the spot near his collar, the tension in his shoulders dissipating as she applied pressure. He'd always thought Yn had magical hands. It felt like a miracle to have her hands on him again, something he had never expected to feel again.

"Can you tell me what I can do to get you to order me a plate of jjajangmyeon?" Yn asked. Yoongi thought, Darn it, I knew it was a trap, but he was too relaxed to say no. As she worked out the knots in his muscles, he melted under Yn's touch. She was no longer connected to the IV, enabling her to freely move about the room.

"I knew you were only in it for food," he chuckled, moving away from her to grab his phone from his coat, "What else did you think I was in it for?" Yn jested, playing along as she massaged his shoulders.

"Only jjajangmyeon?" He questioned, scrolling through the options, Yn looking at the phone from over his shoulder. "Order some side dishes too," she added, Yoongi let out a groan when Yn put pressure on THE SPOT at the back of his shoulder blade, the sound making Yn blush. "Stop that, people will think we're filing a porno," Yn scolded lightheartedly, continuing her ministering.

"I don't think we need to film any more of those, I have a whole collection already," Yoongi teased. His gummy smile showing up when he felt Yn's hand round his throat, threatening to choke him. "I think it's the other way round," he scoffed. His heart going into dangerous territory.

Yoongi remembered the night he had discovered Yn's choking kink, it had been a very eventful night. He had just come back home from the hospital when he had heard moaning coming from his bedroom, he had walked inside, totally unprepared for the breathtaking view that awaited him.

Watching porn wasn't considered cheating by Yoongi as long as Yn showed him what she was watching so he knew what they were getting into. When he walked in on Yn in his rotating chair, her legs spread out on the armrest, touching herself to a film about choking, he was pleasantly surprised. He went up behind her softly and wrapped his fingers around her throat, not putting much pressure. When Yn groaned for him, he felt himself harden in his pants and murmured, "You like that baby."

"Stop imagining it," Yn snapped, pushing away from Yoongi, "How do you expect me to just stop, those were some great moments of my life," he chuckled when his phone rang. It had something to do with the meal. He went to get the dinner by himself, leaving Yn alone.

When he returned with her dinner, he delivered it to her before saying his goodbyes and preparing to leave. "Enjoy your meal and get some sleep," he added as he gathered his belongings. "Where are you going?" Yn inquired. "Home??" Yoongi answered, taking his phone from the table when Yn stopped him. "Did you have dinner?" she asked, opening up the takeout box to reveal a generous serving of jjajangmyeon.

"Not yet, I was planning on getting some on the way," He answered, waiting for Yn to say anything. "Then you should stay and give me some company, it's not like I can finish all this on my own," She mumbled. "You sure?" Yoongi confirmed, taking his place on the chair as Yn grabbed the chopsticks from the bedside table, letting him have the wooden chopsticks that the restaurant provides.

They both dug into the meal, savoring every mouthful. In the otherwise peaceful hospital, just the sound of them slurping their noodles and the beep of the monitors could be heard. The majority of the patients were fast asleep, and those who were awake were taking special precautions to avoid making any noise.

Yn was the one who broke the stillness by inquiring about Holly. He said, licking his lips to get rid of the sauce, "She's good, I got her a ribbon for her ears the other day." He was intrigued about Yn's cranky cat, Buster, who had scratched Holly once. Yoongi's heart dropped to his stomach as Yn replied, "We had to put him down."

Although he was simply a large, sluggish cat who refused to get his butt off the window pane, Buster had been Yn's pride and joy, her support system. "That must have been difficult," Yoongi paused, unsure of how to express his condolences.

"It had to be done; he was in a lot of agony," Yn shrugged, shaking her head to clear her mind. "How are the boys doing?  I haven't seen them since we broke up" Yoongi's six other friends were the subject of Yn's inquiry. He assured her everyone was ok. "You might see Jungkook tomorrow," he said, explaining that he had taken the day off today. "Does Jungkookie work here?" Yn inquired, quite surprised by the information. "Yes, he's an intern trying to get his residence, surprising isn't it," Yoongi admitted.

Yn burped after she finished her dinner, making Yoongi laugh at how cute she looked. Once Yn had freshened up, Yoongi said, "Ok, now that you've finished eating, I'll go home, and YOU'LL go to sleep." "You always leave," Yn remarked, rolling her eyes. The words weighed heavy on his mind as he tucked her in. On his way out, he turned out the light and gave her one last look before walking away.

Yoongi slouched his shoulders again once he was in his car. The words Yn had just said reverberated in his mind. Since he had broken up with Yn, the words "You always leave" had tormented him. He had been in love with her, yet he was the one who had abandoned her. NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND, HE LEFT HER. It was painful to recall the details of their breakup.

Yn crying into his chest, asking why she wasn't enough. Him holding her as fiercely as he could, not knowing if he'd ever get another chance. His cowardice had broken both of them that night. He'd run away from one of the most precious part of his life, and he still regrets it.

They had broken up because of him. Yoongi always believed Yn deserved someone better than him, she was too good for him. She had yelled at him when he had told her that. Saying that it was her who got to decide who was worth her time and affection, and if h really thought h didn't deserve her then maybe he should make himself deserving, she had said that that was the solution for Yoongi's thoughts, breaking up was not the solution, but he was stubborn as a mule, refusing to see how he was destroying both of them and everything they had.

And now here he was, striving to be less of a wimp than he had been all those years before. He remembered how enraged the boys had been when he told them what he'd done. "Have you gone insane?" All Yoongi could do was nod when Jin Hyung asked. Yes, he'd gone nuts, which was why he'd been insane enough to let her go. He had no problem admitting it.

He cruised around the deserted roads, far too late in the evening for anyone to be out. He considered calling Jin hyung for advice, but he opted against it because he assumed he was already in bed. For the rest of the night, he was alone with his thoughts, his mind eating away at him, keeping him awake at night, tossing and turning in bed, contemplating what they could have been if he hadn't been a coward.

.

.

.

.

The next morning was the same as any other, the only difference being the speed of Yoongi's car when he was on his way to the office. The usual 60km/h had escalated to 80km/h and he was certainly a little too excited for someone who was going to be at the hospital for the next 18 hours.

He was walking up the corridor to Yn's room after exiting the elevator on the third level when he heard screams. "MOVE, MOVE OUT OF THE WAY PEOPLE!" shouted Yn as Jungkook pushed her wheelchair down the slanted corridor quicker.

What the fuck!!, Yoongi thought as he saw Jungkook climb onto the wheelchair's back supports, watching in horror as the two of them laughed and giggled their way down the corridor at full speed (which wasn't much speed btw), completely disregarding the 'no noise' and 'no running' placards which were stuck to the wall.

He quickly stepped in the way, feeling a little sense of joy watching Jungkook's eyes widen in fright. Bringing the wheelchair to a screeching halt a few inches away from Yoongi. "Good morning, Hyung!!" he said cheerfully as if he hadn't just broken every regulation in the hospital.

"Can you tell me what you're up to?" His gaze fell on Yn, who appeared to be having the time of her life. "Relax, Yoongo-boongo," Yn remarked. Yoongi frowned at the old nickname, which he had pleaded with Yn to abandon.

"This is risky, you know," Yoongi said, "especially since you wounded your shoulder," He added, quick to understand that Jungkook had no idea about Yn's wounded shoulder. "You hurt your shoulder?!?" the younger one screamed. Yn scowled at Yoongi for giving up that knowledge so easily. Yoongi justified himself by saying, "Don't look at me like that, he was going to find out regardless."

"Yes, but you didn't have to tell him so early, now he won't let me have any fun." She whined, Yoongi scoffed at that, "he isn't supposed to make you have 'fun', he'd supposed to take you to get your x-ray done, it's on the first floor."

Yn pouted as Jungkook nodded at the instructions, pushing the wheelchair with Yn still in it towards the elevator. "Without the wheelchair," Yoongi clarified, making Jungkook pout as well, helping Yn out of the wheelchair.

They both sulked like kicked puppies in the elevator and Yoongi could not stand it. "Ok, fine, take the freaking wheelchair, but just be careful." he said, finally giving in. The two of them gave him bright smiles. Yn sat back in the wheelchair just as the elevator door slid open and Jungkook rolled Yn out.

They're fortunate. Yoongi thought to himself as he went about his rounds that Namjoon owned the hospital. While Yn was getting her x-ray, he checked in with his patients. Yn had a good night's sleep and awoke fairly early, according to the nurse in charge of her surveillance. She felt a minor headache, but nothing else was wrong with her. Only the shoulder was a big issue, and they were unable to determine what was causing the pain.

It took 2 hours for Yoongi to check up on all his patients and meet with a few others in the clinic when Jungkook barged into Yoongi's office with an envelope. "Jungkook you can't just barge in like that," Yoongi groaned as he quickly gave the patient their prescription before sending them out. Telling the receptionist to not send any more patients, he turned all his attention to Kook.

"Now, what's wrong?" He asked, spinning in his chair to face the intern. "Noona's reports are here" Jungkook informed, holding out the envelope. "So fast?" Yoongi questioned. It usually took a day or two for the reports and none of the radiologists took Jungkook seriously, dismissing him as just an intern. He found it suspicious that they had given the reports back so early.

"Namjoon hyung was there for an inspection, he got it done when he saw noona," Jungkook said with a cheeky grin. Yoongi nodded at the explanation. Namjoon always had a soft spot for Yn regardless of if Yn and he were together. He pulled out the reports, scanning through them. "Where is Yn now?" He asked, putting the reports back inside. Jungkook informed that Namjoon had taken her to her room, playing along with Yn's wheelchair drama.

Yoongi rolled his eyes at that, but Jungkook didn't miss the quiver of his lips. Jungkook followed Yoongi upstairs to Yn's room, where they found Yn squishing Namjoon's cheeks. Jungkook joined them, laughing, and Yn hastily let Namjoon free. "So, Doctor, what do you have to say?" Yn asked as Namjoon got out of the chair, rubbing his red-tinged cheeks.

"You must slow down with the usage of your shoulder. You appear to be putting a lot of tension on it; fortunately, it's only strain and nothing dangerous." Yoongi said, instructing Yn to apply heat and ice packs to the affected area. "Are you going to issue me a leave sick note?" Yn inquired as she got out of bed.

"Nope, you can go back to work just fine as long as you don't do any heavy lifting," Yoongi said, scribbling something on a piece of paper. "Yah, Yoongi-ah pleaseeeee write me a sick note," Yn pleaded as she searched for the t-shirt she had worn when she had come into the hospital yesterday. "Nope, and are you really going to wear that?" He asked, surprised that Yn hadn't called anyone to come to pick her up.

"Yeah, I need to head home," Yn answered, gathering her things, "Wait, you can't wear that, I have a spare shirt in my office I'll get that," Yoongi said, getting out of the chair while Namjoon and Jungkook exchanged knowing looks.

"We'll get it hyung, don't worry," Jungkook assured, dragging Namjoon with him. The two of them got into the elevator before spilling the tea. "He is SO whipped!" Jungkook exclaimed, pushing the button to go downstairs. "So is she and did you know Yoongi hyung was footing her bill and he got her a private room?" Namjoon asked, amazed at the extent his extremely tsundere hyung was going to for Yn. "He's pretty much in love all over again, and the nurse said that Yoongi hyung spent more than an hour in noona's room," Jungkook informed with a giddy smile.

"Jin hyung NEEDS to know about this," Namjoon exclaimed but made no move to call their hyung, quickly going to Yoongi's office and grabbing the gray FG shirt which was in his locker before going back upstairs.

As soon as the boys returned to the room, Yn grabbed the t-shirt. She hurriedly removed the hospital gown she had been compelled to wear. Yoongi was quick to respond, instantly stepping in front of Yn so the two younger men wouldn't get a glimpse of his lovely ex's exquisite body, and only pulling away once Yn was covered in his shirt.

"You didn't have to do that, I was wearing a tank top beneath," Yn said, tucking the shirt's hem into the jeans she had worn the day before. "For safety reasons," Yoongi shrugged, avoiding eye contact as though it weren't a big concern that he was covering up his ex. Namjoon's sniggering at the entrance went unnoticed.

"Noona how are going home?" Jungkook asked, checking the time realizing it was his lunch break. "I'll take a cab, don't worry," she assured, grabbing her phone and keys from the bedside table. "I'll drop you home, it'll be hard to get a cab at this time over here," Yoongi said, following after her into the hallway as Jungkook and Namjoon watched.

As she approached the elevator, Yn commented, not really trying to stop Yoongi from coming with her, "There's a thing called uber Yoongi, I'm sure I'll catch a cab." "Jesus woman, will you ever accept aid without a fight?" Yoongi moaned as he snatched her wrist and brought her downstairs to get his keys.

"Aish is so stubborn," Yn grumbled as she trailed behind him, her hand slipping into Yoongi's. They didn't seem to be aware that they were holding hands.

.

.

.

.

"Jin hyung will be so happy hearing about this," Jungkook exclaimed, watching Yn and Yoongi argue like an old, married couple while holding hands as they went to the hospital parking lot.

"They look cute, 10$ that they get back together by the end of the month," Namjoon bet, moving away from the window of the private room. "Hyung, you literally own the hospital, I'm just a flimsy intern, how could you expect me to pay 10$," Jungkook whined making Namjoon laugh as Yoongi’s car spedmout of the driveway.

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[scapegrace74-blog]

New Ways of Turning Into Stone

A/N  Another long drive, another Outlander fanfic idea that dropped into my brain out of nowhere, shoving aside the historical AU I have been wrestling with for months.  Here’s the pitch: Claire Beauchamp is a psychiatrist specializing in grief counselling.  Jamie Fraser is referred to her by his sister, who is worried for his well-being after a series of family tragedies.  You can probably guess the rest, but I’m going to write it anyway.   The title is taken from a song by the amazing Phantogram that was playing as the story idea came to me.

After losing my WIP virginity posting Ginger Snap, I’m going out on that limb again and posting this first chapter with only a rough outline mapped out in my head.  You people are a terrible influence!  Also, there will be some trigger warnings on future chapters, so please watch out for those.   And now, on with our show.

Claire Beauchamp glanced down at the leather-bound calendar open on her desk.  The ivory page for Thursday was packed to the margins, each hourly block filled with the name of a patient followed by a series of cuneiform symbols she used to remind herself of the last session, course of treatment, overall progress, all while maintaining strict confidentiality.  Not even Geillis Duncan, her office administrator and very good friend, knew how to decode the script.

Geillis liked to laugh at the old-fashioned day planner, reminding Claire that their practice utilized software that could perform the same function electronically, but she enjoyed the act of physically logging each session.  The solid heft of her Mont Blanc pen in her hand, a medical school graduation gift from her Uncle Lamb.  The scratch and grab of the nub as it bled black ink over virgin paper.  It was a tactile ceremony in a detached world.  Geillis would nod and then tell her she needed to get laid.

Speak of the devil, a sharp rap on her office door was followed by the appearance of her strawberry blonde head. blue eyes alight with mischief.

“Yer two o’clock is here.  Did ye need more time tae finish bolting down tha’ chaff ye call a salad, or can I show him in?”

“It’s kale,” she defended.  “It’s full of anti-oxidants.”

A disdainful scoff was the only response.

“Yes, Geil, please show Mister...” she glanced down at her planner, “...Fraser in, thank you.”

The tiny rectangle contained only a name, which meant this was their first appointment.  Geillis vetted all prospective patients, but Claire preferred to go into the first meeting blind, with no assumptions or pre-conceptions.  

She wondered what misfortune had caused Mr. Fraser to seek out her psychiatric services.  The death of a child, perhaps, or the end of an extra-marital affair.  People grieved for very different reasons and worked through or around that grief with a surprising variety of coping mechanisms.   Most called upon her practice in much the same way they would a breakdown truck when their car’s engine failed.  They simply wanted to get back on the road to happiness.

Despite the degrees and accreditations that decorated her office wall, Claire wasn’t certain such a thing was possible.  In her experience, grief was a phantom limb that never really went away.  The best one could hope for was to learn healthier ways of living with it.  

The sound of Geillis clearing her throat snapped her back to the present.

“Was there something else, Geil?”

“Och, no’ really.  Just, when yer considerin’ how tae thank me later on, remember tha’ my favourite stone is an emerald, that I prefer gold tae silver, but platinum is ne’er amiss.”

“What are you on about, Duncan?”  But her friend had already disappeared back into the reception area, leaving behind only the glow of her Cheshire smile.  Claire was shaking her head, bemused, when another knock rang out, this one considerably heavier than the first.

“Come in,” she called as she looked up.  And up.  And up some more.

The man who now practically filled her office door had to be at least six foot four, with powerful shoulders and a broad torso encased in a blue henley.  His nearly endless legs were likewise muscular, as testified by the stretch of his jeans across each thigh.  As if his physique wasn’t remarkable enough, he had a head of outrageously wavy red hair, worn long enough to graze the tops of his ears and the nape of his neck, but swept back from a high brow by a judicious use of product.  His face was angular in a pleasingly unique way, with a day or two’s growth of beard counter-balancing an almost youthful, earnest appearance.  But his most striking feature by far were his aquamarine eyes that shimmered like a tropical sea.  Eyes that were currently observing her with perplexity.

“Dr. Beauchamp?” a deep Scottish brogue inquired.  He pronounced it as though she were French.

“Yes,” she startled.  “That’s me.  And it’s pronounced Beecham.  Please, come in Mister Fraser.”  She shuffled a few items around her desk needlessly as she tried to compose herself.  Damn Geillis for not giving her a bit more warning that her newest client was some sort of fitness model.

“Thank ye,” he replied.  “An’ it’s pronounced Jamie, if ye please.”   She added wit to the growing list of the man’s attributes.

If anything, he grew even more impressive as he approached.  She could see he was nervous, although hiding it well.  His striking eyes darted about the room, trying to get a sense of his environment.  She indicated the well-upholstered armchair that sat to one side of her desk.

“Have a seat,” she invited.

With a surprising amount of grace for one so tall, he eased into the chair but didn’t lean back.  The fingers of his left hand tapped restlessly against his thigh.  She watched him quietly, waiting for him to speak.  This was a trick she had learned when she first started practicing psychiatry, but in this case it also allowed her to continue her appraisal.  He was, she concluded, the most attractive man she’d ever seen in the flesh.

“No couch,” he finally observed.

“No.  That’s a bit of a Hollywood trope, I’m afraid.  Lying prone in front of a stranger is hardly conducive to feeling at ease.”

He nodded his acceptance of her logic, but was otherwise silent.

“So,” she spoke at last, unable to wait him out, “what caused you to seek out counselling, Jamie?”  His name suited him, she thought as she spoke it for the first time.  Both boyish and imposing at once.

“I didna.  Twas my sister, Jenny, who insisted I see a doctor.”  His mobile mouth twisted into a grimace.  She could imagine the sibling discord that such a demand would have caused.  Whoever this Jenny was, she was made of strong stuff.  Unfortunately for her, a hostile patient would receive no benefit from merely visiting her office.  Counselling was a participatory process, and she could tell from the stubborn set of Jamie’s shoulders that he had no intention of participating.

“I see,” she said carefully.  “Well, it’s your time and your dime, Mr. Fraser.  This session lasts for forty-five minutes, and you’ve not been here for five.  There’s a carafe of hot water on the table over there, if you care for some tea.  Or you’re welcome to just enjoy that comfortable chair for another forty minutes.  I’ll be working on some administrative necessities.”

She turned her chair away from him, but from the corner of her eye she could see his gobsmacked expression.  He had clearly expected her to cajole and manipulate him into co-operating, but that simply wasn’t her style.

“I meant no offence, doctor.  I’m certain ye’re verra good at what ye do.  Tis only... well, Jenny is my older sister, ye ken.  She practically raised me.  And so ofttimes she treats me like a muckle-sized bairn, and no’ a man who’s capable of lookin’ after himself.”

As he spoke, Jamie leaned forward until his elbows rested on his knees, expressive hands gesturing in front of his face.  Hostile to the notion of counselling he might be, but he clearly wanted her to understand it wasn’t a slight.  As a physician, she had been trained to never take a patient’s reactions personally, but it didn’t mean she didn’t appreciate the effort.

“No offence taken, Jamie.  If you don’t need my assistance, I’m happy for you.  That’s one less person hurting in the world.”

“I didna say I wasna hurting.  But I can handle it my own way.  I am handling it, that is,” he hurried to add.

Unable to sit still any longer, he rose and walked over to the small table where she kept an assortment of herbal teas and a tray of Geillis’ homemade biscuits.  Bending over, Jamie set about making himself some; chamomile by the smell of it.  The sound of spoon ringing off porcelain as he stirred in some honey made her smile, reminding her of Lamb and his obsession with the lost art of afternoon tea.

“Can I make ye a cup?”

The question was so unexpected, it took her a moment to process it.  The tea was there as a distraction for her patients, to give them something to do with their bodies as they worked through difficult emotions.  None of them had ever thought to offer her a reprieve as well.

“No, thank you.  I just finished lunch.”

He dipped a shortbread into the steaming tea, then ate it in a single bite.  Instead of sitting back down, he began to browse the framed certificates and photographs along the far wall as he sipped his tea.  With his back turned, her eyes dipped to admire his ass, which filled out his jeans perfectly.  When she caught herself, she gave her head a shake, appalled at her lack of professional detachment.  Maybe Geillis was right.  Maybe she really did need to get laid.

“How long have ye been a doctor?” Jamie asked without turning around.

“Ten years,” she replied.  “But I’ve only been a psychiatrist for the last two.”

It was a dangerous topic, and she blamed his ass for letting the words slip out.  Fortunately, his inquisitiveness took him in an entirely different direction.

“Were ye some kind of prodigy, then? Ye hardly seem old enough tae have yer own practice, let alone fer a decade.  If ye dinna mind me sayin’ so,” he added quickly, as though realizing what he’d just said.

“Not at all.  And you hardly seem young enough to be a, what was it? A muckle-sized bairn?”

As he turned to look her way, she understood the expression ‘shot-gun smile’ for the first time.  It spread across his face like a sunbeam, transforming what was already remarkable into a work of art.  If she hadn’t been sitting, she likely would have stumbled backward from the force of the blow.  Scrambling for something familiar to keep her from making a very grave fool of herself in front of this man, she clasped her clinical training with both hands.

“Are you and your sister close?” 

“Aye, when we’re no’ tryin’ not tae kill the other.  Our Mam died when I was only four, and with Da workin’ dawn til dark on the farm, Jenny was parent, teacher an’ playmate all rolled inta one.”

“You’re not from Edinburgh, then?”  Although what that had to do with his counselling, she hadn’t a clue. 

“Nah, I hail from a wee village in the Highlands ye’ve likely ne’er heard of called Broch Mordha.”  She shook her head to indicate she was indeed unfamiliar with it.  Jamie launched into a detailed description of the place, his hands sculpting the landscape out of thin air.  He obviously cared very deeply for his home, and she felt a twinge of jealousy, having never known that feeling of deep belonging  herself.

“And what brought you to Old Smoky?” she asked as he wound down, her interest piqued.  It was like slamming a lead door on his previously sunny disposition.

“Family obligations.” Said in such a way as to make it clear that no further words would be forthcoming on the topic.  She regretted her nosiness immediately, despite what it revealed about his emotional state.  Jamie was most certainly grieving something, but handling it he was not.

Before she could find a way back to the easy flow of conversation, a chime from her laptop indicated that the session was up.  She couldn’t bear to dismiss him without trying to set things right.

