#suffice it to say i am extremely happy i wound up with the name i did and was not amab

[shadow-assassin-blix]

A Picture is a Poem Without Words

CHAPTER 7

A/N: Okay. So this one is a long one. It’s like 10k. Many things happen. A lot of family drama but fluff to even it out. So we see the return of Javier and Horacio, briefly along with some Steve. Escobar and Valeria appear and are not viewed in great light. (Valeria is not my favorite character tbh).

Warnings: Okay. So. There is some childhood abuse talked about, nothing in extreme detail but I marked when it begins and when its safe again. There’s a brief mention of an attempted assault, not detailed just implied. Um. 

As always: “Speak” “Spanish” ‘Thoughts’

She had cleaned up the house for the most part and was satisfied with the work she had done. She had just started to sit down when there was a knock on her. She made her way to the door, answering it.

“Salcedo? What brings you here?” She asked surprised.

“Pacho wants you close by. Escobar is not happy and Pacho is worried that you may be a target,” He quickly explained.

She sighed, somewhat annoyed, “And I’m guessing I don’t have much of a choice in this matter?”

Salcedo gave her an apologetic look.

“Let me go get some things. I have 2 boxes of mail to go through so that shall be coming with us,” She tells him quickly.

She handed him the box of cards, letters and small gifts. He took it with a nod and another guard came up and took the heavier box from her family in New York. She grabbed some of her own clothes, and necessities packing them into a suitcase quickly. Once she was ready, they drove her to Pacho’s home.

She walked in, noticing the brothers were there with Pacho. She sees Alvaro sitting next to him reading a book, a notepad near him for when he stopped to write every so often.

She made her way over to the couch, taking the open seat by Pacho quietly. He continued to speak to Miguel about something, the only sign that he gave that he noticed she was there, was his hand coming to rest on her knee.

Salcedo and Córdova set her boxes near her, before taking her suitcase upstairs to her room.

While they talked, she began opening cards. Most of them were from other fighters, who wished her a happy birthday and told her they missed her.

Some had cash stuffed in their cards. Others they sent a gift, that was in the form of a fox. She lined up several trinkets, shakers, towels, and such, all fox themed.

Gilberto asked with a laugh, “Why do you have so many foxes, little one?”

“It’s a long story…” She said with a shake of her head.

She had eventually gotten through all of the birthday wishes, and all that was left was regular mail, so she set the box aside for now.

She walked over to the heavier box, laying it down flat. She pulled out a knife to cut the tape that sealed it. As she pulled open the flats, the first thing she saw was a note resting near a some brand new boxing gloves.

She quickly pulled them with an excited squeak.

“Yesss. Been needing a new pair,” She mumbled throwing a glove on to see how it fit.

She clenched her fist a few times, checking it out. Once she was satisfied, she set them gently onto the coffee table. She turned back to the box and noticed there was plain white box sitting in there as well, so she set it and the note aside for a moment.  She cleared away the tissue to find bubble wrap and it was tightly wound across the large item that was inside.

She gently cut down the sides of the cardboard box, so it was completely flat. She then gently lifted the item up and began to unwrap it one-handed.

She slowly revealed a shadow box, that had her old fight outfit, a few news articles, and her first pair of gloves pinned inside.

“The Silver Vixen?” Came Pacho’s voice as he walked up to get a closer look at it.

“That was my fight name,” She said softly staring at the items inside fondly.

She looked up, and gently waved over a couple guards, asking them to put it some place safe for her. They did, carrying it off to the side. She turned to the white box and note.

She opened the note reading it quickly.

‘Hey sis, on the off chance that you ever come back home, we figured you should have the proper gear and attire beforehand. Love you, Happy Birthday! – Jack & Andy’

“Oh lord,” She whispered as she realized what exactly was in the white box.

Pacho raised an eyebrow, looking at her expectantly.

“Well. Go on. Show us,” His voice was teasing.

She pulled the lid off, shoved the tissue paper away and pulled out a sports bra, a pair of shorts, and a silk robe, all in a dark silver. All embellished with the words “Silver Fox” in white stitching.

“You never told me you were a fighter,” Pacho noted staring at the items.

“I mean… I only did like 10 tournaments/matches,” She waved it off.

“Uh huh. And how many did you lose?” Gilberto asked with a teasing smile.

She looked every which direction, not making eye contact as she not so casually scratched her face, before holding up one finger.

“One? You lost one match?” Miguel asked with a shake of his head.