“Listen, Jamie, I understand that you only came here today to humour your sister, but I want you to consider something.  Whether we’re grieving or angry or jealous, or any destabilizing feeling, we’re often the worst surveyors of our own landscape.  Just like you can’t know your place on the sea without referencing the stars, it takes something external to ourselves to measure how far adrift we have become.  Your sister obviously loves you.  Ask yourself, what has she seen in you that prompted her to force you to seek help?”

They parted with cordial but muted goodbyes.  The door closed behind him, leaving Claire to stare at the blank rectangle in her planner that bore his name.  No coded symbols flowed from her pen.  When the door re-opened, it was Geillis, closing it firmly behind her.

“Weel, did I no’ tell ye?  Wee fox, tha’ one.  And he told me he liked my shortbread!”   Geillis said this as though it was some kind of sexual euphemism, which for all Claire knew, it was.

“Yes,” she replied distractedly.  “He’s very nice.”

“Nice!  Nice?  Tha’ man is tae nice what Wagyu is tae beef jerky.  Have ye completely lost yer senses, woman?”  

“Yes, well, he’s a patient, Geillis, as you well know.  And not one I’m likely to see again,” she added, acknowledging out loud what she already knew.

“Oh, no?” Geillis sing-songed.  “Thas’ strange, as he just made an appointment fer the same time next week.”

Claire’s eyes flew to where her friend looked on, smug as could be.

“Yer three o’clock called tae say she was runnin’ five minutes late.  I’ll leave ye tae think about yer... patient.”

Claire picked up her pen, trying to pull together something resembling a professional summary of her first appointment with Jamie.  Her mind replayed their interaction, but all she could remember was the way his eyes crinkled when he was listening attentively, the tidy half-moons of his fingernails, the seam of his jeans as it contoured his thigh, and the cymbal-crash in her chest that accompanied his smile.

Patient, she reminded herself.  Jamie Fraser is your patient. 

[ladyspaceradio]

Population: Me + You

Summary: The last thing on Ryders mind was having kids. She didn’t even have a significant other, let alone a romantic interest. However when Tann proposes something to help the colonist with repopulation efforts, asking Ryder to be the forerunner of it, she wasn’t sure how to take it. But now she's got a missing Sage, a grumpy baby daddy, a convention that might change everything, oh and she has to figure out how to tell Evfra he's going to be a father!

Warning: NSFW SMUT

AO3 LINK

                                                 Chapter One

“I’m-I’m sorry can you repeat that?” Ryder sat there stunned, eyes unable to focus on the Asari doctor whose name she couldn’t remember. 

Stepping closer, the doctor placed their hand on Ryder's shoulder. “You’re pregnant, congratulations.” 

Ryder’s head tilted to the side, glazed eyes stared at the asari though she wasn’t exactly seeing her. “I’m...what?” She breathed, mind swirling in chaos not really able to grab on coherent thought. “Pregnant.” The asari spoke slower, softer, there was a frown marring her expression. She probably wondered why the human pathfinder wasn’t jumping for joy. 

She’s gotten it wrong. Ryder clings to that thought. Because she couldn’t be pregnant. Not her. Because if she was-

Not possible. 

“That's not possible.” Ryder sinks deeper into the bed, the white paper sheet crinkles under her. She takes note that the asari is young, not even having her matriarch marks yet.

“You would think,” The asari beamed.  “Andromeda is full of surprises. We’re still looking into what exactly dissolved the blockers. Some think it's a bacteria, but I’ve been looking into those vaults. If they can make planets viable, just imagine what else they can make fertile!” Her excitement starts to dwindle as she studies Ryder’s pale face. “Erm, I’ll go get you a cup of water.”

“I can’t be pregnant.” Ryder slid off the table. Her feet feel light, and head lighter. Something turns in her stomach. “It’s not possible.” “Pathfinder,-” “Your tests are wrong.” She waved a hand. “I can’t be….” She shakes her head. The asari studies her. “If you need proof.” She opens the door to the hallway. “Follow me.”

Ryder stands in the mouth of the doorway, swaying. Her stomach twisted into knots. Lexi would probably say she’s in denial, some psychological trauma from her childhood. But then Lexi wouldn’t be lying to her. 

“Come on.” The asari smiles, it seems false, twisted in Ryders opinion. Perhaps this was just another one of Tann’s tricks. He was the reason she was here to begin with. 

He had contacted her, pestered and nagged her into this. Coming into the clinic to remove her blockers, to be a leading light for colonists to follow. 

“They need comfort to know that it's safe.” Tann folded his spindly fingers, a smile stretched across his leathery skin. “It is your job to lead them down the path of the future.”

The future.

Her eyes dropped to the trashcan by the door, she just might vomit into the bag there. 

“Pathfinder?” The asari dipped her head catching Ryders eye.

Lifting her chin she stepped forward into the dim hallways. 

                                     ----3 weeks earlier-----

The humidity on Aya was a hell of a thing. Paradise that came with a price, already she could feel the droplets of water clinging to her skin. It wasn’t that it was hot, but rather misty. Sighing Ryder ran a hand over her deflated curls and eyed the surrounding Angara celebrating with pride. Their joy, while delightful  to watch, gave her a splitting headache and rattled the teeth in her jaw from the burst of concentrated bioelectricity. This was the reason she chose to sit at the bar. 

And because Evfra was currently nursing another cup of Taavum looking spiteful.

“Aren’t you supposed to be celebrating?” Ryder leans against the bar, her tall cup of Taavum, a lovely smelling angara beverage, cupped between her hands. She knows how potent this stuff can be and has no desire to get drunk tonight. 

So she tilted her head down, letting the red curls cover her face as she studied the obviously displeased angara general who was hunched over his third glass of Taavum dissuading any of his soldiers from coming up and speaking with him. 

“I am.” Short and concise, but his sour face made him look as if he’d been sucking on lemons and not being adored by his people over what they thought was the last Kett ground base on Voeld being defeated. 

“Truly?” Ryder slides into the seat beside him, giving Roaan a small wave across the bar. “And is that true joy I hear ringing in your voice?” She puts her elbows on the counter, angling her body to look at him.

“It is...” He pauses looking at her, the dark blue of his iris look darker against the contrast of the white rofjinn wrapped and his broad shoulders. A gift from the initiative, one Evfra hadn’t enjoyed considering the small initiative logo stitched into the corner. He was likely to wear it tonight only for political gain, and destroy the offending material later. 

A pity considering how handsome he looked in it. 

“Hard.”

She blinks looking into his eyes and away from his physique. More than once Evfra had been a star player in some fantasies she had brewing in her subconscious. “What is hard?” Her voice is low and husky, she does not think he gets the innuendo.

“To believe this war is almost over.” 

Almost

It’s been three years since she killed the Archon. In that time they’ve worked together to build alliance between their people, cultivate a culture of respect and peace, and fuck the kett up so hard they wouldn’t even think of coming back for fear of getting their asses kicked again. 

“Hard to believe I slept over 600 years just to hear you bellyache about my cooking.” She tossed out, feeling a high as the slow releasing alcohol ran through her veins. 

His face contorted in disgust. “Your food is bland, tasteless, and should have been used against the kett.”

“Hey now! I’ll have you know Prime Rib is a delicacy, you should be thanking me for sharing.” She huffed out a small laugh and nudged his foot beneath the counter. “Your people have a future Evfra, and it’s thanks to you.” 

“Our people Ryder.” Evfra reaches over and touches her bare shoulder. She shivers at the power in the one hand that spans over half her back. “This is all possible because of you.”

She licks her lip, tapping the countertop. “And to think, in the beginning you stole all my credit-I’m kidding wipe that look off your face.” He’s not looking at her but rather something behind her. 

Turning her head she surveyed the crowd of angara when her eyes landed on the odd couple drawing everyone attention.  

Tilting her head to the side she watched Evfra observe the woman, who held the hand of a human male. It wouldn’t be such an odd sight except she was heavily pregnant. It seemed all the angara had taken notice. This was a rare sight considering there were delays on the repopulation efforts. Most to do with the fact that colonists wanted safety and security before starting a new family. Another part that so many families had been ripped apart by the war before. 

The woman stopped and smiled at the man who touched his hand to her expansive stomach. 

Ryder hummed softly and peered at Evfra’s face, noticing his eyes were slitted. He looked ready to shoot something. “Something wrong?” There was a noise of disgust that left his lips as he spoke. “Your people do not recluse during late stages of pregnancy?” He turned looking at Ryder, dragging his gaze down her face then form, settling on her stomach. Something fluttered inside her womb at the gaze. 

Or it was the alcohol. 

“Nah, we’re social butterflies.” She picked up her drink, sipping it, taking any excuse to not look at his face. “Not the same for your people, I’m guessing.” Now that she thinks about it she definitely never saw a pregnant angara. 

At least she didn’t think so. She knew that the angara had pouches, and that pups were small. 

“No.” He snarled, lips peeled back, his scar wrinkling under the expression. He turned back to the bar and downed the cup in front of him. 

She waited to see if he said more he just stared at his hands. Silently brooding. 

“I can’t imagine being cooped up.” Ryder swiveled in her chair grinning at the obviously happy pair making their way through the market. “I’d probably put a knife if anyone tried to cage me.”

Evfra snorted. “Like you did the Primus?” He offered. 

She pursed her lips. “Wish I did more to her.” She muttered, taking a gulp of the drink. It had a heady salty taste that ended in a sweet tang. 

Primus had been a Devil, far worse than the Archon since she had not desire to waste time gawking at the Remnant. She was pure evil, seeping a dark claws into Heleus seeking to erase everything but the Kett. 

In the end it had been her pride that led to her demise. She had wanted to see Ryder die by her own hands, for the ‘glory of the Empire.’ 

But there had been no glory in her death as she choked on her own blood watching Ryder stand over her. 

Taking another gulp of the drink, Abigail shook away the memory. Smacking her lips she looked at Evfra. “You ever just think about how you're getting older?” Eyes crinkle in the corner when his face delved into a sour expression.

“No.” 

“L-I-A-R,” She sang angling her body towards him. “You think about it. I think about, we all think about it. Its like waking up one day going, huh my life's half over and what do I have to show for it? A whole lotta nuthin’” She slapped her palm on the table. “Sure I’m the savior of the galaxy but that jazz is worth what?” “Millions of lives.” Evfra offered, looking almost amused as she swayed in her chair.

“Exactly! And do you know how many of those lives I’ve had in my bed?” She threw her hands in the air, nearly knocking over her drink, if Evfra hadn’t grabbed it. “Not a one!” She sinks into the counter, both arms stretched out in front of her.

“Why would you want that many in your bed?” Evfra moves her cup to the other side of the bar. 

“I don’t want a million dicks.” Ryder grumbled, lifting her head to glare at him. “I want one. One glorious dick to be my dick forever.” 

“Perhaps you should speak with your doctor about this obsession-” He grunted and caught Ryders flailing hand as it smacked him in the chest.

She stares at her tiny hand in his massive one. Completely swallowed. She shivers at the heat radiating even through the glove. 

“No one needs a Pathfinder anymore.” She murmurs looking up at him. “And what will I do then?”

They’re both silent for a moment before he sighs. “You find something else to occupy your time. Your nose is large enough to be in everyone's business.” He’d seen how she sought out even the little task to perform. Just the other day she stopped to show a recruit how to take apart a milky way gun. 

“I have a beautiful nose.” She grunted looking at him, said nose wrinkled. Much to Evfra’s annoyance however her eyes began to mist over. “Why can’t anyone recognize that?” Her bottom lip jutted out starting to quiver. 

Evfra cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with this situation. “Your nose is the right fit for your face.” He offered.

“Really?” Ryder squeaked looking up at him. “I thought it was too big.” She touched her face and sagged. 

His hand touched her jaw, turning her to look at him. “You are perfect.”

Three words. Three simple words that came from the most unlikeliest of people. 

Ryder stared at him even after he pulled his hand back and looked away. He shifted in his chair, uncomfortable from her silence or her staring. 

“You're handsome.” She blurts as he starts to speak, her declaration silencing him. He turns to look at her, eyes roaming over her flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. “You are drunk.” He decides with a sigh. “I will call the tempest and have Jaal fetch you.”

“I’m not drunk.” Ryder pushed her thick hair back. “I’m high on liquid courage.” She smiles at him, though she is inclined to think she might be drunk when her mouth continues to spew thoughts from her brain. “I always thought you were handsome. Scar really adds to the good looks.” She nibbles her lips looking at him now, eyes tracing along the scar.

How many times had she fantasized kissing those twin lines that defined his features. Oh how she pictured nibbling them down to his lips that looked so plump that she knew they would cradle her own against them. 

Ryder shuddered leaning forward. He’s studying her expression when she reaches over, laying a hand on his muscular thigh.

“If you weren’t so walled off, Evfra, I’d almost suggest we hook up.” Ryder wiggles her brows.

He lets out a soft snorting chuff, his hand grabs hers and pulls it away before it could wander up to the crux of his thighs. “I think you’ve had enough.” He rasps in a husky tone, one that makes her thighs clench together as heat floods her core. “I will walk you back to your ship.” He slides out of the seat in a smooth motion that makes her head a bit dizzy.

“No thanks,” She jerks her arm out of his grip. “I don’t….I don’t want to go back there.” She curled an arm around her waist. “It’s lonely.”

They had come to Aya for more than this celebration, she’d come to say goodbye to Jaal as he and Avale were uniting their families and starting a life together. Just a few months prior Drack had left as well to be with Kesh and her second clutch of baby Krogan. Peebee had one foot out the door, Ryder could feel everyday she was itching for more than what the Tempest was doing. She knew that their time together wasn’t forever, but watching her family drift apart little by little was harder than she expected. 

Evfra was silent as she slumped down in her seat, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “Let me crash at the resistance.” She grumbled.

“That isn’t something I can do.” He took hold of her arm again, and she allowed herself to be tugged out of the chair, though she misjudged the distance from her seat to the ground and landed directly into his chest with a soft  ‘oomf.’

His hand settled on the back of her neck, the other holding her arm ran down to cup her hip. She looked up at him, breath caught in the back of her throat. She was pressed tightly to his chest, breast molding to the hard plains of his, nipples stiffening as she felt a knot of arousal bubbling in her stomach. 

Gasping she watched his nose wiggle, eyes slitting as he bent his head. “You’re…”

She doesn’t think about it, in the future she’ll blame the alcohol running through her system, and the mix of Evfra’s heady scent, but she lunges, cutting off his words, smashing her mouth against his in a teeth clicking kiss that is more pain then pleasure. 

Evfra hisses, hand on her neck tangles with her hair, pulling her head back. Her lip is busted and bleeding, eyes glazed. Ryder sucked in a breath, her last bit of dignity began to shrivel as her hazy mind grasped at the lingering sanity pointing out she just kissed Evfra De Tershaav and likely ruined any type of friendship they have built over the past 4 years. 

“Evfra,” She twisted in his hold, hands pushing on his chest. “I’m-“

Her wobbly tone cut off as he bend his head, brushing his mouth against her nose, down her cheek, and ghosted over her lips. “You are too impatient, Ryder.” His husky tone sent a thrill down her spine that settled in her stomach. 

She tilted her head back trying to catch his mouth. She mewled softly when he pulled away.

“Not here.” He tugged her into his side tucking her against him, chuffing softly.

He doesn’t seem to mind her wandering hands this time. In fact she can hear the faintest sound of a purr thrumming deep in his chest. She almost calls him a pussy she’s willing to stroke when he suddenly tugs her off the main road and presses her up against the wall. 

Massive hands span over her hips as he dips his head towards hers. Letting out a sigh as their lips touch, he takes control keeping her head tilted with a fist in her fiery hair. He laps at the seam of her lips, but doesn’t go deeper despite her wiggling and whimpers of protest. 

“I’m starting to think you enjoy torturing me.” She gasp fingers curling around the straps laying against his chest. Her body’s pressed against his, hips grinding into his front. She makes needy keens in the back of her throat.

“Are you always this impatient Ryder?” He chuckles against her skin, lips igniting a fire beneath them.

“Call me Abigail, Evfra.” She panted against his mouth. She hadn’t the will power to extract herself from those delectable lips. Oh how she pictured kissing him! The reality blew all those lusty fantasies away. She made a wanton noise in the back of her throat as he nibbled her bottom lip. 

“Ahbee-gal” He purrs against her ear. The reverberating sound of his voice sends twings of pleasure down her spine, settling at her contracting core. He inhales deeply, chuckling at her reaction. “I’m going to ravish you.”

“Oh god yes!” She mewls  digging her fingers into his rofjinn, tugging to bring him back to her. 

He laughs, a deep throat thrum that she’s never heard before. If she had been more clear headed and less horny she would try desprately to remember the sound. Though that isn’t what is keeping her focus at the moment while ehr hands trail southward. Not that they get very far when the wall behind her suddenly disappears. 

Letting out a small wail, she nearly tumbles down to her ass if Evfra hadn’t snatched her waist. 

“Rude!” She huffed, craning her neck back to stare at the room behind her. Not that she can see much through the dim interior lighting. What she can see is a spare room filled with only the essentials. 

Of course her mind isn’t on the surrounding area long when a hot mouth presses to her shoulder sucking the the flesh there. 

“Clothing off.” She mewls hands tugging at his shirt trying to magic it off him with each tug. Why did angara clothing have so many buckles! Ryder begins to pout at the sight, muttering dark words about forbidden treasures being locked away. 

Chuffing in amusement he gently extracts her hands. “Let me.” His fingers make dizzly fast work of all the buckles and clasps. 

Hands free she starts work on her own clothing, while following Evfra as he tugs off his Rofjinn. Of course wanting to be naked soon as possible she attempts to take the shirt off without properly unbuttoning it first. 

Ryder stumbled into the bedroom door, her arms caught up in the sleeves as she tried to rip off the blouse she wore. She could hear Evfra huffing at her. Grinning she shimmied out of her shirt and tossed it onto the floor and wiggled a brow at him. 

“I would say your seduction talents needs some work.” He stated dryly folding the rofjinn and setting it aside. 

Licking her bottom lip she greedily drank in the sight of him shirtless, taking in his broad chest to his tampered waist. She especially appreciated the hard muscles that moved beneath his deep blue skin. Letting out a groan she moved toward him, hands out stretched to touch his skin. 

Catching her small hand by the wrist, Evfra let out a soft chuffing sound. “What happed to undressing?” He lifted her wrist and kissed the racing pulse beating beneath the skin. 

“I got caught up wanting to touch this perfection.” She whispered, swallowing back the saliva that built in her mouth. 

“Mmm.” He nips her skin before letting her go. “Are all humans so easily distracted or is it just you?” 

She let out an indignant huff. “Oh no it’s just me when there’s a particularly inviting male….” She steps closer, hands on his stomach stroking up and down grinning as his muscles contracted at the touch. “Needing to be stroked.”

He had scars across his skin, faded blue colors, almost white. She couldn’t resist leaning in and licking the one across his ribs. He let out a shuddering purr and yanked her into his chest. 

“Abigail.” Her name is a deep groan that leaves his mouth. 

And then he was kissing her again. Tongue sliding against her own, tangling together as his palmed her heavy breast. The skin of his palm sends electrical current through her breast, making her nipples stiffen and pleasure rock down to the clenching of her core.

Abigail moans against his mouth, enjoying the feeling of his touch too much to even notice when it became skin to skin contact. Until he breaks their kiss to pull away the tattered remains of her bra off her body. 

“Did you just he-man my bra off?” She spread her fingers against his chest, using his imposing unmoving form to steady herself. She thinks the alcohol has hit her system. She feels all warm and tingling. There’s a heat that starts in her stomach and pulses down. 

“I am unsure of your word,” He presses his mouth to her throat sucking on the skin there. “But yes, I did just rip that flimsy fabric.” He licked at the hollow of her throat, paying special attention to her jumping pulse. “I will buy you another, better, one.” 

“Mmm.” She tilted her head back, fuzzy brain can’t really focus on his words only on the sensation of his mouth making a path up her throat to her jaw, then his breath ghosted against her ear.

“Hold onto me.” He lifted her hands to his shoulders. And before her bogged mind could grasp his order he hefted her up, with one arm, wrapped around her ass. 

Squealing she hooked her thighs around those slim hips, pressing her heated core against his side. Her eyes rolled back at the sensation of his hip brushing against the wet crux between her thighs. 

Silencing her soft mewling noises he dropped her to the bed suddenly making a shriek leave her lips as she bounced against the mattress. Propping herself up on her elbows Abigail huffed at him, glaring up at his smirk. “Evf-”

Suddenly bending he grabbed the legs of her pants and yanked. Dragging them off her hips, along with her underwear. Which was left dangling of her ankle as he tossed her pants aside. They were less than flattering being the initiative issued clothing. A bland cotton cloth that  as Liam described  it, were ‘whitie tighties.’ 

If she had known the night would have gone differently she would have gotten her her red thong-

These thoughts abruptly disintegrated as Evfra lifts her ankle, looping a finger through one of the leg holes and holds the pair of plain undies up.

He drank in her scent with huffing breathes, large hands gripping the thin strip of clothing covering her soaked core. He growled as she let out a soft noise of disapproval. 

With a fangy smirk he lifted the soaked cloth to his nose. “Sweeter than pairpo.” Evfra purred, licking the panties then dropping them to finish ridding himself of his own pants. 

Abigail's eyes were glued to the movements, watching the fabric slide down his hips, lower and lower until Evfra was completely revealed to her. 

Lips parted in surprise, she stared at his cock. It was a darker blue and violet color, speckled with white across the underside of the shaft. He was thick and similar to a human male: if you didn’t count the fluttering ridges, the tapered head and bulbous base. The thing that shocked her and had her inching up the bed was that is was writhing against his stomach as if it had a mind of its own. 

Abigail didn't get to study him much before he grabbed her ankles and pulled her forward to the edge of the bed. 

Kissing each ankle Evfra placed the on his elbow, spreading her wide open for him like a flower blooming in spring. His eyes glued to her flushed skin. Pupils dilated, lips curled upward, he made a low snarling sound. 

Abigail flushed shifted against the bed feeling utterly vulnerable being spread before him like a feast. Which is how he was looking at her. She could even see him drag his tongue across his lower lip. 

“I must look alien to you.” She whispered self-conscious of her nudity. She curled an arm over her breast and sucked on her bottom lip. 

“You are….” He swallowed audibly, drawing his gaze from her pink cunt to her eyes. “Beautiful.” He purred, kneeling between her thighs. “I have never seen anything close to you.” 

“I’ve been curious,” his tone has taken a raspier note. The ‘r’s of his words dragged out in a sound that makes her shiver.  Warm hands drag along her thighs. Her muscles quiver in anticipation as he settled between her parted legs and inhales. 

Mewling she arches into him, head tossing back and forth in frustration. She wants him to touch her-why wasn’t he touching her. 

“Your kinds coupling is violent,” He strokes a hand down her skin. Petting her with the lightest touches on her stomach, hips, arms. But no where she WANTS him to touch. 

There is a tiny thought that wonders at what he’s seen to make such a judgement but it’s swept away in the tidal wave of arousal beneath his gentle touches. 

“Please!” Ryder keens softly her own hands trail up her body cupping the gentle slopes of her breast. 

He watches her but does nothing to end her torment as he speaks with slow decisive touch’s over her skin. “Your softer than any Angara I’ve been with.” As if to emphasize this point he groped the fat of her hips. She sighs as the touch, undulating beneath him. “I will not take you as your people do.” He bends tongue drags across the divot of her hip bone up the planes of her stomach. 

“Don’t care!” She cries out pinching her nipple watching him taste her skin with small licks traveling up her body. Everything throbs at the sight. She can feel herself spasm with need, a yearning to feel him slip between her thighs, to fill her to the edge of pain. To fuck her into this mattress till she can no longer move. 

“Evfra!”

He smirks leaning over her. “Responsive.” He stops her hands gathering both wrist. “Much better then the vids.” He murmurs softly against the swell of her breast. She’s holding her breath, nearly vibrating with wanton need.

A small thought bubbles in the back of her mind, that she’s edging the point of no return. That this was going to be a bad idea that spirals into a pit of despair if she didn’t stop. But that little bubble popped the moment his tongue sweeps out against her pert nipple. 

Crying out she arches into him, hands twist in the hold that has them. “Sensitive.” He growled lapping at the pink nub, circling it with the tip of his blunt tongue. Her toes curl at the feeling, his tongue had a texture to them and seemed to vibrate against the peak of her breast. 

He nibbled down the slope of her puffy breast, switching to lavish the other with attention. 

“I like how soft you are.” He growls squeezing and molding the breast to the palm of his hand. “How incredibly soft.” His mouth seals of the taunt peak, making her arch up into the sucking of his hot mouth.

He’s making a wet slurping sound while he suckles the peak of her nipple. His hand spanning her ribs moves down her side, cupping her rear that is pressed against his clavicle bone, which she’s been rutting unconsciously again.

She let out a moan as his finger slid along her cunt. He let out a rumble, seemingly surprised at how wet she was. Abandoning her breast with gentle kisses he travels down her stomach. Stopping to lavish attention to each of her small scars, freckles, and stretch marks. He grins at her as he nibbles her hip bone.

“Your scent is driving me wild.” He noses her red curls purring when she jerks against his hold. “It always drives me wild.” He lets out huffs parting her lips and stares at the pink clutch dripping with arousal. “I have longed to taste.”

“E-evfra.” Abigail wiggles in his hold, mind hazy with arousal. She mewls, trembling in anticipation. He seems to be taking his time savoring her scent that has her flushing with embarrassment. That doesn’t last long when he opens his mouth and licks along her slit with a decisive stroke. 

She mewls softly, hips jerking against his mouth. His spans a hand against her stomach, keeping her in place while his tongue makes feather soft touches across her cunt. It was light and gentle touches that were driving her wildly mad.

Thighs kept spread with his shoulders, he had full control of her body. She let out a deep cry, body shuddering. “Evfra!” She grabs his sheets jerking up into his mouth, trying to grind into him. 

He lets out a purr, vibrating that tongue against her clit that sends her spiralling down. Eyes rolling back as a slow building orgasm trickles into her system. Every muscle in her body quivers beneath the slow lazy licks of his tongue. Gasping, her knees fall open, hips ground up into his mouth. Rocking in time with his broad strokes. 

“Evfra, Evfra evfra.” She chants feeling the burn of overstimulation but she can’t stop rocking into him, can’t stop the second orgasm building as he audibly gulps at her cream. She lets out a sharp yelp when he presses a thick, blunt, finger into her weeping entrance. 

“Look at how you grasp me.” He purrs. “Greedy.” He sinks his finger deeper into her swollen, pink, clutch. Cooing at the way she grips his digit. Like a hungry mouth suckling him back in. 

Moaning, her head tossed side to side as he filled her up, opening her wide with slick wet noises as he moved his finger inside of her. It had been a long dry season since she last been with a man. At the moment she couldn’t even remember it, only what Evfra was doing to her body as he shifted pulling her hips higher. 

Nibbling her outer lip he thrust his finger deeper, both groaning as he did. “So soft.” He rasped. “How can any male leave this body.” His eyes met hers. “I’m going to make you sing for me.” 

Singing wasn’t what she felt her throat was doing. Opera more like it as she shrieked at the powerful orgasm that made her body arch and clench. She practically bowed off the bed while her vision went dark. All the while she could feel him still working his finger deeper into her cunt while loudly licking up the cum dripping out of her. 

“Stars.” He rasped  looking at her flushed body and shaking limbs. 

Abigail certainly felt like she saw stars as she went limp against the mattress. Her body jerked against him as he withdrew his finger. Drowsiness edged into her consciousness as she stretched languid. 

Of course two orgasms later and Evfra was nowhere near done with her. He chuckled as he kissed up her body, saying hello to the girls before he was fully looming over Ryder. 

“I hope you aren’t about to fall asleep.” He nudged his nose against her chin, urging her thighs to wrap around his waist. 

“Mmm.” Ryder cracked an eye open suddenly far more awake as something rolled against her sensitive lips. Breath hitched when he nudged her entrance with the head of his cock. 

“Oh!” SHe gasped as the odd sensation of being filled by something that wasn’t entirely human. 

Thighs quivering against his hips, she attempted to roll away from the burrowing entity that was Evfra’s cock, only to feel the first set of ridges slip into her and go completely still. She was instantly melting into a puddle of pleasure as they rowed against the walls of her. Especially tickling her g-spot. Making her clench around him with a groan. 

Scar wrinkled he closed his eyes holding her hips, soft a mewling noise left his throat. “Stars.” He looked down at her then, eyes slitted. “The way you grip me…” He rubbed the mark he left on her skin, breathing hard. 

Drool was dribbling out of her mouth while she gazed up at Evfra, hips rolling against the thick cock. Toes curling, heels digging into his back to spur him on. But Evfra seemed determined to drive her mad. He moved in a slow pace, until he was completely sheathed within her warmth. 

“Tight.” He growled against her skin, he was making many marks against her collarbone, sinking his fangs into the yielding skin. Ryders own nails were clawing at his back as she felt the bulbous base popping into her cunt. 

“Evfra!” She cried so sweetly, tears leaking out of her eyes as he began to pull out of her at the same slow pace. He could feel her climax as he pushed in, feeling the way her walls clenched and pulsed, beckoning him to seed her. 

How he thought of her swollen with his child, like the human he saw before. His lips peeled back in the though as he pulled her hips flush against his, sinking into her depths. A hand span up between the valley of her bouncing breast and lay over her vunerable throat. 

She gasped, tilting her head back giving his hand more room as he cupped her throat, thumb stroking over her racing pulse. She murmured how she couldn’t give him another one. But she would-oh she would cum again on his cock, and he would fill her womb with his seed. And once she was limp beneath him he would slide down her body to taste their coupling, coax yet another orgasm from her. 

Maybe then he would let her rest, but he would spend the night between her thighs.

“You’re a treasure.” He bent over her, hips gliding along her thighs, sticking to the steady pace. Those ridges rubbed against her walls. He can feel the tells of his own climax coming as the ridges began to row, seeking to interlock with a female angara’s grooves. They would become thicker as he climaxed, ensure that none of his seed escaped. 

He watched as Abigail’s green eyes widen at the feeling, her wet lips parting with a soft ‘Oh!’ as a shudder rocks her body. She orgam’s against him, he can feel her soak him as a wordless cry escapes her. He growls bending down to capture her lips, sinking deep into her cunt as spurts of his seed coat her womb.

-----Present-----

She chewed on her nail, biting into the skin but not breaking it. 

How did one tell the grumpy resistance leader that his one night stand led to a new life? 

She hadn’t even seen Evfra since then. Much less spoke to him. Her hands threaded together behind her head as she let out a low sigh staring at the screen of the empty email. Twice she started typing, both started with an apology neither made past the second sentence. She wanted to be a coward, send him an email, throw the proverbial ball at him and wait. 

Turning in her chair she pulled out the glossy black and white photo. Though it was hard to discern what exactly the picture was, she could make out the small pea like blobs in the photo as her children. 

Multiple...

She shuddered, a sour taste filled her mouth, her stomach rolled. Taking gulping breathes she warded off the nausea. Apparently the Doctor, Y’lusia, Sara remembered her name after leaving, said she was in 10  weeks along. Funny considering she’d slept with Evfra 3 weeks ago. But Ryder hadn’t said a word, just numbly taken the photo. 

Y’lusia informed her that she would be sending the file over to Lexi, who was her main doctor, but thought it best for her to set up another appointment at the clinic to see a specialist. She wouldn’t be returning to that clinic, Ryder thinks with a bitter expression. 

It was a shame Lexi was attending the Nexus seminars at the moment, and Harry was acting at the Tempest replacement. 

Gave her plenty of time to avoid, ignore, this predicament a little longer.

::Ryder, Director Tann wishes to speak with you.:: SAM popped up at his router, to the left of her elbow. She let out a low noise of discomfort thinking about talking to him.

“Any way I can put him off?” She leaned back into the chair, putting the ultrasound photo into a draw where it was to be forgotten for a time. ::I can tell him you are occupied with personal matters.:: SAM offered. 

“Uuuugh no,” She stood and pulled her hair back into a bun. “It will only make matters worse.” She stood and looked at the Orb. “How do I look?” ::Like Abigail Ryder.::

She snorted softly. “Remind me to have Jaal teach you some sauve lessons SAM.’ She took a few breaths shaking her hands out. “Maybe I should change.” She glanced down at her sweat stained sleepshirt. She hadn’t bothered dressing, as there was no one needing her attention. They’d just gone to Eos, dropping Peebee off. 

It had been a sad, and regretfully sober, party for Ryder. While Peebee bounced around the remaining tempest crew wishing them good tidings, Abigail had been preoccupied with thoughts of what her future was now going to look like. 

Groaning she tugged her shirt off and ambled over to her messy wardrobe. She shifts and sniffs each article till she finds a decent one and tugs it on. It's here she glances at the mirror and frowns as the material stretches thin across her abdomen. A hand settles across the swelling between her hips. 

Letting out a slow sigh she turns away from the mirror quickly and heads to the door. 

She is lucky that she can play it all off on the removal of the blockers for the time being.  

“Ryder,” Tann’s eyes blinked one just slower than the other. Abigail tilted her head to the side, was it old age? Perhaps he was having a silent seizure. She almost wanted to call a doctor just to end this meeting.

“Tann.” She says his name in a slow draw, blinking her eyes one just slower than the other. 

“I see you have gone into the clinic, I will be setting up a meeting for you on Nexus, we’ll get this ball rolling. Addison will be in touch shortly, she’s eager to begin this campaign. The colonist need something to look towards.” His babbling seemed to cause the spiking ache behind her eyes. One that had her stomach turning. “Mmm.” Ryder replied, rubbing her temple. “I’ll be stopping at Aya first.” She had to speak with baby-babies-daddy about something. 

Like the very impeding existence of being a baby daddy.

“That’s perfect! I’ll send the reporters there,” Her stomach drops as she tries to speak but Tann prattles on regardless of her protest.  “Good scenery, the angara are good place to start. Being all about family as they are. It will be a good start, very good Ryder,” She wonders if good was the only vocabulary he knew when he waves his hand in a wide arch.  “I will let Addison know. Tann out.” 

Then he was gone, and she was left there, feeling bamboozled. 

How did my life become this?

She sucked in a sharp breath a gurgle logged in the back of her throat and she stumbled away from the vid coms racing to the crosswalk where she jumped down and shoved Liam out of the way. 

“Hey!” He hollered. “I have to piss.” 

Ryder didn’t answer as she bent over the sink and vomited.

“Never mind.” He backed out of the bathroom and turned away.

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[bartramcat]

This is a little piece I knocked out after watching Early Rollout about a year ago. It's my headcanon about what Brass might have seen and thought after Butterflied.

_______________

He had never seen Gil Grissom like this. Raw. Emotional. He knew he was trying to bait the doctor into confessing, but his words were so personal. It was Grissom himself who was doing the confessing.

So there was a girl who had managed to get under his skin, a girl he might be in love with. Now that was a contradiction: Gil Grissom in Love. At first he thought he was talking about Lady Heather. He knew there was a definite infatuation there, but his tone didn't seem right. It was too soft, full of introspective regret. 

He left the interview room and watched the doctor and his lawyer leave. Grissom remained, head down, as if chained to the table. He went round the corner and saw a familiar figure on the observation deck. He watched Sara for a few moments. She looked stricken, as if her dog had died. He moved towards her, and he saw the tracks of tears on her face.

"I'm sorry, Sara. There wasn't enough evidence. We know he did it, but we can't prove it." He knew she could get emotional, bond a little too much with the victims. And this one could have been her twin. She didn't respond. It was as if she didn't hear him. She continued to stare in...at Grissom.

Suddenly, she looked at him. Yes. She was crying. "Let me buy you a cup of coffee." 

"I can't." She looked in one last time at Grissom. "I'm sorry." And she turned and walked quickly away from him.

He watched her leave, walking a bit too quickly, as if in flight. He took her place on the observation deck. Grissom was still sitting there, as if wrapped in regret. Immobile.

"Huh." 

He thought back. There had been rumors years ago. That Grissom had had a thing with her in San Francisco and brought her here. Was she his girlfriend? His ex-girl? The one he wanted to be his girlfriend?

As far as he knew, nothing had ever happened between them here. Could they have been lovers in San Francisco?

He replayed Grissom's words in his head. Someone young and beautiful. Someone we could care about. She offers a new life with her. Definitely not Lady Heather. His response to her, well, more visceral. Heather didn't need anyone to care for her. She might offer mind-blowing sex, but a new life? He couldn't imagine Heather setting up housekeeping with anyone. Sara, on the other hand. Sara needed someone to love her, to care about her, someone for her to love; she was someone with whom to share a life. 

Brass went back into the interview room. "Come on, Gil. You need to go home to bed."

"I made a mistake, Jim."

"We can't catch them all. You know that."

Grissom looked at him, as if about to say something.

"Look, Gil, I know the case shook you. It shook all of us. That girl looked so much like Sara."

At the sound of her name, he saw Grissom visibly jerk in his chair, as if he'd been shot.

"But it wasn't her. You go home now. Things will look better after you sleep."

"I'm not sure things will ever be…"

But he didn't finish.

"Thanks, Jim."

His friend stood up and walked out of the room. He watched him go; he felt as if he'd been dropped into the middle of a heartbreaking love story. If his gut was right, it explained so much. 

There had always been a sadness about Sara. Well, maybe not initially. She had been brash, confident, albeit socially awkward with her co-workers, but secure in her place with Grissom. His first hire. The girl from San Francisco. An intellectual. Like Grissom.

Those first few months were a blur, what with him being transferred back to PD, and Grissom taking over. He never blamed Gil. He had never played politics, angled for his job. He was just his unflappable, unemotional, nerdy self. But that girl seemed to have an effect on him. There were cases even that first year where Grissom went the extra mile. For Sara. And he almost lost his shit when she volunteered to be bait in the strip strangler case.

They always stood too close together. They never touched each other, but it was almost as if they were magnets, pulled towards each other unconsciously, as if there was a need to occupy the same space. Did Grissom choose his career over love? Sure sounded that way. And now Sara knew it too. Whatever he felt for her, he had decided his career was more important. And he knew he had made the wrong choice.

Well, if all of his suppositions were valid, he did have a front row seat to a tragic love story. And it would bear watching.

He was worried about Sara. He suspected she had started drinking, and he suspected it was to numb the pain of her discovery that Gil probably cared for her, maybe even loved her, but they could never be together.

He understood Gil's dilemma. From his perspective, he couldn't have a life with Sara and his career. Well, he could. He thought about his friend. As far as he knew, he had not been involved with any woman for as long as he had known him. There had been a brief flirtation with that anthropologist and whatever the fascination with Heather. But no relationships.

He knew Grissom wasn't like other men. Most men wouldn't care. If a young woman like Sara made it known she was available, most men wouldn't hesitate. But then most men, himself included, tended to bend their ethics and their morals in matters involving gratifying that thing between their legs.

He chortled. Grissom and sex didn't compute. But on some weird level Grissom in love with Sara did. They had a lot in common. And, he suspected, they had the same sad longing: for each other. 

It must have happened in San Francisco. He thought back. There was a Forensics Academy Conference Grissom had lectured at a couple of years before everything changed. When Grissom came back, he was different somehow. He'd be talking one moment and miles away the next. He thought it was Grissom being Grissom. It never occurred to Brass that perhaps he'd met a girl, a girl that meant something, a girl he didn't forget the minute the next case started. Nor did he make the connection when he brought Sara in 2 years later.

When he heard about her DUI, it, sadly, did not surprise him. The girl was a mess. He considered having a talk with Grissom. How had he not seen Sara was in trouble, enough trouble to risk her career? Maybe even her life. When he heard she had to go to mandatory counseling, he breathed a sigh of relief. He hoped she would get some help.

After a time it seemed Sara was back on some semblance of solid footing, although she could still be a little too reckless for his taste. Was it possible the girl was so much in love with Grissom that she really thought she had nothing to live for? Of course, with her background, there had to be scars. He had looked into it, and it wasn't pretty. Yet in spite of all that, this girl had gone to Harvard on a full scholarship at 16! Yeah, on some level, she was the female equivalent of Grissom.

Well, they seemed to be comfortable together again. At least they seemed to be getting along again, but what the hell was Grissom's fascination with Sofia? Suddenly there were all these rumors that the two of them were having a "thing." Brass didn't buy it. Grissom was probably just studying her the way he tended to study anything or anyone new in his circle and now Ecklie had made a total asshole move to punish both of them. 

Damn. Now what had Sara done? Insubordination? Both Catherine and Ecklie? What on earth was the girl thinking? She really was like Grissom, as impolitic as he was. Ecklie wanted her out, wanted Grissom to fire her. 

"I don't know what he sees in her." Catherine was perplexed. Brass pointed out that Grissom often looked the other way when it came to his team. Including Catherine. She had no answer. "You know Gil doesn't like change. Ecklie already took you and Nick and Warrick away from him." "I hadn't looked at it like that." "Cut him some slack."

It was clear Grissom had refused to fire her, but he suspected it was for more personal reasons. When she came back, she seemed calmer somehow, more at peace. He watched them at crime scenes. They seemed to be back where they started, again standing too close to each other, smiling at one another when they thought no one was watching. After everything, it seemed, they were still in love.

Brass figured this would be the norm going forward. At some point, Sara would find someone new, and Gil would be left alone. As he'd said, he had his chances, and he blew them. She needed more than to know he cared for her; she needed him to love her. Unfortunately, for both of them, he suspected that would never happen.

[mldrgrl]

Broken Things 15/24

by: mldrgrl Rating: varies by chapter, rated R overall See Chapter 1 for summary and notes

He’s never felt so lightheaded in his life, but heavy at the same time.  His shoulder is sore.  He’s both hot and cold.  Just a few moments ago, Katherine told him she would be right back and under no circumstances to move from where he lays in the bathing tub.

When Katherine returns, she brings Jimmy and Jesse with her.  The two men stand awkwardly in the doorway, averting their eyes and clearing their throats.  Katherine is no-nonsense with them, ordering them to assist Mulder in standing, mind his injured arm, and make sure he does not fall.

“If you feel too weak, like you’re going to faint, or that you can’t walk, you say something,” she tells Mulder.

He already feels weak, but he’s too embarrassed being helped to his feet in his own bathing tub by his ranch hands.  They get him up and out of the tub and then Mulder does have to pause for a moment.  He feels momentarily dizzy and a bit nauseated, but it passes and they can continue out of the washroom into the hallway.

Mulder is soaking wet, dripping water everywhere from head to toe.  He looks apologetically at the floor and at Katherine.

“Don’t worry about it,” she says.  “I’ll mop up later.”

While Jesse and Jimmy are helping him into his room, Katherine gathers all the towels she can find.  She lays two towels out at the edge of the bed and has the men sit Mulder on them.

“Thank you gentlemen, I’ll take it from here.”

The brothers look relieved to be dismissed.  They scurry out of the room and Katherine starts by draping a towel around Mulder’s shoulders.  She manages to get him out of the right arm of his undershirt and then removes the sling to complete the job.

“Hold still just for a few moments,” she says.  She stretches the collar out and pulls the shirt over his head and then off his arm without too much disturbance.  She has a dry, torn up pillowcase on hand to fashion a new sling and then she pats his chest dry.

When she starts to dry his back, she leans into him and cups the back of his head with one hand.  He sighs, his face so close to her breast that he’s nearly resting his cheek against her.  Her hands are gentle and soothing.  They make him feel sleepy.

“I’m going to lay you back now,” she says.

“Okay,” he murmurs.

She embraces him from his right side, one arm around his shoulders and the other across his middle.  She draws his head to her shoulder and then brings him down onto his side.  She slides away then, but holds the back of his neck as she pulls his legs up onto the bed.  She makes sure he has a pillow underneath his head and then she places her hand gently onto his shoulder.

“Close your eyes,” she says.

“Close my eyes?”

“Not for long.”

“Alright.”  He’s confused, but closes his eyes.  When he feels her fingers brush his abdomen and unbutton his drawers, he thinks she must be the most caring person he’s ever met, the way she was able to anticipate any possible discomfort for either of them.  She drapes a towel over his abdomen and upper legs and somehow manages to remove his soaked drawers from underneath it.  Her fingertips graze the outside of his thighs and he knows it’s a very good thing he’s feeling so lousy and weak because the tingle he feels in his pelvis isn’t quite strong enough to cause any embarrassment, even though it should.

“You can open them now,” she says.

He opens his eyes to the ceiling for a few moments, but then watches her as she dries his legs and feet, noting just how methodical and efficiently she works.  Melvin had given him that same observation, but he hadn’t truly seen it in action before.  She’s also the most confident and commanding he’s ever known her to be before with the way she directed the boys, and him.

“Kate,” he says.

“I’m going to get some fresh underthings for you and hopefully the doctor will be here soon.”

“Doctor?”

“Melvin rode out to fetch him.”

“Oh.”

Katherine putters around his room, picking up wet towels and clothes and taking them away.  She opens up his wardrobe and rummages through his underthings before taking out a pair of drawstring drawers.  She dresses him as smoothly as she undressed him.  For some reason it’s more embarrassing for her to be putting him into fresh drawers than it was for her to take them off.

“Kate, I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry all this happened,” he says as she removes the towel from his hips.  “I mean, I’m sorry that I didn’t get the chance to apologize for the way I behaved last night.  That was only last night, wasn’t it?  I haven’t lost some days I’m not aware of?”

He smiles to let her know he’s not being serious, but she drops her head and folds the towel over her arm.  The sound of horse hooves outside prompts her to move and she goes to the window and looks outside.

“Looks like the doc is here,” she says.  “We can talk about that later and I’d like you to know I’m sorry as well.”

“You don’t have anything to apolo-”

“Katherine?” Melvin calls from the door.

Katherine goes to the bedroom door and opens it.  The doctor rushes in with his bag, removing his hat and nodding at Katherine as he comes through.  Mulder has met the doctor a handful of times and has found him to be a decent man.  Melvin stays in the hall, but paces by the door.

“Ma’am, you must be Mr. Mulder’s wife,” the doctor says.

“Katherine.”

“Doctor Black.  I understand Mr. Mulder has taken a fall?”

“Yes, I believe he fell from his wagon after suffering sunstroke.  His shoulder was dislocated from the fall, but I was able to reset it.  We got him into a cool tub and I gave him salted water to rehydrate.  When he regained consciousness I observed that his pupils were of two different sizes indicating a possible concussion.  There is a small hematoma at the left side of the head, above the ear.”

“I see.”  The doctor nods and sets his bag down at the foot of the bed and opens it.  He removes his black jacket and rolls up his sleeves.  “How long was Mr. Mulder unconscious for?”