“Yeah. I did it for a year… during my last match, there was an FBI recruiter in the crowd, and he told me I should apply. So… I did,” She explained briefly, retaking her seat. “And now here I am.”

Pacho leaned over and quietly whispered, “I find that strangely sexy. I might have to see some of these moves of yours.”

She shook her head, smiling at him somewhat embarrassed.

“I’m really not that good. Just… quick,” She replied modestly.

As they resumed talking about business, she grabbed the rest of her mail at the bottom of the box.

She quickly flicked through them, determining them to be junk mail. She checked the box and saw a manilla envelope at the bottom, she grabbed it setting it to the side as she dumped her cards and gifts back into the box, tossing the fighting outfit in there as well.

She was following along with their conversation, as she set the somewhat thick envelope onto her lap.

She looked down at it, her breath catching in her throat as she noticed the address. She swallowed thickly as her hands pulled the plain envelope off, turning it around to open it.

She opens it with somewhat shaky hands, and sees a newspaper sticking out of it. She pulls it out, unfolding it. After flipping it over, she noted it was the local newspaper from her hometown. More specifically, the obituary section. Her eyes drifted down to the column smacked dab in the middle of the page.

‘Aurelia Lage, 59, passed away…’

That was all she was able to read before she dropped the paper. She stood up suddenly and walked into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of tequila before walking outside.

Pacho, grabbed the newspaper that she had dropped, searching it for answers. He quickly found it, recognizing the last name. He sets the paper down and grabs the manila envelope and slowly follows her outside.

She was sitting on the grass, the bottle of tequila resting between her legs. Her face was pale, and she was trembling.

He slowly made his way over to her, sitting by her side. He watched her take a long drink, with a small grimace.

“Your mother?” He prompted quietly.

Blix nodded her head.

“I. I don’t know how to feel. Relieved? Happy? Numb? How does one feel, knowing that the person who hated your entire existence is dead?” She asked rhetorically.

She sighed heavily, knowing she had to finally tell him everything.

“My mother… She uh… had my sisters with her first husband. He died… and she went on the hunt for husband number 2,” She began with a scoff.

“She found him in the mayor of our fair town. A married man, mind you. He and his wife… were having trouble conceiving a child. That was the kind of woman my mother was. She saw a woman, who tried and tried to have kids, and saw it as a weakness to take advantage of,” Blix said bitterly. “They had their affair. She got pregnant, but uhh… so did his wife. His wife had a healthy baby boy… a month after I was born. Do you know what it’s like to have sibling who has no idea you exist?”

Pacho didn’t respond, he just wrapped an arm around her, pulling her in close.

TRIGGER WARNING

“Suffice it to say, the mayor left my mother. And me. The… abuse… started slowly. I would get in trouble far more often than my sisters, even if I wasn’t involved. Time outs were longer. Which slowly led to her locking me in my room… and starving me for days. My sisters… they tried to help, but I didn’t want them to get in trouble…” She took a deep breath, having to steal her nerves to explain the next part.

“When that longer worked, it became physical. I’m not going to explain all of it… but it came to a head when I was 15. She threw a vase at me. It broke against my face. I uhh. I needed 100 stitches to close the wounds,” She stuttered, sniffling as tears began to fall.

TW END

“I grabbed what money I had hidden, from doing odd jobs around the neighborhood. Ran away, once the stitches were out. I made my way to New York. Got busted with some other kids with stolen goods. Judge sent me to a group home and made me go to therapy. That lasted a month,” She snorted at the memory.

“Was about 19. Trying to find shelter from the rain. A couple of guys… cornered me. It was pretty obvious… what they had planned. Tried to fight them off. The owner of the building we were next to, heard the commotion. Scared them off. Took me in. Gave me a job at his gym. Made me get my GED. Was his best fighter for a year, before I became an FBI agent. Traveled the world. Landed here...” She trailed off.

“Met a man who, while a commitment-phobe, taught me to love myself as is. Then I ran into you… and the past 2 months? Have been the happiest I’ve been in a long time,” She stated, looking at him.

Pacho smiled softly, beckoning her to him. She slowly crawls into his lap; she goes to bury her face into his shoulder but stops.

“I’m going to ruin your shirt,” She mumbled.

“Honey. I can literally buy 20 of these. I don’t care if you ruin it,” He informed her quietly, running his hand through her hair.

She stared at him for a moment, before slowly burying her face into him, as smalls sobs began to rake through her body. He quietly shushed her, running his hands up and down her back.