“Approximately ten to fifteen minutes.”

“Any vomiting or altered speech?”

“No, Sir.”

“Headache?”

“No complaints thus far.”

“Very good.  Let’s have a look then, shall we?”

The doctor sits at the side of the bed and begins to prod Mulder about the ribs and then the shoulder.  He’s less gentle than Katherine and he winces a few times under his ministrations.  He asks a few questions of Mulder and checks the sling.  Katherine watches the doctor’s every move, staying behind him and to the side, but close.  The doctor makes little murmuring noises to himself as he works.

“How might you have come to be so knowledgeable about patient assessment and treatment?” Doctor Black asks, turning to look over his shoulder at Katherine.

“I had a year of nurse’s training, Sir.”

“Mmhm.  Well, they did a fine job with your training.”

Mulder is surprised to learn this piece of information, but not shocked.  Her handling of him during this time was impressive enough, but to learn she’s had a year of training along with it, it means her skill also comes with knowledge.

“Tell me,” the doctor says, standing and rolling his sleeves back down.  “What would you suggest as treatment at this stage?”

Katherine doesn’t falter or hesitate.  “I’ll be making a bone broth shortly that I believe he should take for at least the next three days.  A liniment for the shoulder, preferably of camphor, to alleviate any soreness.  Aside from that, rest and limited use of the arm for the time-being.”

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Mulder asks.

“Have you had nurse’s training as well?” Doctor Black asks.

“No, I haven’t.”

“Then I’m afraid you’re not qualified.”  The doctor takes a tin of liniment from his bag and gives it to Katherine.  “Rub this into the shoulder every few hours or as necessary.  Plenty of rest and limited use of the arm for the next week.  If he misbehaves, make it two.”

“Hey, now,” Mulder says.

The doctor chuckles as he puts his hat on and closes up his bag.  “Mrs. Mulder, the next time you’re in town I hope you’ll stop by my office.  Don’t be surprised if I put you to work though.”

“Oh, I never finished school, Doctor Black.”

“You learn more by doing than you do from a book.  Mr. Mulder, you listen to your wife.”

“Doesn’t sound like I have much of a choice,” Mulder answers.

“Could I get you a cup of coffee before you go?” Katherine asks.

“I would appreciate that very much, thank you.”

Katherine tucks the sheet over Mulder’s chest.  “I’ll be back with some tea for you soon.”

Unconsciously, Mulder pouts his lips.  He feels a bit envious of the good doctor that he can share something with Katherine that he can’t.  He also doesn’t want to be left alone.  Katherine escorts the doctor out of the room, but Melvin slinks in after they leave and stands over the bed.

“I guess it’s a good thing you got yourself such a thick skull,” Melvin says.

“I always knew it would come in handy one day.”

“You got yourself a good woman, you know that?”

“It has occurred to me, yes.”

Melvin grunts.  “Best try harder not to muck it up.”

↭

Her experience in nursing school probably could have put her off of doctors for good, but she still finds herself in awe of their profession.  She knows that not all doctors are bad, just one in particular.  Doctor Black seems kind to her.  He compliments her coffee and asks about her experience with genuine interest.  He tells her a little about his background and then he thanks her for the hospitality, but he has to go.  She walks him to his carriage.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he tells her.  “I could always use an extra pair of hands if ever you’re available.  I know how ranch life is though and you probably have more than enough to handle here.”

“I would like that very much, but you’re right.  My duties here keep me busy.”

“I know a fine nurse when I see one though.”

“I actually wanted to be a doctor.”  She surprises herself when she blurts this out.  She’s only told one person in her life of that long-ago aspiration.

“Well, it’s a pity then you gave it up.”

“You don’t think it was just wishful thinking on my part?”

“A few decades ago I may have said yes.  I’m sure you’ve heard of Miss Elizabeth Blackwell though.”

“Of course.  I don’t think I would have even entertained the thought if not for a woman like her.”

“I’ve had the good fortune to meet her and I will admit that she helped to alter my perceptions a great deal.”

“You are in the minority, Sir.”

Doctor Black nods, but scoffs.  “When I started practicing, I was performing surgeries without anesthetic, and now chloroform’s as common as a housefly.  Five years ago we thought morphine was a cure-all until we learned there can be some dire consequences associated with the drug.  Medicine changes and so do times.”

“Thank you for coming out today, Doctor Black.”

“It’s been a pleasure making your acquaintance, Mrs. Mulder.”

Katherine returns to the kitchen to start a bone broth to boil and get the tea she promised Mulder.  She’s feeling lighter now, despite the day's events.  

“Don’t get up,” Katherine says to Mulder when he moves to sit up as she comes through the door.

“I thought you’d never come back,” he answers.  “Thought maybe I lost you to the good doctor.”

“I have to restore you to good health first.”

She knows he likes it when she teases him and sure enough, he smiles.  She helps him to sit up and arranges the pillows behind him so he can lean against the bedrail.  When he’s settled she sits down beside him.

“Let’s get some of this liniment on your shoulder,” she says.

He makes a face when she opens the tin.  The camphor smell is strong.  She removes the sling and holds his forearm with one hand as she rubs the liniment into his shoulder with the other.  She’s never seen him shirtless before or touched more than his hands or face.  His skin is softer than she expected it to be.  The hair on his chest is thin and sparse, far different from her former husband who resembled a bear more than a man.

Katherine shakes her head a little to clear her thoughts and then looks up at Mulder.  He’s watching her with a half-smile on his lips like he’s been reading her thoughts.  She averts her eyes and kneads a little deeper with the liniment.  He grunts softly and then sighs.

“Nurse’s training?” he asks.  “Why didn’t you mention that before?”

“It was a long time ago.  I guess it was never really relevant to any of our conversations.”

“Why didn’t you finish?”

“I married Jack.”  It’s the truth, but not the whole truth.  It’s as much as she’s willing to give him at this moment, though.

Katherine puts the cap back on the tin and puts the sling back into place.  She gives Mulder the tea and stands, wiping her hands clean on one of the rags left behind.

“I need to check on the broth and start cleaning things up,” she says.

“Wait.”  Mulder puts the tea down onto his bedside table.  “I don’t want to let this linger any more than it has.”

Katherine sits down again with a sigh and she nods.  

“I need you to tell me what had you so upset,” he says.  “I thought I was clear with my intentions for the land and unless you’re also hiding a degree in architecture or engineering and were planning to do the surveying yourself, I truly can’t work out what I said or did to cause such discord.”

“I suppose the fault in that is mine.”  She covers her right hand with her left in her lap to prevent herself from nervously twisting her ring.  “Initially when you said you had hired a surveyor, I assumed all the plans had been made and I felt excluded.”

“I told you you would be a part of the planning though, didn’t I?”

“I’m not really accustomed to men keeping their word.”  She bows her head slightly in contrition.  “And I know that’s unfair because you have kept your word to me about everything you said you would do.  And everything you said you wouldn’t do.”

“I have tried.”

“But, last night you said I would be involved, to an extent.  It was the qualifier that really upset me.  To an extent.”

“I only meant-”

“No, I think I know what you meant,” she interrupts.  “After staying up half the night stewing over it, I realize that you only meant that there are obviously going to be certain things I won’t have a say in.  The horses, for example.  Your new corral, the stables.”

Mulder nods.

“I have gone from being allowed to have an opinion about nothing to being asked how I think and how I feel and I am trying to trust it’s not all just some cruel joke God is playing on me.”

“I don’t believe he would do such a thing.  Not to you.”

“Yes, well.  You have no idea  what He’s already handed down to me.”

“Kate…”

“I need to go clean up.”

She moves to stand, but Mulder puts his hand over hers.  She doesn’t flinch this time or pull away.  He rubs his thumbs over her knuckles for a bit and then he moves his hand to her face.  She tips her head into his hand without a second thought and nothing has ever felt as right as his hand on her cheek.

“You have to come to me,” he says.  “I can’t come to you.”

“Hm?”

He slides his hand to the back of her head and presses gently at her neck.  She leans closer to him and puts her hand on his chest as she kisses him.  She feels him smile before he brings his hand to her shoulder and then down her arm.  She rests her forehead against his with her eyes closed.

“Will you read to me when you come back?” he asks.  “I’ve been thinking about how the animals got their colors all day and I don’t think I can go another night without knowing.”

She laughs and then kisses him again.

[intubatedangel]

Cold Snap: Chapter 7

Story Index - All my stories in one place.

Chapter 1 |  Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |  Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

***

As soon as the camera angle changed, presumably someone in the news control room had realised they were showing a possibly dead woman under intensive CPR and had cut away, Anna and Carl started to get prepared. Carl called out for his team to join him in Trauma 4, the other rooms already claimed by those doctors who were scheduled for today. There was fewer of them than normal, a few of the nurses already occupied with minor injuries or the other trauma rooms. Zainab was also occupied by the cubicles, sheer practicality making her more useful with the minor injuries that don't need a fully qualified emergency doctor to double-check.

Anna and Carl were joined by Kirstie, Roger, and Trish. It would be enough for now; they could also call for additional help if they needed it when their patient arrived. Carl looked at them, figuring out a plan.

"We all saw what we're dealing with. Cold water drowning, clearly no pulse. Don't expect it to be any different when they arrive here. Our priorities are maintaining artificial circulation and oxygenation while we warm her up. We need to go fast, but careful. The last thing we need is to trigger rewarming collapse. Kirstie, I want you get in touch with Cardio-thoracics and with Nephrology, I want an ECMO or a dialysis machine, both can heat her blood directly, so either will do. We'll also need warmed saline, a lot of it Roger, I want to get a warmed gastric lavage going as soon as we can and depending on her temperature, we may need to consider a thoracic lavage too."

Anna cringed slightly at that. A thoracic lavage would involve sticking tube through their patient’s chest wall. It was brutal, but effective. Carl was continuing.

"Anna, Trish, get the temperature vest set up too, warm her from inside and out. Remember everyone, we have time. We do not give up until she is warm, understood?" The team all nods. "Ok, let’s get ready people." Carl finished, the others all going about their tasks. Trish went to get the temperature vest from Trauma 1, giving Anna a few moments alone with Carl.

"You sound confident." Anna told him as they stepped out of the way of the others.

He shrugged. "We have every reason to be. We have the equipment, the skills, and the circumstances favour us. Cold water drowning discovered almost instantly? It's not a guarantee, but in our line of work? It's the best damn odds we could ask for." He looked at her seeing her far off gaze. "Are you doing ok?" He asked.

She nodded slowly, then looked back at him, with a sharper nod. "Yeah. Just doing what you said." Her voice went quieter, just between the two of them. "Accepting it. Using it."

Carl nodded slowly. "Ok. Let me know if it gets too much. You can take a step back if you need to." He told her, keeping his own voice quiet.

Anna slipped her hand into his and they gave a mutual squeeze. Then, Trish came into the room with the bulky vest and Anna went to help her. They laid it on the trauma bed, spread open, ready and waiting for them. To Anna it looked inviting, and she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to be wrapped up in it. At this point she would normally feel ashamed and try to bury the thought. This time, she didn't try to eradicate it. Instead, she filed it away. Something to think about later, maybe...even do later. She thought back to her unit on psychology during nursing school. Using rewards to encourage behaviour. If they succeeded, she would ask Carl if he could 'tinker' with one over the rest of the weekend, they were his experiment after all, maybe they could be her reward.

She shook her head, dispelling the fantasy and disguising the small smile on her face, as if she were trying to shake a stray lock of hair out of her eyes while she was setting the control panel on the pump unit, which they had hooked to the end of the bed. The had just finished arranging the hoses so they wouldn't be an obstruction when a receptionist stuck her head into the trauma room.

"We just got a 2-minute warning on the casualty." She announced.

"Thanks" Carl dismissed her, looking to the rest of his team. Kirstie was still on the phone in the corner, and she shrugged at Carl's questioning look. "Keep trying, everyone else, let's get out front."

* * *

Lucy kept on rocking her body weight forward and backward, keeping her shoulders and elbows locked, hands planted between Shona's pale breasts. Each time she leant forward, her hands pressed down the drowned young woman’s sternum 2 inches, squeezing Shona's stopped heart, pushing blood out of it and around her body. When Lucy rocked backwards, Shona's ribs sprang back also, releasing the pressure on her heart and allowing it to refill with blood.

Lucy did this over and over and over again, keeping the blood flowing. Keeping hope alive.

She'd heard the driver call out the minute warning. She was aware of Dave hooking things to the gurney and moving around her. She was also aware of the burning in her arms, the lead weight feeling of lactic acid build up. It was a long, excruciating minute. But Lucy never faltered. Shona's ribs bent inwards 100 times in that minute. Each perfect compression forced her abdomen to roll and her shoulders to pop. Her feet swayed and her head bobbed as the force of the compressions translated through her body. It was brutal, what her body was enduring. But that brutality was the only chance she had.

Lucy felt the entire ambulance tilt as it swung into the hospital grounds, felt the inertia tugging her as the brakes squealed and brought the ambulance to a stop. She ignored it all, maintaining her compressions until she saw the blur out the corner of her eye as Anna mounted the gurney, straddling Shona's unresponsive body. Just like they had done two days ago, and so many times before, Anna gave a short countdown before Lucy drew back her hands, Anna planted her own, and Shona's chest continued to be compressed.

The gurney was pulled from the back of the ambulance, Dave squeezing the Ambu-bag regularly, and was rushed towards the emergency entrance. Lucy let them go. She dropped onto the bench, flexing her aching fingers and breathing deeply to pay off the oxygen debt. She shook her arms out, then looked at the man beside her. Jones was still wrapped tightly in the blanket and was staring out after the gurney that had already disappeared around a corner and vanished from sight.

"Come on Jones, you need to get to checked over." She told him, dragging herself to her feet. She helped him from the back of the ambulance, despite the exhaustion she was feeling, and led him toward the entrance. An observer would have struggled to tell which was helping the other, and Lucy was grateful to the porter who ran over with a wheelchair, easing Jones into it before she pushed him into the busy triage area, leaning heavily on the handles herself.

* * *

 The wind had eased to a stiff breeze, though it still cut straight through you, in the hour since Shona had fatefully boarded the now sunk Beetle. Yet, none of the team that had assembled outside the sliding door was shivering. Their collective adrenaline rush banished the cold. There was a tension, but it was that invigorating kind of tension, rather than a panic fuelled one. They knew they were up to the task. Their determination was written all over their faces. So, they stood, filled with an anticipation that grew in intensity as the sirens of the ambulance grew louder. Like the legendary warrior, calmly waiting to enter an arena, their own kind of battle was about to begin, and they radiated the same serenity. The same clarity of purpose. The same capacity to spring into action at a moment’s notice.

The siren reached a crescendo, with an accompaniment of squealing tires, as the ambulance pulled into the emergency bay. Anna waited a beat, then stepped forward, giving Roger and Trish just enough time to pull open the rear doors of the ambulance, before she planted her foot on the step, lined herself up, and vaulted onto the gurney. Her knees made the metallic blanket crinkle as she landed softly and shuffled her knees forward. She gave the countdown, and as soon as Lucy's hands left the patients sternum, Anna snapped hers into position.

Even through her blue gloves, Anna could feel just how cold the young woman was. Her ghostly pale skin seemed to pull the warmth out of Anna's hands in an instant. It did not deter the nurse. She began her initial round of compressions. The first press was firm and harsh, to gauge the resistance of her patient’s chest, then those that followed were perfectly judged, pushing in the ideal two inches and drawing back fully in under a second. The gurney moving beneath her had no effect on Anna. She was in her zone. This, this was what she was born to do, and nothing, internal or external, could disturb her rhythm as she put all her effort into delivering the best chest compressions she could to the young woman who lay pulseless between her legs.

As she settled into her task, she became more aware of what was going on around her. She heard the whistling of the flatlined monitor, and she heard Carl say something loudly. He was clearly asking for details, as Anna began to hear the response from the paramedic who was pushing the gurney with one hand, while he squeezed the Ambu-bag that was connected to a breathing tube with the other.

"This is Shona. Trapped and immersed in near freezing water. Immersion resulted in asphyxiation via drowning. Due to the water temperature she's profoundly hypothermic, skin temperature of just 23C. She's been in respiratory and cardiac arrest for between 18 and 25 minutes, confirmed asystole for 5 of those, but likely much longer.  Resuscitation attempts started 14 minutes ago, with no response. She also has a closed fracture to her left tibia. We cleared her lungs and intubated 8 minutes ago, applied chemical heat packs and warmed saline as much as we could. Throughout she's had a palpable pulse with compressions, so major internal bleeding is unlikely."

Carl nodded through the report, and Anna knew he was taking in everything, filing it away in his mind, able to recall every detail at a moment’s notice, to the point that the chart Roger was making notes on would be for later doctors, not for the ER team. At the edges of her vision Anna saw black tarmac turn into the marble effect veneered flooring that ran through the ER and almost every other hospital, school and government building in the western world. During those moments Carl was processing what he had been told, and then he began to give orders.

"Right, let's carry on as planned. Get her into Trauma 4 and get her in the TMV. I want a central line in addition to those bilateral IVs, and I want wide bore access in one of her legs, ready for extracorporeal warming. Let's get an NG tube inserted too, bi-directional for the gastric lavage. Let's get a core temp before we consider surgical intervention though." Carl briefly held his fingers against Shona's femoral pulse point, his wrist resting against Anna's calf. "Good pulse with compressions Anna, keep it up, but let's also get a Lucas ready, this could be a long one people!" He said, a tone to his voice that instilled confidence and re-doubled their determination.

They were going to get their patient back. Shona, Anna reminded herself, looking at the girl beneath her, forcing her name into the front of her mind.  She had a cute face, even with pale skin and blue lips, that much was clear. The tape holding the ET tube also pulled at the corner of her mouth, forming a grimace, as though she could feel each brutal compression that Anna delivered.  Not that Anna was deterred. She was going to do everything she could to get Shona back. To see those lips pink instead of blue. Smiling instead of a forced grimace. She wasn't alone in those thoughts. The whole team was feeling the same way as they guided the gurney into the Trauma Wing and crashed through the doors into Trauma 4.

[calliecat93]

When I started TNG, the biggest curiosity I had was why Dr. Pulaski was so hated. I heard plenty about why, but at the same time I wanted to see for myself and be able to draw my own conclusions. Well now that I’ve finished S2, I think that I can safely state my opinion and the reasons why she had such a bad reception.

My general opinion is… Pulaski’s fine, but she got an bad start. She’s a very competent doctor who is devoted to her duty. She’s a bit of a smartass, but otherwise a friendly enough person. She’s a VERY much based off a certain CMO form a certain other Star Trek show that came out before this one, but we’ll get to that later. Pulaski honestly had a lot working against her and she just wasn’t able to get over them despite her actress Diana Muldaur (who played Miranda Jones in TOS) doing an excelent acting job. It ultimately ended with Pulaski being dropped all together and Crusher returning in Season 3.

While I understand the hate against Pulaski and can’t say that it’s unwarranted to an extent, I think that a lot of it that I saw was overblown. Now if people disliked the character, that’s fine. Everyone has different tastes and reasons for what they like and dislike and should be free to have and express those thoughts. But a lot of the issues with her that I had were taken care of very early on and she became much better by the end of her tenure. So why do I believe that Pulaski ultimately failed? Well I’ve come up with three explanations based off my own observations from watching the show and what I got from fandom consensus. Now this is all my opinion based on those observations and is not objective fact whatsoever, so take this with a grain of salt. So I believe the reasons that Pulaski failed are:

#1. She Is Essentially a Female Dr. McCoy… Sort Of: Pulaski was clearly heavily based on Dr. McCoy from TOS. She’s an middle-aged, somewhat world-weary doctor. She’s stubborn, grumpy, and doesn’t put up with anyone’s crap. She’s witty and always ready with a biting comment. She has the dedication to her job. She has the bantery relationship with the Science Officer, which we’ll go into that here soon. She is a doctor before she is an officer and that will always be her top priority, even at great risk to herself. She has a zero tolerance towards authority and isn’t afraid to talk back to anyone no matter how much they outrank her. She even outright has a hatred of teleporters that McCoy had. The parallels are all there. It may be why I’m a bit more lenient on her since McCoy is very much my favorite character in TOS and so far all of ST. But I think it is very much the root of the problem.

While Pulaski has several of McCoy’s traits, I think the writers really only understood McCoy on a surface level. They forget to include his compassion, his empathy, his humanism, his loyalty to the captain even when he opposes his actions, all of the things that make McCoy… well, McCoy. I don’t even know if the pacifism is there. Also McCoy had over 70 episodes of TOS and at that point five films (Undiscovered Country hadn’t been made yet). Pulaski had about 20 episodes and her relevance depended on the episode. McCoy had that as well, but he also had more material so we had FAR more time to get to know him. Pulaski didn’t get to have the time to gain that depth or care from the audience. Like… can I imagine Pulaski hypoing someone so that she can be tortured in their stead and it have the same impact that The Empath did? Can I see her counseling and assuring Picard if he’s having doubts like McCoy did for Kirk in The Ultimate Computer (okay tbf that would be Troi’s job but still)? Could I imagine any of the main cast being crushed about Pulaski dying of a terminal illness and choosing to stay on essentially a doomed spaceship with someone she just met and feel as gutted as I did in For the World is Hollow…? Honestly… given time maybe but in the end no. Now could I imagine McCoy risking getting an aging illness to possibly cure a child and others of it ala Unnatural Selection? Yes, albiet I think he’d be smart enough to bring protective equipment with him to be safe. Could I imagine McCoy telling someone like Data they’d be wrong to sit by a woman giving birth because he wasn’t human ala The Child? Hell no. Maybe he would if he was worried it would cause potential distress the one giving birth, but it sure as hell wouldn’t be because they’re an android. But I could imagine that someone who just saw McCoy as ‘grumpy doctor with a bad bedside manner who says witty lines and argues with the logical Vulcan character’ would get that interpretation. Thus why I think that Pulaski may have ended up how she did.

Now mind you I do think it IS a double standard to excuse McCoy’s dickish momemts and flaws, but demonize Pulaski for her’s. It’s like saying a man can be that way because it’s just expected of them and they can be forgiven, but a woman doing so or being assertice is wrong and they are horrible and unforgivable for having these traits or having flaws even if they correct them. That being said I do think that it’s more than that and it all comes down to the fact that TOS and TNG are two different shows with different character dynamics and ways of doing things. TOS mainly followed a Triumvirate (for the most part but that’s a different post entirely), TNG is much more of an ensemble. Pulaski didn’t have a Kirk nor a Spock to bounce off of or either let her traits shine or be kept in check like McCoy did nor did she really develop any unique relations for herself aside from maybe with Troi. We hear about her empathy and humanitarianism, but we don’t really see it on-screen like we did with McCoy. She has his surface level traits, not the deeper ones that the Triumvirate dynamic along his doctor position allowed him to showcase. In other words, Pulaski was put in a series that wasn’t designed for her while McCoy was exactly where he needed to be in order to thrive. It really speaks to how much the TNG writers didn’t really seem to get McCoy or why and how his character worked, which is strange since they got him right when he showed up in the series premiere. But maybe that was due to DeForest Kelley and him absolutely knowing the character he’d played for so long. But yeah they tried to replicate McCoy, and it just didn’t work with TNG’s already established character dynamics nor did they fully get the character that they were trying to recreate. If I want McCoy, I’ll go watch TOS or AOS. I didn’t need Pulaski for that.

#2. Data and Misconstrued Character Dynamics; This is in relation to the first reason and REALLY shows how much the writers didn’t think the dynamics through. We all know how much Spock and McCoy bantered. How they are opposite ends of the spectrum and how their perspective points helped Kirk in making his decisions. Well clealry they wanted to re-create that with Pulaski and Data. Makes sense, Pulaski represents the humanism and Data the logical. But there’s one big, BIG problem with that: Data is NOT Spock. A lot fo people have pointed this out, but here’s the thing about Spock. Despite whatever he may have said, Spock DID have emotions. He kept them suppressed due to the issues in his upbringing and that wasn’t necessarily healthy, but he did have them. And despite speaking in a calm manner, he was also an utter sass bucket, could be rude, and had no issue putting down humanity if he had a point to make. He and McCoy were very much equal in their bantering and yes maybe McCoy could go too far with his insults, but there was always an equal balance and Spock was also perfectly capable of starting/escalating their spats. There were also plenty of moments to show that in spite of it, they were still friends and cared a great deal about each other with probably the best examples of this being The Immunity Syndrome, Bread and Circuses, The Empath, and plenty of moments in others like Miri and For the World is Hollow… Those who have been following me know how much I love the Spock/McCoy dynamic and I could go all day, but the point is it’s a complex relationship that may seem like disdain on the outside, but is so much more when you examine it up close.

Data however? Data is intelligent and the Science Officer with a calm demeanor, but that’s about where the similarity between him and Spock ends. Data is an android. I do not believe that he is emotionless, he just has a different wiring that causes him to feel things differently. He’s never shown disdain towards humanity at least from what I’ve observed thus far. If anything, he actively seeks to understand it and emotions more. He actively has hobbies like Sherlock Holmes. He tries things like sneezing and growing a beard in an effort to understand more. Data is more or less a child with a child-like understanding of things and he doesn’t really understand social cues or things like humor, but he DOES have emotions and feelings. There’s too much on-screen evidence to say otherwise. He just has his own way of processing it. This is what makes Pulaski look so bad. When she calls Data a machine, says he can’t understand, and even purposefully mispronounces his name, she comes across as an outright bully. She is essentially bullying a neurodivergent child. Do I need to explain why that’s awful? Data, while by no means a doormat, isn’t the type to sass back or make any biting comments back like Spock would. There is no balance. There is no equal footing. There are not enough positive interactions outside the banter to show that there is something deeper there at the end of the day like Spock and McCoy did. Heck you can even compare how Pulaski and McCoy talk to Data via McCoy’s guest appearance in Encounter at Farpoint. He DOES make a quip about Vulcans when talking to Data and when Data points out he’s an android not a Vulcan, McCoy mumbles “Just as bad.” But immediately after he gives Data genuine heartfelt advice on treating the Enterprise with care. It’s clear that ultimately it’s McCoy being his usual grumpy self who’d be acting the same way towards anyone else and is otherwise perfectly civil and encouraging to Data. We’ve known him long enough to know this. Pulaski didn’t have that luxury, coming off as condescending towards Data at best and considering that she’s a doctor, it looks especially bad.

Now to be fair this only lasts for about four episodes. Pulaski does start catching herself by her second episode, and stops completely after Unnatural Selection when Data helps her and stays with her after she gets the aging virus. After that she’s MUCH moe civil to him, even defending his choice going against the Prime Directive in Pen Pals and was at his retirement party in The Measure of a Man. But clearly the damage had been done. Data is a very beloved character and by Oulaski’s intro had already been established and well-liked character. Data was treated equally and was valued as far more than just an android among the rest of the crew, Crusher included, so Pulaski coming in a season later and acting that way also didn’t help. The writers did not think through why Spock and McCoy worked and how to try figure out a unique dynamic for Pulaski and Data. Instead they just tried to copy TOS, and it utterly failed. It ruined Pulaski’s chances before she could even really start running. But I do believe that she could have rebounded and as I said, she DID get past it. She did relapse some at the end of the season in Peak Performance to the point I wanna say that maybe it chronologically happened earlier in the season, but even then she felt realized her screw up and apologized. It’s still an improvement from early on. But things just weren’t meant to be, which leads is to…

#3. She Only Lasted One Season/She Replaced Dr. Crusher: I believe that the biggest thing that worked against Pulaski is simple: she was cut after Season 2. Pulaski was created when Gates MacFadden left the show. I’ve seen conflicting reasons as to why, but regardless she left and a CMO was needed. IDK how popular Crusher was, but I had really enjoyed her. She was essentially the mom of the ship which added something different from TOS (wel McCoy was also the mom lets be real XD), had a son onboard which also added something new, was very much capable and devoted to her job, and was a badass when she got to use a phaser. Her being written out sucked, but that’s not necessarily a reason to hate Pulaski. But as I highlighted above, she just didn’t work. They tried to make McCoy, but without the dynamics and depth that let McCoy flourish. TNG is not TOS. Whenever TNG tried replicating TOS like with The Naked Now? It blew up in their faces. The key to a spinoff or reboot is to keep certain themes and tone alive, but to not just replicate what came before. TNG flourished when it began to find it’s own footing, and ultimately lasted four seasons longer than it’s predecessor due to it.

I genuinely believe that Pulaski COULD have developed into her own character and could have found her place the same way that McCoy did. But alas that didn’t happen. People wanted Crusher back, so they managed to get MacFadden to return and thus Crusher was put back in her rightful place. Because of it, Pulaski was just forgotten about. She didn’t get the chance to form her own character. She didn’t the chance to develop further and leave her early days behind. Why? Because she simply wasn’t given the opprotunity to do so. I can’t say it was the wrong choice, but it’s an utter shame because I do believe that Pulaski was on her way to improving. But it was too late. Her bad start with Data, her character not working in the TNG dynamic, and her replacing an already perfectly likeable character who did fit the dynamics all amounted to the character’s abrupt end. And because she didn’t get the chance to develop further and find her own path, her bad reputation has stuck to this very day.

In the end, the whole thing just feels like a waste. Pulaski had potential, but it just didn’t work in the end. I can’t say that I hate her. If anything, I feel bad for her. The writers failed her at the end of the day and by the time they tried correcting their errors, the audience had already made their judgement. It may have been for the best to just drop her and bring Crusher back, but I also hate seeing character potential just so utterly wasted. I hope that if any side material used Pulaski, they were able to find a much better direction for her. I can’t say that I love Pulaski. In a more TOS-like setting maybe she’d have worked better. But in the end I think that Pulaski was a decent character who just had too much working against her and they caused her to crash and burn. Just an unfortunate case all in all.

(Image Source)

[hopelikethemoon]

The Guilty (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: The Guilty Rating: PG-13 Length: 3100 Warnings: Mild Angst. Medical Triggers ( loss of consciousness and discussion about pre-eclampsia, etc.) Notes: You can find the Maybe Today, Maybe Forever Timeline here. Set in March 1997. Part two in the “big angst arc”. There’s a POV switch midway through for obvious reasons. Summary: Reader follows her gut. 

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At noon you made your way down to the records room where Lieutenant Ableman had put the intern. Javier had been hesitant about you asking Monica what she knew about the rumor, but… you had to know. If the rumor was loud enough to make its way to the dean’s office, then it was loud enough for the students to be fully aware of it. 

“You know,” You started, leaning against the doorframe as you watched Monica sort through a stack of files and put each one into the appropriate banker boxes. “I had a sweet gig when I was sixteen helping process evidence at my town’s tiny ass police department.” 

Monica startled a little, dropping the folder she was holding. “Shit! Hey! How long have you been there?”

“Couple minutes.” You laughed. “Just thinking.”

“How have you’ve been?” Monica asked with a hesitant smile. “You’re due soon, right?”

You shrugged a shoulder as you rested your hand on your stomach, “Still got a few months to go.” You walked further into the record’s room, leaning down to pick up a stray file that had fallen. “How are your classes going?”

“I’m in this finite math class that is killing me.” Monica answered, making a face. “I was told it would be easier, but… C means complete, right?”

You chuckled, “I’ve heard that somewhere.” You moved to sit down, feeling the slightest inertia from bending over. That was happening far too often lately. “I’ve heard a lot of things lately.”

“Oh?”

You inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying to ignore the sensation of being able to feel the world spinning around you. “A couple weeks ago I heard about this crazy rumor at the university.”

“What was it?” Monica stared at you, looking a little nervous.

“Oh, just that Javier was cheating on me with a student, which…” You laughed humorlessly. “Is hilarious, because I have that man by the balls.” 

“I—.” Monica shook her head. “I haven’t heard anything about that. I think the whole class knows that Javier loves you. I mean his office is practically a shrine to you.”

“I know.”

Monica swallowed thickly. “I should… I have a lot to finish before my night classes.”

You weren’t about the let up, “Why are you so nervous, Monica?”

“I’m not nervous.” She shot back too quickly. “Look, I’m really sorry about this rumor or whatever… I’m sure it’ll blow over.”

“Or Javier will lose his job.” You rubbed at the center of your forehead, trying to soothe the throbbing headache forming there. “I mean, a rumor like that could destroy someone’s career.”

Monica put the cardboard lid on the banker box with a little more force than necessary. “I really… I haven’t heard anything.” She didn’t meet your eyes. 

“Look, you’re a nice kid Monica…” You offered her a small smile. “I’m not accusing you. I just want to know what you know. And I think you know more than you’re telling me.”

You started to stand back up, fingers gripping at the filing cabinet beside you for support. Shit. 

Your pulse was throbbing in your ears. You could feel it in your throat, down your arms. 

Fuck.

“Monica…”

“Hey. Hey.” She grabbed your arm to support you. “I’m here.”

You clenched your eyes closed, trying to ignore the way that the world was closing in on you. Everything felt like it was in a tunnel. Voices — distant and kind of tinny sounding. Your lips felt numb, your words slurred and mouth full of cotton. It felt like pins and needles up and down your body. 

“Call Javi.” You managed to think or maybe say… just before everything stopped. 

 ——

 Everything stopped the moment Javier got the call. He wasn’t even entirely certain how he ended up at the hospital — the period between the phone call and arriving at the hospital was a blur. He vaguely remembered swearing at a red light for lasting too long — he definitely went through it. 

“Mr. Peña, right this way.” A nurse said as she guided him through the emergency room, back to her room. “The doctor will be with you both shortly.” 

Javier’s heart clenched as he looked at the hospital bed, meeting her eyes. She looked awful. They had her hooked up to oxygen and she had an IV. “Hey baby.” 

“Hi, Javi.” She said quietly, his voice half of what it usually was. 

His gaze flickered to the woman sitting beside her bed. Monica. She jumped up quickly, gesturing to the chair she’d been sitting in. “Here, Professor Peña… I’m so…” She looked between the two of them. “I’ll just go.” 

“I have questions.” Javier said, his jaw clenched tight. “Do you mind waiting in the waiting room?”

Monica clasped her hands together. “Of course… Yeah.” She looked towards the hospital bed. “I’m so… I’m so sorry.” 

“What are you—”

“Just let her go, Javi.” She whispered, gesturing for Monica to leave. 

“What the hell is going on?” Javier questioned, his hands on his hips. Before he grabbed the chair and pulled it closer to her bedside. “Baby… you gave me a fucking heartattack.” 

“You and me both.” She breathed out, reaching out for his hand. “I was terrified.” 

Javier squeezed her hand tightly, lifting it to his lips. “Have the doctors talked to you?”

“A little.” She sank back against the bed. “They took some blood.” She said, lifting her arm to show off the bandage. “I guess they need to check kidney and liver function.” 

Javier stood up, leaning over the bed to press a kiss to her forehead. “It’s your blood pressure, isn’t it?” He questioned, brushing his knuckles against her cheek. “Baby.” 

“Yeah.” She grimaced a little. “I’m actually fortunate I was down in records with Monica. She… saved me.” She swallowed thickly. “She knows something. I don’t know what, but… that girl is guilty.” 

“I told you not to.” Javier shook his head, trying to keep his voice steady. “You’re supposed to be keeping your stress levels low. And what? You decided to start questioning my students about this bullshit rumor and now you’re in the fucking hospital.” 

“Javier.” She shot him a look. “I passed out. It happens.” 

Javier dragged his fingers through his hair, taking a step away from the bed and turning his back on her. He was so fucking pissed and he didn’t know who to be pissed out. He couldn’t be pissed at her — even though she’d done exactly what he had told her not to do. He wanted to be pissed at Monica if she was behind the fucking rumor. He’d been so lenient with her — late work, missed classes… 

His fingers curled into fists at his side and he shook his head slowly. He so fucking angry. 

“Javi.” She whispered. “Come here.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“I’m the one in the hospital bed, I get to call the shots. Come here.” 

Javier’s shoulders sank as he turned around to face her. “I thought I was going to lose you.” 

“You didn’t.” 

“I get a call that you’re in the hospital unconscious and you don’t think I’m going to lose my mind, baby?” He dragged a hand over his face and looked away. “I can’t fucking lose you. I can’t.” 

“You’re not going to lose me.” 

Javier paced the short distance he could in the room. “What the fuck does she know?” He questioned, stopping at the foot of the bed. “Is she the one spreading the rumors? I swear to God if it is—”

The door opened slowly and the doctor stepped inside. “Bad time?”

She sat up in bed and shook her head slowly. “My partner’s under a lot of stress at work.”

“Stress that seems to be rubbing off on you,” The doctor’s brows raised suggestively. “I’m Dr. Smith,” She offered, shaking both of their hands. “If you’d like to sit Mr. Peña we can talk about what happened and how we can prevent this from getting worse.”

“Of course.” Javier mumbled, ducking his head as he moved to sit back down in the chair beside her bed. He reached for her hand, interlacing their fingers. “Is she going home today?”

“She is.” Dr. Smith smiled warmly. “With a number of changes, however. Fetal heartbeat is strong, I’m not concerned about the baby's health right now. Mom’s health is my primary concern. You came in here with a blood pressure that was 150/90. That’s a dangerous level for anyone, but especially while pregnant.” 

“So, what do we do?” Javier questioned.

“A whole lot of nothing.” Dr. Smith answered with a levity-offering chuckle. “You’re going to have to stay at home. I’m prescribing you to remain on bed rest for the remainder of your pregnancy.”

“Are you fucking serious?” She grumbled, sinking back against the pillows. 

“Yes. I know it’s inconvenient, but it’s necessary. If your blood pressure remains high, you’re at much higher risk for strokes, seizures, and placental abruption. The last thing we want to do is have to induce labor early. Everything looks great with baby, it’s just you we’re worried about right now.”

“When will we get the results back from the tests? You took blood, right?” Javier questioned.

“In a few hours. We’re just going to keep her for observation for a few more hours. Get that blood pressure down. You’ll be home tonight.” Dr. Smith answered, offering both of them a small smile. “Do you have any questions?”

“Will the delivery be more difficult?” She questioned, rubbing her stomach. “I didn’t have any problems with Josie.” 

“I’m not going to rule that out,” The doctor explained. “Your obstetrician will be best able to answer that. Where did you deliver?”

“In Colombia.” She answered. “But I didn’t have any issues like this and that… was stressful.” 

Javier scraped his teeth over his bottom lip as he looked between the doctor and her. The mere mention of Colombia had his own blood pressure spiking. This was all his fault. She was laying in a hospital bed, hooked up to wires all because of him.

“I need to…” Javier drew in a shaky breath. “Shit. Josie... “ He raked his hand over his face as he stood up suddenly. “Daycare. I need to call Steve.”

“Are you alright, Mr. Peña?”

It was all his fault. 

“I need to call someone to pick up our daughter.” Javier looked towards her then. God, she looked so weak. So pale. 

The doctor said something to him as he left the hospital room, but he was gone before he could make it out. He headed down the corridor, retracing the path the nurse had led him along, heading out the double doors that led to the waiting room.

He headed for the payphone, fishing a couple quarters out of his pocket. 

Steve offered to pick her up and bring her to the hospital. They both figured Josie might make her mother feel a little better. She was a cuddle monster whenever she knew someone wasn’t feeling well. 

It was his fault she wasn’t feeling well. 

He was the stupid fucking selfish idiot who had wanted another try. He was the one that had wanted another kid to make up for all of the shit he missed out on in Colombia. 

Javier slammed the phone back into the cradle before bringing his fist down against the top of the box. He was so fucking angry at himself. They had Josie — why couldn’t she be enough for him? Why had he wanted to have another child? To put her at risk. 

And she was at risk. 

“Professor Peña?”

He tensed, slowly turning to look at Monica. “Why are you still here?”

“She asked… I can go?”

“Don’t you have classes?”

Monica swallowed thickly and lowered her gaze to the ground. “I feel awful about what happened. She just… she was asking me about the rumors and…” She shook her head. “I didn’t know she was having trouble with her pregnancy. I didn’t know.”

Javier narrowed his eyes. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” She looked up then. “I didn’t… mean to. But it was so much money and…”

“What?”

Monica glanced over her shoulder warily. “After work one day. The internship.” She gulped a little, looking like she was actually about to cry. “He had a badge.”

His jaw rocked as he stared her down. “Who had a badge?”

“Someone with the Drug Enforcement Administration.” Her cheeks flushed with shame and she stared at the ground. “I’m so sorry. But it was so much money and I…” 

It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice on him. 

The motherfucking DEA?

“What the fuck did they tell you to do?”

Monica took a step back, “To start the rumor.” 

“Why?” Javier questioned, fingers clenched at his sides. 

“I don’t know.” Monica admitted. “It was ten thousand dollars. You have no idea how much I needed it… I couldn’t say ‘no’.”

He took a step backwards. 

The article. It all had to do with that goddamn article. His idea. 

“I need…” Javier bit down on the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood. “I need to go sit with her. I need to…” He flexed his jaw, turning away then. “I can’t fucking do this right now.” He didn’t even look back at her, he headed straight back into the emergency room, back to her room, back to her bedside. 

She was asleep. Whatever they’d given her to help calm down had clearly knocked her out. She needed the rest. He knew she hadn’t been sleeping well — not since the start of the rumor. Not since he gave her those five fucking envelopes. 

All of it. All of this. 

It was all his fault. 

There was a clock on the wall that was ticking. Each second growing louder. 

This was his punishment. 

All those people. The people he failed. People who died. The people he wasn’t able to save. 

“Javi.” She whispered beside him, reaching out to touch his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Just rest, baby.” He pleaded quietly. 

“You look like you need to be admitted too.” She smiled at him. “Babe, I’m fine. My blood pressure is just high. I fainted. I’ll be home in a few hours.”

“But what if you’re not fine? What if this…” He clenched his jaw and shook his head. 

“And what if you got shot in Colombia? Don’t treat me like a fucking flower over ‘what ifs’, Javier.” She pulled her hand away from his face and rubbed at her forehead. “You know how much I hate being treated like an invalid.” 

“I don’t want to do this right now.” Javier shook his head. “I want to get you home and then… we can talk about everything. What we’re going to do…” 

“It was Monica wasn’t it? My gut was right, wasn’t it?”

Javier stared at her, before nodding his head slowly. “Yeah.” He laughed bitterly. “It wasn’t just Monica… it was the fucking DEA.”

Something beeped on one of her monitors.

“Just my pulse. It slipped off my finger.” She assured him, readjusting the clip on her forefinger. “What do you mean it was the DEA?”

“You need to relax, baby.” Javier reached out and rested his hand on her stomach, his other reaching for her hand. “We can talk about this at home. When you’re not… hooked up to fucking wires.” He sat back and pressed the heel of his palm against his forehead. “This is fucking bullshit.” 

“Javi.” 

“We’re not doing this.” He stood up, hands on his hips. “I’m not losing you.” 

She held her hand out, “Come back here. You have to keep your shit together for Josie, Javier. You can’t be freaking out like this.” 

“It’s all my fault.” Javier let the words slip out of his mouth.

There was a knock on the door before it opened to reveal Dr. Smith on the other side again. “Good news.” She said with a hesitant smile. “Your organs look good, but we are still concerned with your blood pressure. We can bring it down if you keep your stress levels down—” She gave Javier a pointed look. He knew he was red in the face, still fuming from everything. “I’m going to send you home with a prescription for anticonvulsants.” 

“What does that do?” Javier questioned.

“It’ll stave off seizures. She hasn’t had one yet, that we know of. But with her blood pressure range, it's potential. They help prevent them. But rest will be best.” The doctor looked towards her bed then. “We can get a letter sent to your office.”

“I’ll handle it.” She promised. “Or Javi will. Whoever. They’ll understand.” She laughed bitterly. “I’m a walking worker’s comp claim.” 

“And the baby’s fine?”

The doctor nodded. “Both of them should be fine if her environment is kept calm.” 

“We’ve been going through a lot.” Javier admitted, staring at the floor. 

“We just moved.” She explained. “And some stuff from our past has been giving us issues. It’s nothing that we can’t resolve.”

“After you give birth.” The doctor reminded her. “I’ll start the discharge process within the hour. Good luck.” 

“I’m so sorry, baby.”

“Don’t blame yourself.” She sank back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. “Don’t lash out at her.”

“Who?”

“Monica. She’s just a kid, Javi.” 

Javier sighed heavily. “I wanna fucking punch a wall.” 

“Try not to make a mess.” She quipped dryly. “And I can’t exactly help you hide the body like this.” 

“You’re going to bed when we get home.”

She made a face. “Sounds like the bed is going to be my new home.” She tilted her head to grin at him, wiggling her brows. “Sounds like fun, yeah?”

Javier glared back at her. “How can you make jokes?”

“Because if I don’t I’m going to fucking lose my shit.” She shot back. “I was so scared.” 

“I know, baby.” He took her hand into his and leaned down to kiss each knuckle. “I’ve got you though, okay? I’m going to take care of you and Josie and the baby.” 

“Bean.” 

“What?”

“You called her bean. Remember?” 

Javier cracked a small smile. “It was little legume, I believe.”

She grinned at him, “We’re going to be okay, Javi. I promise you.”

“That’s just the medicine talking.” He leaned down and cupped her cheek, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “Steve should be here with Josie soon… then the three of us can go home.” 

“That sounds nice.” Her lashes fluttered. “I need a nap.”

“Yeah you do.” He laughed softly, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone. He hated seeing her like this. Weak. Exhausted. Not her typical fiery self. 

She could say it wasn’t his fault, but he knew it was. And he fucking hated it. 

[lady-daydream]

Random Headcanons about MacCready Fallout 4 - (Part 1)

He has an extremely fast reaction time, with equally fast reflects to match. Naturally, this fast reaction time was due to him always being alert while in the Commonwealth and in Capital Wasteland. However, this reaction time sometimes puts people on edge as he always seems to know when a glass will fall or when an enemy is behind a wall before anyone else can hear or see them. This mixed with his extremely high survival instinct means he almost always seems to have an awareness and the upper hand in many scenarios. He has even somehow dodging incoming (and fatal) bullets without thinking. He clocked it down to luck. However, this little skill of his does not fully show itself until he is seen with Duncan. If Duncan is even close to falling over his hand is already there to balance him. Duncan's about to drop a toy, MacCready has already got it. Maccready has an almost sixth sense, meaning he seems to just know when Duncan is about to cry. He does make an effort to not be overbearing to Duncan however even if it is only from a distance he is always making sure his son is okay. This skill however has also saved sole in multiple occasions; from catching them before their footing went lose while having to climb the remains of a pre-war building, to kicking a grenade from them before pushing them both to cover. Sole always jokes about it being his Spider Sense.

 As much as MacCready may seem like a muscle head. He has a strange need and desire to learn. He knows he is not extremely intelligent like Curie or Nick. But he still enjoys learning thing or understanding information he knows will help him survive. Some examples being, when he first left little lamplight when he was 16, he found reading helped him take his mind off things. He did however have difficulty making out most of the story, so he forced himself to learn. When he met Lucy, he had a good hang of reading, but she helped him whenever he got stumped as well as teaching him to write. Duncan’s name was actual plucked from Shakespeare's play Macbeth which she would use to help him learn. After Lucy's death, he became a farmer. He tried to find any books and advice to help him. He is a generally skilled farmer and was somehow able to make things grow just due to learning skills from precious farmers and pre-war books. When Duncan feel ill, Maccready not only asked as many doctors as he could about the disease but also tried to read as much as he could about it. He picked up not only some useful medical skills and understandings but also found he is one of the few that can follow Curies’ topical rants about medical science with being completely confused.  

However, much he likes to read, he also prefers comic books due to them being easier to read when its late and he was exhausted. He also found them easier to follow when he was younger. He also enjoys reading them to Duncan, collecting new ones whenever he can just to see Duncan’s face light up whenever he was reading him a story.

MacCready has a form of colour-blindness called Achromatopsia. This means he is unable to see colour, and only sees things in shades of black, white and grey. Due to having this as a child he quickly adapted and tried to the best of his ability to learn the different shades of grey as the colours people would associate them with. Though he has never seen colour he wishes that he could in order to see if Duncan has his mothers or his own eyes. He also prefers the night to the day due the sensitivity brought one by this condition as well as growing up in little lamplight meaning that his eyes have difficulty adjusting to light. On the other hand, he does see better in the dark slightly better than the average person. From the little he has read about it as well as what Curie later discussed with him, this form of colour blindness is genetic however is extremely rare. This however does not stump his fear that Duncan would have his colour-blindness. Curie quickly explained that Duncan is still able to see in colour even if he couldn't and quickly helped soothe that fear. He enjoys sitting with Duncan and asking him to describe the sunset and the colours he can see. While with Lucy, and later with Sole both will happily help mention a colour if he needs them to however, they do not help unless asked knowing assuming he is helpless he finds belittling. When Maccready asks however what eye colour he has Sole happily told him that he had blue eyes and that Duncan had Brown eyes.

MacCready pretended to be NCR. Due to them being more situational in the Mojave, people were more likely to just accept he was a soldier from a war far from the Capital Wasteland than ask questions. He found out about the NCR from a group of ex-soldiers turned caravan guards that mentioned a group of sharp shooters within the NCR and how they never seemed to miss. So, he stuck with that cover when lying to Lucy.

Due to this if MacCready ever met Boone, their interactions would be a mixture of reactions. Boone having a general disliking for anyone who pretends to be NCR without fighting, with this angering him is enough for him to want to start a fight. This paired with Macready’s underlining guilt about lying however not liking to back down from a fight if there isn't another option might lead to both avoiding each other out of awkwardness if Boone was unaware, or a fight if Macready's lie was known to Boone and things become confrontational. Both however could understand loss. And on the event, both shared a drink or went on watch together, both would be able to understand each other better than most. With Boone envying Macready's drive to survive due to his son, while Maccready admiring Boone’s determination even if it were for revenge. Deep down he knowing that if he could destroy ever feral ghoul, he would in a heartbeat without second thought.

 MacCready is a pretty good cards player. and has been able to win himself a bed for the night or drinks on the house more than once. He wants to learn card tricks however due to years of shooting and living in the harshness of the Capital Wasteland his fingers are to Callous and numb to do most of the more detailed and intricate tricks.

 MacCready has a habit of watching and observing as well as learning about his targets before he would kill them. He made it almost a habit of learning routines, people or things his target would interact with in order to as quickly as possible to make sure he knew where they would be when his sights landed. He got his reputation for a reason and he isn't know for being a cold-hearted son of a bitch when he needs to be. This became hyper focused after Lucy however, with him observing Feral Ghouls to understand them. From learning their movement pattern to how fast they are at attacking to how they interact with other feral ghouls. After failing to get Duncan's cure the first time from the Medtek Laboratory he used to sit, watching the hoards outside the place from a safe distance days on end ,hoping to find a time that would be safest to go.

 He has the patience of a saint. He can sit in a place for days on end waiting for a target. He would sometimes sit in Daisy's shop and act as security, not moving unless something kicked of. When he is like this is breathing slows to an almost silent rate, and he almost seems to be away in his own thoughts, with a single movement bringing him back. Daisy used to joke saying he was more a guard dog than a bodyguard.

 He met Daisy while he was still with Lucy when they travelled to Good neighbour before Duncan was born. She was helping unload caravan supplies and Lucy volunteered them both to help her. It was only a brief encounter but when Daisy spotted MacCready years later looking like he had aged many more years than had passed without the chirpy Lucy by his side she put two and two together. Though he does not remember meeting Daisy before Goodneighbour they quickly found it easier talking to each other. Though he would never admit it, he saw Daisy as an almost aunt figure. With him even telling her everything from Lying to Lucy, To Duncan, to the Gunners and even Little lamp light. Daisy would never tell anyone anything MacCready said to her in confidence, and even keeps the one-time Maccready came to here almost in tears after being unable to get the Medtek cure, covered in Injures a secret. Knowing that he would not want anyone seeing him in a weakened state. She always says he has a free spare bed above her shop if he needs it. And in return, if Daisy ever needs Macready's skill set for anything, he will do it with very little questions asked. She even helps him with anything he is reading with her love of books and pre-war knowledge meaning she has a little collection of books she will let him borrow as well as the understanding of pre-war words and their meanings.

MacCready likes anything Elvis created, and finds all his songs enjoyable. Though to many of his holotapes exist, he has had the luck to listen to a few. He hums them when he is doing some repetitive tasks such as cleaning his weapon or Collecting his bullets. His favourites are Blue Suede Shoes which he likes to teach and sing with Duncan. (Though he cannot dance to save his life), as well as Return to sender and if I can dream.

Sorry this has to be in a few parts, I’ve just moved to university so haven't had a lot of time. The other parts will be following shortly.

This one is for you @thatwolfnamednyla and @strawberrymilkuwo who both agree that Maccready deserves some attention and love. He is personally my joint favourite companion in all the fallout games, and he after having him as a companion I don't pick anyone else. 

I'm sorry in advance if their are many spelling mistakes please comment if you see any so I can correct them. :) If anyone has any suggestions/ imagine/ headcannons please just message me or comment and I will try and write it as quickly and to the best as my ability. I hope everyone has an amazing day, love you all <3

[laur-rants]

Fic Update: Blood Wolf

Chapter 3

Fandom: Dishonored Ship: Daud/The Outsider. yes, I made that executive decision.

Rated: Mature to Explicit, Strong Violence and  Gore Ahead!!

Synopsis: Daud-Centric Prequel to Wolfbann. The story centers on how Daud turned, and his subsequent marking by the outsider and his formulation of the Whalers. Notes: There probably won’t be nsfw content in this fic, but it WILL be… violent. I want to play with my own boundaries of written violence and also Daud’s start wasn’t nearly as clean as Corvo’s. Their contrast on dealing with the werewolf transformation is one of the things I want to really explore, and Daud gets very close to falling off the wagon.

CHAPTER TAGS: Daud transforms. It’s horrible and wonderful all at the same time. There is a mild description of consuming a person, but I wouldn’t consider it cannibalism. Necessarily. Werewolves sometimes... eat people. AO3 link First :: Previous :: Next

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Dunwall, Gristol

Month of Clans -- 1820

Daud set up a meeting with the contract creator the next night. It gave him time to prepare, to consider his options and perhaps, to look a little less frightful for the person he wished to work with. The address given on the contract was nondescript; a small general practitioner's office, tucked away in Draper's Ward and identified by the universal dual-snake staff on the window. Daud chose to drop by after hours, of course; no need for others to see the owner conversing with an assassin. He had planted an earlier note to say he would be visiting unconventionally but the individual inside the office room still jumped when suddenly a whaler mask was knocking gently at the upstairs office window.

It was a small man with a round face and large eyebrows that greeted Daud, glasses getting pushed up as he quickly came over, unlatching the terrace doors and allowing the assassin entry. Daud slipped in, silent and stealthy despite the tremble in his hands and shoulders. He hadn't expected his client to be a doctor and quietly hoped the man wouldn't pay close enough attention to ask questions.

"Thank you for finally getting back to me on this contract," the man -- Misha Romanov, if Daud remembered the contract properly -- nervously said, looking over Daud. His eyes trailed from the mask and hood to the black clothes to the whaler blade at his side. He swallowed, clearly intimidated, walking around the office to physically put distance between the two of them. Daud tilted his head, clicking his tongue.

"You've never hired a hitman before," Daud remarked, posing it more as an annoyed observation than a question. It was clear; from the man's unease to the amount of coin offered, he was a novice when it came to dealing with and understanding the job he was asking for. Perhaps this was a bad idea after all; but Daud was here, and it would be ludicrous to turn around now. Might as well make the best of it.

"This is my first time, yes," Misha replied, choosing to busy himself with one of his displayed medical instruments instead of looking Daud in the glassy eye. "I have never had a need before. I try more to save lives, rather than take them, you see." He wrung his hands, then offered a small smile. "But now... my brothers are dead and I have no idea what happened to them, or their dogs. They were the only family I had left… I didn't know where else to turn."

"Misha Romanov then, right?" The doctor nodded, confirming what he knew. "What happened to your brothers-- before they disappeared?" Daud asked, his voice muffled behind the thick mask. Misha, emboldened by the question, answered as clinically as possible, recounting how his brothers had gotten into a dog fighting business over the last few years, completely sucked in, throwing money into dogs and gambling over Fink's wagers. It had been an obsession -- one that ultimately, they didn't return from. Naturally, Misha feared the worst and blamed Eustace and Howard Fink for their disappearance.

"I saw the one brother, Eustace, sulking near the cafe one morning soon after Adrian and Mikhail didn't return at their usual time," Misha supplied, "and that's when I knew I'd be powerless to get justice unless I hired an assassin. So I posted my contract and waited. And waited. I had almost given up on anyone taking the job, until you contacted me. Your interest in this hit is greatly appreciated."

Daud held up a frustrated hand. "Please do not offer appreciation, not until my work is done. I'm not doing this out of the kindness of my heart. I'm doing it because it's personal, and the pay is so low only someone like me would take the contract anyway. If anyone is the lucky party in this deal, trust me, it's you."

Misha blinked. "Oh? You… you know Fink?" He then blanched, his face going terrified. "You didn't work for him in the past, did you?"

"No, nothing like that," Daud said, taking a too-ragged breath. He could feel the sweat trickling down his neck, across his wounds-- even that simple contact burned. "I actually was contracted to kill Eustace's brother, Howard. The same day your brothers most likely perished, I almost died, too. Lady Luck herself is the only reason I'm still alive; the Fink brothers were into some deep, disgusting shit."

Misha blinked, adjusting his glasses before giving Daud a more thorough look-over. Daud stiffened under the gaze, suddenly self-consciousness, and he tried to still the tremor of his limbs.

"Are you well now? You appear in pain, or feverish."

Of course this guy could tell. Daud cursed him for being such an astute doctor.

"You're not being paid enough as a doctor if you can tell that just from looking me over," Daud sneered, hiding the rasp of his voice. This only furrowed the man's brow further, his tone growing serious.

"If you need me to offer medical assistance before the mission, I'd be more than willing to--"

"I'm here for a job, doctor. Not a diagnosis."

"Right, of course, of course… But, if you're still in a state when the job is over, consider it part of the payment. I can easily add it to the contract between us, mister…?"

Void-- "Daud. Just Daud." He said, annoyed. "No Lord, no mister, no honorifics at all. I'm an assassin, not a noble."

"Sorry, just trying to be polite. And you know my name, of course, but I can supply a business card if needed--"

"No. All I need is half payment up front, and as many details on Fink that you can provide." Misha nodded; he went to a dusty safe in the corner, opened it, and pulled out a small purse of 100 silver. Daud noticed very few valuables in the safe and wondered just how lucrative being a general practitioner was in the Draper's Ward. Or, perhaps, his gambling brothers had preyed on his meager earnings too, an addiction that drained the doctor and ultimately tore apart their family. He felt the urge to ask, to reach out and inquire, but he managed to keep his curiosity to himself. It wasn't important to the job, and it wasn't Daud's business to know how wealthy his clients were, or where they got the coin they paid him with.

Misha returned with the coin and Daud carefully pocketed it. Misha also handed over papers: they contained a few addresses, including one not too far from here. Daud frowned under the mask, his breath hissing out of the respirator.

"That's his home and work addresses," Misha explained. "I tend to see him at this cafe, Swinney's, down off Cashmere Ave in the mornings. I pass it on my way to the clinic in the mornings."

"That's quite a ways from here," Daud muttered, before he could stop himself. Misha just shrugged.

"The commute is long on foot, but it's what I can afford. Most nights I just stay here. Cheaper that way."

Daud said nothing. Just crumpled the paper in his hand before folding it up and tucking it away, next to his contract.

"Do not be surprised if this takes some time. Assassination is not easy, nor is it quick in the way you expect it is. I will seek you out once the hit is complete, understood?"

Misha nodded, and if he had any further questions, he didn't ask them. "Whatever you need to do, I suppose."

"That's why they call it 'wet work,' Romanov," Daud told him, a hint of dark humor coloring his words. Daud then took his departure, leaving Misha and the office as silently as he had entered.

------

It should be simple. An easy set up: an easy take down. Silent, efficient, no trace to let anyone ask after. Eustace Fink was not well guarded, not spatially aware, and he was incredibly routine. Textbook, really.

Instead, it was shaping up to be one of the hardest stake outs of Daud's career.

He had spent a few days setting up the kill, pulling himself through the motions. He cached any necessary food, plenty of coin, and a few changes of clothes. He knew where he needed to be and when. He had all of his equipment restocked from the black market right outside of the Distillery District, where nobody asked twice about his mask or his stance. It was all ready to go.

But of course it couldn't be that simple. Nothing of importance ever was.

It was the fourth night of his stakeout when it happened. As soon as he settled in to make the hit finally happen, his fever rolled him over like a riptide.

It came on quickly, the nausea. He hadn't expected it; for the last week his fever had been low-grade, barely noticeable. He had, effectively, learned to ignore it. But it came roaring back up as if it was the day he spent crawling out of the sewer. One second, he was relaxing, waiting for Fink to be alone in his own home; the next he was lurching, tossing the whaler mask up and over his head just in time to empty the contents of his stomach over the side of the roof.

It stank so bad he reeled, dry heaving again. He managed to keep the rest of it down, the sweat drenching his forehead as he wiped his mouth with the back of a clammy glove. He growled in frustration, his arms barely holding his weight, but he spent the extra moments to breathe, evening out his heartbeat and emotions. He looked over to the estate; Fink was alone. Daud felt his stomach flip again, making itself known. He swallowed back the sensation; it was now or never.

Sickness be damned, he needed to get this hit off.

He stood and his feet were surprisingly steady for the vertigo he was experiencing. Not that he was worried; Daud had stalked and successfully killed someone drunk before. It was a dare, one that Rulfio didn't think he would go through with, but he was even younger and cockier back then. A little head sickness was nothing compared to that job, but the thought of Rulfio sobered him enough to keep focused on the task at hand. He lithely jumped from the roof, heading to the Draper's Ward residence, as silent as a street cat.

He kept a bead on Fink even as he felt the sweat gather on his forehead again; something in his chest felt like it wanted to burst, and Daud vaguely hoped it wasn't his heart. He slipped on a roof tile, steadied himself, then listened intently, hearing Eustace's voice float up.

"I should be fine, but I can't help but think that I should be more worried about what happened that night. I mean-- I woke up and Howard was dead and so was that huge black magic brute. There was another person, dead in the corner, and so many unlucky bodies that didn't make it out alive… there will be questions soon. So many questions. How do they not smell it there under the Pub? Maybe the rats ate the bodies… how convenient if so. Nothing to investigate, nothing to convict. If the City Watch ever got wind of this..."

It took Daud a bit of processing to suss out if Eustace was speaking to someone else in the room, but no; the beat and cadence was reminiscent of someone recording an audiograph. If he listened closely enough, nearing the balcony door, he could hear the whirr of the machine, the click of the hole punch. His breathing hitched and his pulse thundered in his ear.

His prey was so, deliciously, tantalizingly, close. Daud stayed his hand, listening closely.

The machine stopped, pushing the card out and finishing the audiograph. There were footsteps, and Eustace walked out onto his balcony, his hands tight as he tucked the audiograph away in his vest, where he clearly thought it safe. His back was to Daud and the balcony door, lighting a cigar, the smoke curling up into the warm summer night air.

The wind roared in Daud's ears. It would be so easy to drop down, slit his throat, watch the blood spill over his gloves-- and suddenly he was aching for it, longing for the crunch of bones, the heat of crimson rivers running from a burst vein, the thrill of a new kill…

The thoughts were intrusive and revolting, nearly causing him to heave again. He still managed to hold himself together, not wanting to drown in his mask, even ignoring the persistent itch on his face. The rising threat of bile burned at the back of his throat but he swallowed it down, his grip growing tight on the roof's edge. He held his position and waited, patience baked into him from years of careful practice. Fink eventually finished enjoying his cigar, extinguishing the butt before turning back to his room.

Daud waited for Fink to pass under him. He then slipped down, his boots silent against the stone. He crouched, righted himself, and pulled his blade from his side. His thumb found the notch in the metal.

When Eustace Fink turned around to close the balcony doors, Daud was there, glassy eyes and muzzled mask glaring down at the second noble that had caused this nightmare of his to happen.

Fink opened his mouth to scream. Daud rushed him, faster than he's ever moved. A powerful hand gripped Eustace by the throat, silencing him and guiding him over to a wall far from any escape route. He felt like nothing in Daud's grasp, like he was a weighted bag that Daud had the displeasure of carrying for a friend. The man was larger than him, heftier, and yet Daud could take him and lift him with a single arm, his right hand still holding the blade he'd drawn. It was heady and unbelievable, Daud didn't know where this power was coming from but it surged through him like a rising storm. He tapped further into that tempest, slamming Eustace into the wall next to his desk.

The man whimpered. Daud snarled. Fink flinched and gasped and Daud almost laughed. He can't believe someone so weak-hearted tried to command a literal monster.

Or perhaps, a nasty little voice in his head supplied, the monster was the weak one... Show him that you are different. Show him what your Power is.

"You and your brother sure made a lot of enemies, didn't you, Eustace…" Daud growled out, his teeth feeling oddly heavy, morphing his words as he spoke them. They came out graveled and sharp and he suppressed the urge to lick his lips as he continued. "If I'm here, you have a bigger problem than the City Watch finding bloated bodies under a riverside bar."

Fink said nothing. Instead, he started crying. Of all things, the man wept in front of his soon-to-be killer. Daud almost recoiled in disgust; this man wasn't even worth the coin. He slammed Fink against the wall again, eliciting a startled yelp from him.

"Do you even know why I'm here, Eustace Fink?" Daud spat the name out like it was undercooked blood ox. "Do you know who killed your brother? It was the assassin who you thought was dead in the sewers when you woke up. Your brother's monster ruined me but I survived and if you value your life, you're going to give me the answers I deserve."

His voice grew in power despite the low whisper he spoke with. His words filled his own ears, reaching the room around them, and Fink gulped visibly. He looked Daud over, rasping against the hold that kept him in place.

"Did it mark you?" He asked, finally. "The Outsider's monster?"

"And if it did?" Daud threatened, mask dangerously close to Fink's face. "What does it matter?" He brought the blade up, his head tilting. "What do you know, Eustace Fink?"

"Ah, I-I don't know as much as Howard did! He found the original beast, not me! But it… they always changed. The curse was always passed down. There isn't a cure for it. They all went mad and eventually--" Eustace gasped and his words died as Daud's grip dangerously tightened. He recalled what Brimsley had said to him, the words burning in his ears.

"You're one now too, aren't you?"

Daud's body lurched. His grip loosened, freeing Fink as that nausea filled him again, along with a different sensation, one where his head, his chest, his limbs wanted to burst, his skin scorching him all over.

"No," Daud rasped out, his eyes far away. "I am not--" He stared at his gloves; his vision blurring dangerously. When Fink tried to crawl away, however, his sight caught the movement, head turning sharply. In a flurry, the blade was singing through Eustace's heels; the tendons sliced like butter and Fink collapsed, crying out. The blood pooled around his ankles, the smell of it sharp in Daud's nose. Eustace stayed prone on the floor, whimpering, his face rapidly losing color as shock set in.

Pathetic.

Daud hunched over Fink's form, his breath ragged and heavy. Eustace stared at him, eyes wet and terrified, and Daud felt his seams unravel, his body falling apart.

"It's happening? Here, now? Oh Void, oh Outsider's eyes…" Fink continued to babble, crying out for the fabled god of the Void, as if such an entity existed, could even save him from what was happening. Daud opened his mouth to refute Eustace; it came out as a splintered roar, words failing him.

"Where is your god, Eustace?" His voice boomed, but he did not know where the words came from, not when his mouth was making such unearthly noise. "You were the one who played god, killing assassins for your games, your bloody gambling coin. Did you think yourself honorable, setting such a trap? How many men died to serve you and your fucked up brother?"

Eustace paled and he looked so small, so tiny, so weak. To think this man and his brother succeeded as much as they had, enslaving unknowing participants for entertainment…

His head reeled in anger and rage. He pulled the man close, his hands curling into smoking, burning claws that dig deep into Eustace's clothes, ripping at skin.

"Stop praying to a god who won't listen! This is your reality! Now face your judgement!"

Daud ripped the whaler mask off and underneath was no longer the face of a man. A true muzzle burst from his face, black and filled with glistening, razored fangs. His wounds burned and steamed as his eyes bulged and he screamed, the pain of the last month consuming him entirely. Ribs cracked and bones shifted and he grew, his body doubling, tripling. His skin was tearing off and it felt so good, like he had been waiting his whole life, his whole existence, for this singular moment of unbridled ecstasy.

He roared and it was like the land, the sea, like the Void itself, shook under the sound of his cry. He laughed, eyes watering, filled with relief and pain and it was all so much, too much. He screeched, the sounding reminiscent of a dying whale, before his teeth slammed together like a crashing wave. Fink was still in his vicinity; he could smell the fear, hear the pleading, but all it did was anger him further. He didn't need this sniveling worm of a human.

A clawed hand grabbed Eustace and in the next second his body was in ribbons. Guts spilled and a head rolled and Daud felt his mind flee, the smell of iron and heat overwhelming his senses in a way he'd never known after a kill. Suddenly he was ravenous, he needed that blood on his tongue. He obliged his primal desire, ripping the man's arm off with ease, letting bone and fat and muscle fill his mouth with the heat of a fleeing life.

There was a scream. Daud's ears caught it and he turned, lip curling. He had nothing to say to the woman standing in the door, hair tied back and clutching her dress. The sound of her distress continued, unwavering. Daud stepped towards her, snarling.

She ran.

He was moving faster than he could ever have imagined, his legs possessing a strength that was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. His body moved on its own accord, spurred on by the thrill of the hunt, of the pursuit of prey and he was giddy, drunk off it. The house was a maze but his nose cut through the turns, following the fear and nausea, the horror of his unhinged rampage left in his wake. Walls and doors meant nothing; his body either forced its way through or smoked through openings, dissolving and coalescing in ways he didn't understand and spent no time dwelling on. He was consumed instead with the goal of reaching for and pouncing on his next victim, then the next. He caught sounds over the rush of his own blood; a tiny shrill voice here, a male voice there, the howl of hounds released upon him. All of them meant nothing; their teeth could not hurt him now. Their attacks were just pin pricks of lucidity within his fever dream, all dying or cowering before his unbridled wrath. Two dogs were bodily thrown, another bitten in half, still another tossed at a human handler, throwing both dog and man through a wall. He pursued, determined to not let anyone in the house escape. Not this time. Not after this hell month, not after everything--

A drop of water rippled through the chaos of his mind. The scent of the sea filled his nostrils, the sound of whales keened in his ears. Daud stilled, suddenly entranced, and turned his head.

A rune chittered and vibrated and sang on an ensconced shrine. The room was small, perhaps a hidden pantry; it had been revealed when Daud had thrown the body through the wall. Purple cloth fluttered from the disturbance of the crash and used candles scattered about the floor and table.

Someone was sitting on that table, cross-legged: someone lithe, dark, and still holding the ageless beauty of youth. Despite the slim, ethereal frame the person presented, Daud could sense the incredible shadow lurking just out of sight, the leviathan crying from the deep.

The figure smiled, his black, endless eyes glittering. He beckoned, and Daud obeyed. Like a leashed hound, he was irrevocably pulled under the waves, his huge body buckling before the sight of something greater, something far more ancient than he could ever fathom to be. He bowed his giant furred head and cold hands ran over his wounds, calming the persistent itch and smoothing away his month-long fever. Daud whined, giving himself over entirely as the figure held him close, arms embracing him like a long lost lover. The voice in his ears calmed his storm and soothed his pain and called him Home.

"Oh, Daud, beautiful Daud," the man cooed and Daud was enraptured, a whale's cry leaving him like a warbled gasp. The grip tightened on him and suddenly his body was melting away, the fur turning to ash to reveal his human skin underneath. He breathed, his left hand itching pleasantly where the figure held it, the other hand running smooth circles across his shoulders and down his back. Daud looked up into that ancient face and when it smiled, there was no warmth, no stars in those endlessly black eyes.

"I knew you would come back to me, Daud. After all..." the god's smile spread, breaking his face.

"...It was just a matter of time."

[tarisilmarwen]

Crumbling

I want you all to know that this is entirely @burr-ell​'s fault and you can direct your complaints for emotional damage at her.

TW: Implied torture

---

When Starfire's first scream went up Robin flinched, but after a momentary pause, shook himself and kept working, concentrating on the lines of code scrolling across Cyborg's arm display.

The pale blue light from it was all that illuminated the cell, splashing across the thick reinforced steel walls.  Blast-proof, electro-saw proof, an impressive feat of construction really, that he might have appreciated in a circumstance where it wasn't severely limiting their options for escape.

Robin's belt had been confiscated, along with the lockpicks he kept hidden on his person--they had been very thorough--further limiting their choices.  Cyborg's hands had been removed at the wrists, his biointerface messed with so that he couldn't access any of his inbuilt weapons or tools, and with Raven and Beast Boy both locked in power nullification collars and Starfire in the next room having who knew what being done to her, this was their last idea left.

Cyborg sat calmly in place, checking their progress.  Metal tubes from the stumps of his wrists trailed across the floor in both directions, hotwired into Beast Boy and Raven's collars.  As Robin slowly restored his programming line by line, he was hacking into them, working through the simple encryption that protected the collars from outside signal interruption.

The half-robot felt Robin stiffen again, as another scream went up from behind the wall, the boy's hands on his metal arm fisting tightly.  Cyborg glanced up, seeing Robin's face twisting, as though he were the one being tortured.

He touched Robin's shoulder.  "Hey," he called.  "She'll be all right," he said, encouragingly.  "Our girl's really strong, you know."

Robin exhaled slowly, relaxing his hands.  "I know, I just..."  His voice was shaky, a trembling note in it.  "I hate hearing her in pain."

He kept his words quiet, low, a nervous crawling awareness in the back of his head of the eyes watching him.   Or, single eye rather.

Slade sat in the shadows against the far wall, observing silently.  The reason he was here--the only reason, he'd emphasized repeatedly--was lying prone across the man's lap.  Jericho was unconscious and pale, electric burns all across his face and body, his uniform ripped and dirty.

Robin tried not to think about the fact that whatever had been done to him was probably being done to Starfire, right that moment.

Despite his cautious whisper, Slade apparently overheard him.  "Then you had better work quickly," he commented, witheringly flat.

The Boy Wonder resisted the urge to snap back at the villain.

"I'm trying, it's--"  He let out a frustrated exhale.  "--it's complicated."

"That's an encouraging assessment," Slade said.

"Look, if you don't have anything productive to say just shut up," Beast Boy piped up, snapping, crossing his arms and glaring at the man.  "Seriously dude."

Slade turned his head and held up a hand, backing off.

Robin paid Beast Boy a grateful look, to which the changeling replied with a nod, and then got back to work, fixing another line of code.

He tried not to think about what was happening in the next room.  What Starfire had offered herself up for, to save the rest of them.

He still hated it every time it replayed in his head.

***

The heavy door clicked open, spilling blinding light into the dark cell.  The Titans tensed, Robin and Beast Boy and Raven all standing at once to their feet, glaring across at the white-coated villain and his armed entourage.

The guards raised their firearms immediately to discourage any funny business as their boss stepped forward.

"Finding your accommodations comfortable?" he asked, a veneer of politeness over his slimy cadence.

"Oh yeah," Beast Boy snarked.  "Pitch black room with no seats or TV, just five-star stuff there."

The man--a mad scientist who went by the name Dr. Agony--shifted to face Slade's corner, sneering.  "I must say, Deathstroke," he said, "I was never expecting you to bring so many young heroes with you.  I always thought you worked alone.  I suppose I should thank you."  A creepy grin spread his face.  "Now I have plenty of test subjects for my experiments!" he crowed.

Slade's glare had been ice cold, seething with withheld anger.  "I hope you realize you're dead when I get out of here," he said calmly.

Dr. Agony backed off with a bit of a nervous laugh, turning his attention instead to the Titans.  He looked them over one by one, considering them, scrutinizing them.

"Let's see... who to try my device on next?" he mused.  A hand pinched his chin in contemplation as he paced before them.  "The youngest?" he suggested, stopping briefly in front of Beast Boy, who glared right back.  Dr. Agony glanced aside at Robin thoughtfully.  "Or perhaps the one without powers?"

There was a stirring next to the Boy Wonder, and an orange hand inserted itself between him and the doctor.

"I will do it," Starfire said firmly.

Dr. Agony clapped his hands together and rubbed them.  "A volunteer!  Oh how exciting!  This has never happened!" he gushed.

Robin turned aside to Starfire, his expression agonized.  "Star, don't," he begged.  "Let me do it."

She shook her head.

"I am more resilient than the rest of you and... I have faced torture before," she told him, hesitating on the last part. She turned her face up to him with a sad smile.   "I will be okay," she promised in a whisper.

Robin bit his lip, but stepped back with a nod.

Starfire steeled herself, facing the villain.

"Right this way, my dear!" he said, extending a hand past himself towards the door.

Straightening her chin, Starfire walked past him.  The guards flanked her on the way out, hiding her from view before Dr. Agony followed behind and the door snapped shut plunging them into pitch blackness once again.

***

The minutes ticked on inside the cell.  Cyborg tested his biointerface every so often, slowly regaining functionality.  Raven sat in a meditative position, eyes closed, concentrating on the vague sensations she could feel past the collar's dampening.  Beast Boy fidgeted, bouncing his foot and tapping his hands on his knee.

Occasional yells came from behind the door, but they were brief.  Aside from making the Titans flinch, they weren't a distraction.

Until suddenly... the screaming didn't stop.

A shriek went up, louder than before, long and agonized.  Robin gasped sharply, head whipping towards the door.  The shriek went on, and on, and on.

Beast Boy stopped fidgeting.  Raven's face pinched, her eyes tightening, and Cyborg looked towards the wall worriedly.  Even Slade cast a concerned look that direction.

Shaking, Robin forced his attention back down on Cyborg's arm, fingers sliding across the display keys.  Starfire's scream finally died down, and Robin almost sighed in relief, but then a new wail started.  And then another, and then another, and then another after that.

Robin's fingers fumbled and he frantically backtracked several lines of code to correct several errors he'd made, only to make new ones.  He tapped agitatedly at the keyboard display before his hands dropped off Cyborg's arm, covering his face.

"Oh god..." he breathed.

"Don't give up," Cyborg encouraged, eyes earnest.  "You've almost got it."

Robin inhaled deeply, trying again.

Raven's eyes were open now, fixed on the wall, her face paling as Starfire's screaming continued in an uninterrupted streak.  Beast Boy gave a little whimper, bringing his hand up and biting his thumb.

They didn't need to say anything for Robin to understand what they were all thinking.  The sooner Cyborg was fixed, the quicker they could help Starfire.  It was all up to him.  It was all up--

Starfire screeched, a shrill high-pitched cry that rang like alarm bells in their heads.

Robin rocked back, his hands clamping over his ears, fingers clawing against his scalp, squeezing his eyes closed tightly.

"Stop..." he whispered.  "Stop it..."  His voice trembled as he begged the open air.  "...please..."

"Robin," Cyborg called.

No response.

"Robin, hey!" Cyborg said, a little louder, lifting his arm and sharply slapping the boy's shoulder with the stub of his wrist.  "Snap out of it!  I need to you focus!" he admonished, eyes and expression firm.

Robin shook his head weakly.  "I can't...  I--I can't, Cyborg, she..." he stammered.

"We can't help her unless we finish this," Cyborg reminded him with emphasis.

It was no use.  Robin was already curling up with his knees to his chest, mumbling incoherently, hands still squeezing his ears.

"...my fault, s'all my fault, I shouldn't have let her..."

Cyborg glanced about in aggravation and frustration.  "C'mon man, don't do this now," he pleaded, an edge of desperation creeping into his face.

He glanced briefly towards Slade--no help there, he knew.  He looked to the other Titans.  Raven had her gaze on Robin now, looking pained.  Beast Boy's eyes were wide as saucers, the blood drained from his face as he looked on, horrified.

Cyborg gave a growl.  "B, you're up.  Get over here," he ordered.

"Me?!" Beast Boy squeaked.  He gawped indignantly.  "What am I supposed to do?"

"Finish fixing my code, now come on," Cyborg said, urging him over with his head.

Beast Boy picked up the wire leading into his collar and dragged it over with him as he came over, stepping around Robin as the Boy Wonder trembled in place.

He leaned down and took a quick look at the text in Cyborg's arm.  He blanched again.

"Dude, what is this?  Is this Python?!  I'm not qualified for this!" the changeling protested.

"You hack computers all the time!" Cyborg argued, his voice rising.

"Yeah but that's different!  I can't just mess around in your systems!"

"Well someone has to do it!" Cyborg snapped loudly.

His shout echoed in the room a moment, then left the room completely silent save for Robin's whimpering gibberish.

Cyborg noticed the stressed glimmer hugging the edges of Beast Boy's eyes, and sighed, lowering his voice again.

"Look, it's easy," he said quietly.  "Just read out the code to me, and I'll tell you exactly what to do."

Beast Boy's pinched eyes flicked towards Robin, but Robin's head was buried in his knees and shaking, so with extreme reluctance he knelt down by Cyborg, accepting that--for the moment--the Titans' fearless leader was useless to them.

"Okay..." Beast Boy breathed, trying to calm his nerves.  His sensitive ears could pick out every decibel of Starfire's screaming and that forced him to remember what was at stake.  "Okay...  So, the first line is--"

The two of them worked quickly, Beast Boy reading out the lines of code and programming and Cyborg quickly identifying which part was wrong and instructing the changeling how to change it.

Sharp electric crackling could now be heard, punctuating the spaces between Starfire's screams.  Robin squished himself smaller and smaller, his arms like vices around his leg, whispering, "Stopitstopitstopistopit..." in a long blended stream.

Slade was silent in the corner, watching with an unreadable expression, but Cyborg thought he caught a glimpse of the man's grip tightening protectively on Jericho.

The half-robot sent signals to Raven's collar again.

"Ngh!" she grunted, giving a harsh jolt and a flinch behind her closed eyes.

Beast Boy paused a moment, glancing over in concern.  "Raven?" he asked.  "What is it?"

Raven's face was grimacing in discomfort.  "It's working," she relayed.  She opened her eyes, expression grim.  "I can feel her."

Beast Boy's eyes widened.  He glanced first at Robin--who had finally pulled his face from his knees, a tormented look on his haggard features--and then at Cyborg, who nodded.

The changeling's voice grew a little tighter and higher-pitched as he read out the next part.

"Okay, so I close the brackets right?"

"Yeah, and make sure those quotation marks are inside the parenthesis," Cyborg confirmed.

Starfire's next scream was louder than ever, ending in a horrible pained sobbing.

"Azar..." Raven breathed.

Robin uncurled with a cry, surging to his feet, flinging himself against the door.

"STOP IT!  STOP IT!  LEAVE HER ALONE!" he shouted, pounding on the metal with his fists.  "LEAVE HER ALONE!"

"Oh man..." Beast Boy whimpered, his attention already drawing away from Cyborg's arm towards the awful display.

"Keep going," Cyborg urged.

Beast Boy kept reading aloud the lines, following Cyborg's instructions to fix them, trying to ignore the slams and crashing coming from in front of them as Robin threw himself bodily into the thick cell wall.

Bang!  BANG!

Robin couldn't think, half-feral with fear and desperation.  He screamed his lungs out furiously, scratching, clawing at the door, smashing his fists into it over and over.

"BASTARD!" he shrieked.  "I'LL KILL YOU!  I SWEAR  I'LL KILL YOU!"

There was nothing in his head but panic and anger.  Starfire was out there, she was in pain, and he couldn't make it stop.

There was a low voice from beyond the door--Dr. Agony maybe?--and a breath in-between a surge of electric humming and Starfire's awful, awful scream-filled cries of agony.

"STOP!" he yelled in response.  "Starfire!  Starfire!"  His vision was blurring, his knuckles were bruised and his head spun but he didn't care, he just wanted to smash through the wall and pull her from that stupid device and hold her and bury his face in her hair and know she was okay, tell her she was okay, tell it it had all stopped.  He reeled back with a dry sob.  "Take me instead!" he called.  "Take me, please, I'll do anything!"  Wet heat was welling up in his eyes but he was beyond the point of noticing anymore.  "Please just stop!  Please!"

He drew back and slammed himself into the door again.

"Stop hurting her!"

"Robin--" Raven began to say, worried gaze fixed on him mutely.

Another slam.

"I'll kill you, you bastard. I'LL KILL YOU!  STOP IT!"

"Robin stop, she can hear you!" Raven cried.

A hand clutched at her temple.  Cyborg and Beast Boy's work was evident in the fading numbness, the ever-loudening echoes she could feel through her empathic senses, which rang with feedback from her bond with Robin.  Starfire's pain fed into Robin's distress, which fed back into Starfire's, cyclical and building and stumbling over each other in her head and she almost didn't want her powers back if this hellish loop of pain and fear and hopelessness was what waited for her.

Robin just charged headlong into the door again with a snarling cry.

Raven shifted, moving to get up, but Slade was already beating her to the punch.  Jericho was laid down carefully on the floor and the man stood to his feet, walking calmly over to the frenzied Robin.

The Boy Wonder smashed into the door once more, reeling back with a pained groan and clutching at his shoulder.  He was moving back to try again, but just as he lurched forward Slade's hand caught his arm and stopped him, turning the boy to face him.

"That's enough, Robin," he said sternly.

Robin rounded on him, shouting shrilly.  "This is all your fault!" he yelled.  His arm drew back for a swing.  "We wouldn't even be here if you hadn't--"

Slade caught the punch he threw, gripping Robin's wrist tightly, harshly.

"This.  Won't.  Help her," he hissed, the words pinching through his teeth.

Robin inhaled shakily, the tears in his eyes welling up and finally spilling down his cheeks.  He leaned forward, choking back a sob, resting his forehead on Slade's chestplate.

Slade stiffened, dropping Robin's wrist and giving an aggravated hiss.  His hands hovered awkwardly in the air.  The Titans gaped openly, wearing matching expressions of shock.  Robin sniffled pitifully, his shoulders shaking.

After a long uncomfortable moment, Slade finally pushed at Robin's shoulders, and Robin seemed to come to himself, pulling quickly back and wiping at his eyes.

"'m sorry.  I'm sorry," he mumbled.

Cyborg shook his head, nudging Beast Boy with his knee to keep working.  They could process how weird all this was later.  "All right, BB, I think one more signal disruption should do it."

Beast Boy nodded, returning to the lines of code and entering in another cipher.

As soon as he finished, Cyborg tested the inner mechanism of his sonic cannon, sending a surge of electricity through his arm, up the wire, and into Raven's collar.

It shorted, sparking and then popping open and Raven snapped up her hands in a flash.

"Azarath Metrion Zinthos!" she yelled.

Black energy poured out from her, extinguishing the dim computer display, and a chill surrounded them.  Sounded muted out for a moment before becoming horribly clear, light and open air hitting their faces.

Their feet were barely back on solid ground before Robin launched himself forward, screaming wretchedly.  He body-checked one of Dr. Agony's technicians, slamming the man into the ground, his fist uppercutting the man's jaw.  A couple more brutal punches smashed into the technician's face before the guards were finally reacting, rushing forward, pulling the Boy Wonder off.  He twisted around, his arms flailing, legs sweeping out for kicks and he soon became a blur to the other Titans' eyes.

Raven let her powers lash around the room, slicing through rifles, smacking men into the walls.  The wires rolled up into Cyborg's wrist stubs and he shoulder-slammed a technician aside to retrieve one of his hands from a metal table.  Beast Boy tossed him his other one and Cyborg's sonic cannon ratcheted up, adding its noise to the chaos and din.

At some point Beast Boy's collar came off and his roars sounded as he towered over the room in T-Rex form, sweeping his tail across a row of equipment and tables and splintering the rack they had Starfire attached to.  She collapsed across the rubble, crimson hair splaying across the ground.

Raven shoved out walls of black matter, pushing obstacles aside so she could clear a path to the Tamaranian.  The empathic waves she could sense from Starfire were finally calming, but Robin was blaring louder than ever.  She cast her eyes about, looking for him.

There was a swoosh of air, a dull thud, and a wet gargle from her right, and her empathic senses felt a rush of fear blossoming; her head whipped that direction in time to see a quick flash of Slade, Jericho over his shoulder, pulling a knife from Dr. Agony's gut.  The man toppled over, out of sight, and she had turn away to sidestep the blow a guard was swinging at her.

She looked forward again.  Beast Boy and Cyborg were making their way to Starfire's side.  Robin had another guard pinned underneath him; the man's nose was broken--possibly his jaw too--and blood streamed freely down his face and Robin was still punching, each blow harder and harder, screaming with every breath.

Raven reached out as he was lifting his fist again, snagging his wrist.

"Enough!" she shouted.  She pulled him backwards off the guard, yanking him to his feet, grabbing his arms near the shoulders.  "It's okay, it's okay Robin, we've got her now," she assured him.  "Calm down."

He gasped heavily, catching his breath, every limb shaking and vibrating, the rage within him quivering.  With enormous effort, he forced himself to take deeper and slower breaths.

A soft groan sounded.

Robin shoved Raven aside with his arm, running and stumbling towards the fallen princess.  Cyborg had turned her over, was busy examining her, checking her pulse, her breathing, but Robin couldn't wait for him to be finished, throwing himself down and scooping her up in his arms, squeezing her tightly.

"Star..." he sobbed, tear tracks streaking down his face again.  "Star I'm so, so sorry!  I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." he breathed over and over again.

She moaned quietly, her eyelids fluttering open, eyes still vibrantly green in spite of the pallor of her skin and the burn marks marring her clothes and extremities.

Her mouth twitched with a smile.

"Robin..." she whispered, and the relief in her voice made the floodgates open and Robin cried openly, wheezing, shuddering, sobbing until he hiccuped, unable to make himself move or do anything but hold her tighter and tighter, feel her heartbeat against his chest.

She was warm...

The other Titans hovered, keeping careful watch over the fallen guards and technicians.  Raven glanced over and grimaced at the growing pool of blood underneath the twisted body of the doctor.  Slade and Jericho had vanished.  She couldn't sense them anywhere near.

Feeling the consciousnesses of several men beginning to return, she tugged lightly on Robin's cape.

"We can't stay here," she told him.

Pulling his head up, Robin inhaled and nodded.  He didn't move for several long seconds though, and finally Beast Boy just nosed his way under them, becoming an elephant to carry them out of there.

Raven lifted Cyborg and the Titans made their escape, turning down hallways and corridors until they emerged into the open air.

Robin cradled Starfire tightly the whole way, slowly growing numb to the world.

***

Sunlight streamed into the room, bright to match the cadence of her voice as she sat up, eating and talking.

Robin hovered outside the door to the medbay, holding his elbows.  Hesitating.

Starfire picked food from her tray as she chatted, dressed in a light hospital gown, her arms wrapped with white bandages.  The other Titans--plus Jericho--were arranged around her in a supportive circle.  She sounded okay, but Robin had heard crying from the room in the middle of the night, and he wasn't sure if it was his nightmares bleeding into reality or reality bleeding into his nightmares.

He was almost afraid to ask.

"You know I can sense you standing out there."

Robin startled at Raven's voice from inside the room.  The conversation had gone quiet without him noticing.  With a grimace, he stepped around the doorframe.

Cyborg leaned back from Starfire's hospital bed, sending him a grin.

"Look who decided to finally join us," he quipped.

His grin faded as he and Beast Boy separated from the rest and came over to speak with him privately.

"Real talk, are you okay man?" Cyborg asked, voice low.  "You took everything pretty hard."

The concern with which they were looking at him was scalding and he hated it.  "I'm not the one who got..."  He paid an uncomfortable glance at Starfire and Jericho.  "...experimented on."

"Yeah but you, like... completely fell apart," Beast Boy pointed out, whispering.  "You practically wanted a hug from Slade."

"Don't remind me," Robin muttered.

"Robin?" Starfire called from behind them.

"We'll talk later," Robin decided, pushing past the other boys.

Starfire beamed broadly upon seeing him.  She extended a hand, motioning for him to sit next to her.  Jericho got up from the spot she indicated, nodding at Robin.

Should we let you two have a minute? he signed.

"Yes.  Thanks," he said gratefully.

Jericho grabbed the stand his IV was hanging from and rolled it along with him, motioning for the others to follow.

Raven cast a look at him that promised they would be talking later before she followed the boys out of the room, Beast Boy and Cyborg sharing matching expressions of reluctance.

Their footsteps faded from hearing.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Robin flung himself across the room to her side, his arms wrapping tight around her, a choked sound coming from him.

Starfire let out a grunt of surprise at first, but quickly wound her arms across his back.  Her face tucked into the crook of his neck and she felt his shoulders shaking.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed.  "I'm so sorry, Starfire, when I heard you I just--I couldn't--"

"I know," she told him.  "I understand."  She squeezed him tighter, her fingers curling into his tunic.  "But it was... difficult... hearing you and knowing you could not help me."

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

They stayed there, embracing each other, Robin's tears dripping down his chin.

Eventually he pulled back, mashing his hands across his cheeks.  He inhaled shakily, leveling his eyes at her in concern.  "Are... you okay now?" he asked anxiously.

She hesitated to answer, glancing down.  "I am... not sleeping well," she admitted softly.  "Sounds startle me.  I had an awful nightmare last night."  She traced the blanket across her legs with her fingers.  "Jericho says he is feeling much the same."  Her eyes lifted again, bright and soft, and a sad smile touched her lips.  "But we are healing quickly from the physical damage."  She shook her head.  "In time, the emotional will fade as well."

His hand crept across the bed for hers, interlacing their fingers.  "I'll be here if... if you need to talk.  About anything."

Her smile edged wider.  "Thank you."  She squeezed his hand.  "Now please," she told him, "I know you have not slept either, so go and get some rest.  For me."

"In a bit," he promised.  "I need to... look at you for a while."

She let him, her thumb brushing over the back of his hand as the sunlight framed their heads and a sense of quiet peace settled over them.

[jxdedfeelings]

Lemoncember

Day 4 & Day 5: “You feel so good and wet.” & “I can’t control myself around you.”

You fidgetted nervously in the waiting room, occasionally twiddling with your thumbs and tap tap tapping your foot against the floorboards from some emotion you couldn't quite pinpoint. Dread? Anticipation? Excitement? Hm, maybe not the latter.

Why would you be excited about a visit to the doctor?

If anything you hated these check-ups, but with them being mandatory, you couldn't really weasel your way out of it. You weren't usually as paranoid as you were now, not when you'd reached a point where you were actually comfortable coming here every so often. No, it was the fact that today of all days, your usual doctor wasn't in.

Someone else was gonna take their place.

You sighed. Why hadn't they told you sooner? You would've easily made other arrangements, moving a few dates here and there. It wasn't that you were afraid or anything, but you had just grown to like your regular one... after at least a dozen visits. The last thing you needed was to go through the whole charade again with this new face you were yet to see. Anxiety was shooting through you like a bullet and when your name was called out, you almost shrieked from how mentally preoccupied you'd been.

The culprit who'd come to collect you was a rather lean man, you could even go as far as to call him lithe. His coat hugged his slim figure, draping down until it reached just above his knees where it met loose dress pants. You could just make out his slender legs hidden underneath the material. He was relatively tall, though that might've been due to his thin build, but he was taller than you. That was for certain.

Propped atop his nose was a set of light glasses, with a delicate frame and lenses that were almost thin enough to be invisible. His brown hair was loosely combed, you'd even call it messy with how strands were going in all directions, but still, there was some appeal in its untidy fashion. As your eyes raked over him, studying each feature, he was busying himself with a clipboard that he held. With how his veins were slightly protruded, you figured he was handling it with a firm grasp, despite having such dainty hands.

You found out soon enough that he was reading your file, indirectly getting to know you whilst you barely had a clue about this stranger.

Without a word, you'd settled down in the chair nearest to his desk and observed as he continued scanning the papers before his eyes. He sauntered slowly to his chair, unlike your rushed shuffle, eventually placing himself down and still resumed to reading the words. His eyes were sharp behind those frames, and you hadn't noticed but you'd been watching them, eyeing how those blues flitted over the sheet back and forth, back and forth.

When he looked up, you flinched and felt your blood chill.

His ceruleans narrowed at first, then with a crinkle he was sending a warm smile. You eased at the sight. His lips parted and the first impression struck you. "Ah velcome, velcome, my name is Dr. Schneeplestein, I hope you are doing vell." When you heard the usual pleasantry, your brow raised upon detecting the foreign accent. He chuckled at your reaction then turned to place down the information surrounding you. He nodded to you, to which you meekly smiled back. "So, vhat can I help you vith today?"

Just as you had done in the previous room, you shifted uncomfortably. Schneeplestein seemed to notice this and he wore an expression of concern and... confusion. "Vas it somezhing I said?" Your face fell for a second then trickled in with embarrassment. "No, no." You began, sheepishly. "This is gonna sound so stupid," You paused. "Go on." He urged you with a soft voice, in hopes it would soothe your nerves. And it did.

"...uh well, I just don't like the idea of a stranger kinda y'know..." He mused your confession with a stroke at his chin and a cocked brow but just as you felt colour drain away from how it seemed he was silently judging you, he finished off with a warm and quiet laugh. "Ves, ves I completely understand, but zhere is no need to worry my dear. Zhis vill be over soon." Usually, that would've deterred you and you'd just shrug it off as some false promise, but there was something behind the thick accent that made you reconsider. With that, you nodded and placed your trust in his hands.

"Wunderbar!" He leaned back in his chair, content with the arrangement. His exclamation had brought your attention to the way he'd clasped his hands. Slender fingers intertwined, with his right resting atop his left until both hands were horizontally parallel. It was a posture which you'd gathered intellectuals were privy to using. This doctor being no exception. "Now, vhat vas the problem?"

His eyes twinkled at you as he posed the question, exhibiting a genuine wish to help. You smiled and explained your situation. He listened to each word, intently absorbing all the information that left your lips. He nodded occasionally, humming at times when the details were thought-provoking. You weren't a basket case of course, nor were you a patient that needed immediate attention. This was just a simple routine. Just a monthly visit to check your vitals, get a few blood tests and drop off a sample.

You didn't really expect to get your temperature measured, getting your throat examined and you definitely hadn't prepared for an inspection of your heart rate, but here you were, with a raised shirt, waiting for the doctor to place the stethoscope wherever he desired. He'd insisted despite your mentions of your normal check-ups involving nothing of the sort, but well maybe this was just due to the fact different doctors had different methods?

Yeah, that was probably it.

He'd slipped on gloves beforehand; a tight pair that almost seemed to meld with his flesh. You could even see the creases in his fingers beneath the blue material with the way his knuckles popped when he bent them. It almost appeared as just a thicker layer of skin. But the gloves were there and there they'd stay, especially since you soon found out Dr Schneeplestein was quite a stickler for hygiene.

Despite seeing him close in after receiving confirmation of your awareness, you still shivered as the circular instrument pressed against you. You could easily make out each expression that crossed the doctor with your near to no distance between each other, and some had you internally cursing for your sensitivity.

The last thing you thought you'd ever hear your doctor slithered into your ears, and with it, you shuddered a little more.

"Your skin is beautiful."

He withdrew the end of the device and a second almost seemed to last for an eternity as you merely sat there, with your top still lifted. You swore you could feel his eyes travelling over your torso, scrutinising as it sought to identify each intricate detail, each minute feature. Something that the ordinary public would spend little to no time with.

The feeling of rubber alerted you, immediately yanking you away from your train of thought. A stammer began to trickle over your lips, but they merely became a dribble of unidentifiable words. It was just, what one could describe as protesting sounds. But you didn't shy away, you didn't shrink back or try to escape his hand's exploration. No, you stayed there and let him do as he pleased.

Maybe he was trying to confirm with his own hands what he'd heard from using the tool around his neck.

"So soft. So smooth. So perfect." You could feel how your entire body immersed in flames, heating up as if you'd been baking in an oven for hours. Your attention had flitted away from him the second his gloved hand had met your pinkened chest, and it only continued to break away as his breath now tickled your aflame flesh. You couldn't see how close he was, but you knew, he wasn't far.

His other hand soon arrived and you bit your lip as they violated every code that pertained to customer service. But for some reason, unbeknownst to you, you didn't stop him.

He noticed this almost instantly.

With a newfound urge to carry on, Schneeplestein had removed your short-sleeve shirt without much inconvenience, especially when you had raised your arms to assist in its riddance. There was something about the way his hands had swept around you, something about how they were so delicate yet so firm, so sure yet so uncertain. It intrigued you.

And simply put.

It felt good.

You wouldn't call yourself touch-starved, but with the way, you were stripping for this stranger from just the sensation of his light touches? You might've reconsidered.

A silent plea was hidden behind your irises as they switched back to meet the doctor's own perplexing blues, but with an analytical mind such as his, you were fairly sure he'd pick it up.

The next second you found yourself whisked to the bland bed that had minded its own business in the corner, and with a faint creak, you two disturbed its peaceful state. A gasp left once you landed atop its firm surface, and in turn he shot an unsettling yet somehow endearing smile as he loomed over your topless figure. A hum rumbled in his throat and you could spy a sheen crossing his eyes that could've easily been mistaken for the glare against his lenses. But to you, it was unmistakable.

"You know, from zhe minute I laid eyes on you I just couldn't, couldn't control myself around you." You budded like a rose, bursting with an all-consuming scarlet, leaving no trace of your natural skin colour. His eyes twinkled at the sight and you only gulped when they shimmered above you. "I vonder... since you didn't say anyzhing..." His leg slipped between both of yours, bent at the knee, scooting until it was inches away from your core. "And still haven't..."

Was this some fever dream? Surely this wasn't real right? You were just being taken right then and there, here in this bed that was somewhat comfortable despite its appearance. And by a stranger no less. by some doctor, you'd never come across. Maybe, just maybe this was a messed up nightmare; a manifestation of your fear. But then, why were you feeling so weird... so odd... so excited.

"Vell, ve can discuss that later. For now, let us begin zhe examination."

[krreader]

BTS scenario → pranking you and it going wrong.

pairing: bts x reader fandom: bts warnings: language genre: angst ; fluff ; crack

a/n: listen,  if my boyfriend “pranked” me by telling me he got into a car accident I’d kick his ass to the outbacks. there’s a line, you know? so I settled for less intense pranks, I hope you still like it though!

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kim seokjin

Jin and you had been annoying each other all day long.

Your relationship has always been the playful kind and it consisted of a lot of laughing fits, but maybe today was the day that Seokjin finally took it a bit too far.

He was making dinner, a separate portion for you because there was something in this dish today that you didn't particularly like. And because he was making it separately, he saw his opportunity to make yours a.. little spicier.

Just a little.

And then he accidentally put the whole package in and knew that re-doing the whole thing would take too long.

“Ah, she'll be fine,” he muttered to himself, placing the bowl in front of you thirty minutes later when everyone was sitting at the dining table.

The boys were all happily eating, Jin watching you shove spoon after spoon into your mouth with a bit of worry, but also amusement.

And then it finally hit you.

All at once. 

“Oh my god,” you quickly said, grabbing the water in front of you and downing it in one go, but that definitely wasn't enough from the looks of it. Your mouth was on fire, but more importantly, and more worryingly, so was your ass.

And guess who knocked on your door forty minutes later, because you’ve gotten diarrhea from his stupid prank.

“I didn't mean to put in the whole package, just a little bit to make it a little more spicier and to annoy you..-”

“You're going to regret this, Kim,” you yelled, “Just you wait..”

He was so fucked.

min yoongi

Yoongi didn't mean to hurt you, he just thought this was an incredibly funny idea.

He had bought himself a few new pieces of jewelry a few weeks ago and as he was cleaning out his room, he found one of the empty ring boxes.

“Stop standing around and help me clean. This is your room after all, not mine,” you complained when you walked back into his room, but then stopping dead in your tracks when he turned around with the box, “What are you..-”

But Yoongi had already crossed the room and knelt down in front of you as if he was proposing to you, “(Y/N), will you..-”

“YES!” you said before he could even finish the sentence. It wasn't romantic, but it wasn't something you ever thought to happen. So you didn't waste a second of your breath, your mind was already set.

But when he opened the box, a big fat junk of nothing looked back at you. And when your eyes drifted to your boyfriends' he added: “..have sex with me later?”

He was still grinning, but the more your shoulders slumped, the more he realized what a fucking mistake this had been.

You had been dropping hints for years, but he always told you that he wasn't ready for marriage yet. And then he does this? Despite him knowing you wanted to marry him so badly?

You had pretended to laugh, but the fact that you almost ran out of the room so that Yoongi wouldn't see your tears gave away just how much this “prank” had hurt you.

And that had never been his intention.

So even though he still wasn't ready for marriage, he bought you a ring a week later and when he gave it to you, he said: “I love you. And I know that I will only love you for the rest of my life. I will marry you one day, I promise you. When BTS is done, when I'm done with it all.. then you and I will marry. So.. wait for me?”

You did.

With that ring on your finger as a promise.

jung hoseok

You guys were at this really fancy party, everyone mingling and chatting with various celebrities.

Hoseok and Taehyung had found this really cool candle that looked like it was real, but was actually fake. Taehyung had accidentally touched the “flame” and realized that it wasn't a real flame.

And now the two were playing around with it like two little kids, not caring about the fancy shit the venue had provided.

“Imagine if (Y/N) saw you right now,” Taehyung laughed, “She's always so protective of you..-”

“HOSEOK!”

As if on queue, you sprinted towards him and stopped him from reaching out to the flame.

“No, I wasn't..-”

“I swear to god, I can't even go to the bathroom without you doing something stupid!”

“No, but it's not real, look!” he pointed at Taehyung, who was happily holding his entire hand into the flame to prove the point, “We were just playing around with it!”

Almost giving you a heart attack in the process wasn't really worth it, though.

kim namjoon

He had gotten the idea a while ago, as all those fake articles about a possible FRIENDS reunion had come out.

He just wanted to prank you a little, he didn't mean for you to react that way.

“BABE!” he ran into the room and held out his phone, some random article being on display, “THEY'RE GOING TO MAKE ANOTHER GAME OF THRONES SEASON!”

“What?!” you pushed your laptop away and pushed yourself out of his bed, nearly falling in the process, then ripping the phone out of his hand only to read an article about how to help you poop better.

“Got you,” Namjoon grinned, but then his eyes widened when he saw how angry you suddenly became.

And then it turned into this huge ass pillow fight, which was actually just you throwing all of his Ryan plushies into his face until they were all lying on the floor and occasionally telling him how much you hated him for tricking you like this.

park jimin

Spiders were fascinating, but there was a reason that people thought they were creepy. And honestly, even someone who says they're not afraid of them would shit their pants in a situation like that.

Jimin had bought the rubber spider at this prank store while he had been on tour. Thought it would come in handy sometime, or he just thought it looked so real that he simply had no choice but to buy it.

Whatever his reasoning, you hated him for it.

Him and you were watching a movie on his bed when he pulled out the ugly thing. He was either really sneaky, or you were simply too entranced by the movie, so you didn't notice it.

You felt something brush against your shoulder, then your arm and as you were turning your head to the side to check what it was, he let it fall onto your lap and it looked so, so real..-

You immediately screamed, jumped up and ran out of the room, leaving a laughing Jimin behind, literally rolling on the floor from how funny he thought this was.

But what had been so incredibly funny at first suddenly wasn't so funny anymore when his girlfriend didn't want to spend the night in his bed, but in Jin's instead.

“Hyung, she's my girlfriend,” Jimin tried to argue, trying to push past him inside his bedroom.

“And she's my best friend. She doesn't want to see you tonight, she's still shaking from your ridiculous prank.”

“This is ridiculous..- (Y/N), come on. Talk to me, please.”

“Go jerk off to your spider, Jimin,” you yelled from within the room, “I'll stay right here in this comfortable spider-free bed.”

Yeah, that prank didn't go according to plan at all.

kim taehyung

Taehyung was only playing around like the little kid that he could sometimes be, he wasn't thinking rationally that his girlfriend was an adult and that when she would see him like this, she would lose her goddamn mind.

His manager has had surgery on his knee a few weeks ago and was here to visit him and the boys. And while the 'grown-ups' were talking, Taehyung was walking up and down the hallway with his crutches, despite knowing that you'd show up at any second.

And when you did and the first thing you saw was Taehyung with the crutches, one foot raised as if he had genuinely hurt himself? 

You lost it.

“What the hell happened?!” you dropped your bag and sprinted towards him, observing his features to see if there were any other injuries on his body.

But Taehyung just chuckled and shook his head, quickly putting the crutches aside and grabbing your hands to kiss them.

“I'm fine, (Y/N). They're not mine.”

He nodded towards his manager, a bandage wrapped around his knee that signalized he was the one with the injury and not your boyfriend.

You hit Taehyung’s chest, your own heaving heavily from how scared you had been for a second, “You're such an asshole. You don't play around with crutches! How old even are you?! 8?!”

Sometimes, yeah.

jeon jeongguk

A fan had given him the air horn today at a fan meet, he had been scaring people all day long with it, annoying literally everyone that he knew.

Only one had been spared so far, but he was about to change that.

He was waiting behind the door of his room, knew you had arrived when he heard you and Namjoon do small-talk in the living room.

And when the door finally got opened he pressed the air horn and..-

“Jeongguk, what the fuck?!” Namjoon yelled out, immediately rushing to your side as you had fallen down and hit your head on the door handle.

So what had started as him just wanting to scare his girlfriend, ended in him having to drive his girlfriend to the ER because she had to get stitches.

“(Y/N), I'm so sorry,” he looked so awful, regret clearly visible on his face.

“I know you didn't do it on purpose,” you sighed, contorting your face when the doctor continued to clean the wound, “Just.. try to be more careful, okay?”

Oh, that he would be.

[fiddlesolo]

(In the Esme au that you’re writing) Carlisle telling her that he is a vampire? I don’t know if you were planning to post it in the future but I was really curious

Carlisle hadn’t been home in days.

He kept making excuses for himself- the hospital was short-staffed, there was a medical conference, etc. All of those excuses existed to protect himself from the probing he knew his children would do.

Edward’s gift aside, they knew him. They would be able to tell that something was different. Carlisle felt different, was thinking differently.

All of those changes existed because of her.

After spending that lunch together on her first day of painting the pediatric wing of the hospital, they’d made an unspoken agreement to spend every lunch hour together.

Carlisle would listen and ask her all sorts of questions about her work, about the plans she had for each room. She’d talk and talk for as long as she could about it. She was so captivating, her excitement infectious.

He found himself drawn to her more and more each day. Her scent sent a thrill through his body, the sound of her heart a calming melody. He could pick it out of a crowd of other humans.

While they did a great deal of talking about their work, they both had remained rather quiet about their personal lives. She had a son, that much he knew, and she knew of his ‘children’. Aside from those details, they both seemed to cling to their secrecy. He did so for obvious reasons but he wondered what it was holding Esme back.

Was she nervous? She didn’t seem to be too shy but he couldn’t be sure. Perhaps she was only forthcoming about work that excited her so much. Maybe she simply didn’t like him, didn’t trust him to know about anything more than her work.

He wasn’t sure why but the idea of her not trusting him hurt. He didn’t know why he cared so deeply for a human but he did- he couldn’t deny that any longer.

After a week of lunch breaks together, Esme seemed to have gathered some courage before he himself could do so.

“So, have you always lived around here?” She asked out of the blue, reaching out to take a french fry from the plate sitting between them.

“No, I just moved here a few years ago.” Carlisle told her, happy with the fact that it was actually the truth. He found that he absolutely hated lying to her even when it was necessary to do so.

She smiled slightly. “So did I.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Esme said. “I was pregnant with Joseph.”

“Wow. That must have been difficult.” When she didn’t respond, he went on. “Where are you from?”

She was quiet for a moment, as if she was considering her answer. “Ohio.” Esme finally said, moving her french fry through the small pool of ranch dressing she’d made on her plate. “What about you?”

“London.” Carlisle said after a moment- he’d never told a human that before. He always claimed to be from some random US state.

“Really? I couldn’t even tell! You don’t have an accent.”

Carlisle chuckled. “It’s faded over time. It only comes out when I’m tired or...lecturing Emmett.”

“One of your sons?” She asked him, her tone curious as she took another fry. When he nodded, she went on. “Tell me about your kids. If you don’t mind, that is.”

“Not at all. Edward came to live with me first. Then Rosalie and Emmett after that. Alice was the last one.”

“How old are they?”

“Edward and Alice are 16.” Carlisle told her after just a second of recalling whatever age they were going with at the present time. “Rosalie is 17 and Emmett is 18.”

“Oh, wow.” She commented. “Your house must be fun. That many teenagers?”

Carlisle chuckled. “It’s chaos.”

“I love chaos.” She teased. “My son’s adorable but he’s a little tasmanian devil.”

“Does he get that from his mother?”

Esme smiled coyly, shrugging. “Maybe.”

Days went by similarly. They chatted happily, enjoying each other’s company without revealing too much. She had her own secrets. Knowing that she was holding back made lying to her just a bit easier.

One afternoon, Carlisle was leaving the hospital. He planned on going for a quick hunt up north and then returning for his evening rounds. If he left, the other doctors would believe that he was sleeping a bit at home.

He was desperately thirsty. He’d found that he needed to hunt more often now. Esme’s blood was more tempting than he’d care to admit and while he trusted his control, he refused to take any chances. Not now. Not with her.

Just as he stepped out of the building, he caught the scent of a bear. It wasn’t often that they wandered so close to civilization so Carlisle was a bit excited. Deer were okay but bears were far more appetizing.

He quickly made his way into the forest, chasing after the speed at a vampiric pace once he was out of human view.

As he moved deeper into the forest, he caught up to the bear and tackled it to the forest floor. His teeth pierced its neck before he began to drain the animal of blood.

Just as he was almost finished, a familiar scent made him freeze. The sound of a heartbeat filling his ears. Was he going mad? Was her scent just following him now? There was no possible way for her to sneak up on him like th-

“Carlisle?” Came what was quickly becoming his very favorite voice in the world.

He sat hunched over the bear, considering his next move. How could he have been so reckless? He’d been so consumed with his thirst, with thoughts of her that he’d let his guard down. His vampire instincts failed to recognize that a human was following him.

He heard the crunching of leaves beneath her feet as she stepped closer to him. “I know it’s you.”

“Stay back.” He muttered quickly, dropping the dead bear before standing.

Esme only eyed him curiously. He’d expected fear, disgust. “Why?”

“It’s dangerous.”

“It’s dead.”

“Not the bear.” He said. “Me.”

Esme bit her bottom lip, considering him as a few seconds ticked by. Before Carlisle could say another word, she stepped forward and stepped backward.

“Esme.” His tone was a warning one now. He’d never done this before. He was scared. He’d never stood face to face with a human in such a way, had never revealed himself. “Please.”

“What are you?” Esme asked. She didn’t take another step closer but she didn’t back away either. She pulled her winter coat tighter around herself, lifting a hand to tuck some of her curls back behind her ear. “What you did- that’s not human.”

Carlisle’s gaze was practically pleading. Taking in the sight of the woman before him- her gentle eyes, the billows of hair that he loved so much, the pink clinging to her cheeks. He didn’t want to do this to her, didn’t want to change her entire worldview. She didn’t deserve to be plagued with the knowledge that monsters walked among her. And what if the Volturi were to find out that she knew? His old friend was ruthless, hated Carlisle. He’d harm Esme just for fun.

“Let me see if I’ve got this right.” She murmured, taking another careful step forward. She looked down at the bear, eyeing the blood trickling from its neck. “You drink blood. You always wear long sleeves. I’ve never seen you look even remotely sleepy. You never step foot in the sun.”

“How long have you been watching?” Carlisle asked her. She’d been more observant than he ever thought.

“As long as you’ve been watching me.”

The two locked eyes. Carlisle fought back the foreign urge to touch her. He’d never been one to actively want to touch humans, to be drawn to another person in some way. Something in Esme’s big brown eyes told him that the same could be said for her.

“I don’t want you to know of our kind. You deserve a world free of monsters.”

“I’ve met monsters before, Carlisle. You’re not one of them.”

“Vampire.” He finally murmured. “That is what I am.”

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