She’s not sure how long she sat like, but by the time her tears became small sniffles, she was exhausted. She slowly pulled away, rubbing her face to dry it off.

Pacho slowly pulls the envelope forward, asking, “Do you want me to open it?”

She nodded her head, “It’s her will for sure, but I don’t know what else is in it.”

“How do you know that?” Pacho inquired as he gently opened it.

“The name. Whit Jacobson? He does all of the will and testaments. He also runs the funeral home and crematorium. ‘Your one stop shop, for when a family member drops.’” She mocked, her eyes rolling.

Pacho paused in his movements, “Please do not tell me… that was his slogan?”

She nodded her head, smiling tightly.

Pacho shook his head, pulling out the documents inside. She took it with shaky hands, looking it over. She noticed almost immediately… that it was off. There were large gaps between each paragraph and some sentences even cut off halfway through a word.

“Great. Now I need lawyer to help me deal with this bullshit,” She muttered annoyed.

She looked back toward Pacho’s hand as he pulled out a few stacks of photos. She froze as she looked at them. The first photo in each stack, was of one of her sisters. A small smile appeared as she examined them.

“Your sisters?” Pacho realized, noticing how they all resembled one another.

“This is Lily, Hope and Darla,” She pointed them out with a sigh. “Lily is the sweetest, Hope the craziest, and Darla, the oldest, is the serious one.”

“They sound lovely… but none of them could hold a candle to you,” He said sweetly.

She smiled shyly at that, and gently placed the photos back into the envelope, swearing to look at them more closely later, and put the will back in as well. Pacho made her stand up and led her over to one of the outside tables and told her to wait there.

A few minutes later, he walked back outside with a plate of food and two forks. He sat down in one of the seats and pulled her into his lap.

“Eat. Need to soak up some of that tequila you’ve been drinking,” He teased her handing her a fork.

She shook her head and took a few bites. The two of them quietly ate, occasionally playfully fighting over a piece with their forks.

Halfway through, he slowly stopped, pulling away slightly. She looked at him confused, setting her fork down, turning her attention to him.

“The last thing… my father ever said to me, was that I will never be a man. He told me this after he caught me with a neighbor boy. I was 16 and he threw me out on the streets,” He slowly began, a bitterness in his tone.

“I began working with the Cali soon after. Worked my way up the ranks. At one point… another guy, was pissed that I was doing so well. Ratted me out to the Gilberto & Miguel. Told them I wasn’t man enough, that I didn’t belong. Do you know what they did?” Pacho asked her.

She shook her head.

“They made me partner. All I am, all I have is because of them,” Pacho ended with a sigh.

She started to say something but stopped herself, voting to instead take another bite of food.

“What?” Pacho lightly asked.

She paused before mentioning, “That day… in the hotel? When we talked about the surrender? You made a face or.. maybe it was your tone… but I had feeling that you weren’t thrilled by the idea. It makes more sense now. The cartel. It’s allowed you to live how you want, without restraint or fear. Without it, what are you left with?”

He gave a short laugh, nodding his head. “You noticed that, but fail to notice several men eyeing you like your hottest thing they’ve ever seen?”

“I notice what’s important, silly. Those guys? In the long run, mean nothing to me. You, on the other hand, mean a great deal to me,” She whispered pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Also. Who was this asshole that tried to out you? Need to know in case I need to stab a hoe,” She half-joked.

“A Salvador, no one of importance to be honest. But I appreciate you wishing to defend my honor,” He laughed.

“I’m going to go to bed. Do you mind if I crash in yours? Don’t… want to be alone,” She said soberly.

He nodded his head, giving her a kiss. “I’ll join you in a little bit, alright?”

She smiled and stood up, making her way inside. She was on autopilot making her way upstairs, she didn’t even bother stopping by her room. She stepped into Pacho’s bedroom, making her way over to his closet. She grabbed one of his plain long sleeve button-ups. She stripped down to just her underwear and threw the shirt on.

She went into the bathroom to clean her face and do her business. A few minutes later, she had crawled under the covers, holding one of the pillows closely to her as she quickly fell asleep.

Downstairs, Pacho walked into the living room, sighing heavily.

“What happened?” Gilberto asked curious.

“She was informed in not so many words, that her psychotic mother passed away. She needs a lawyer to look at this will, it’s terribly edited and I’m sure someone was trying to pull a fast one,” He briefly informed him, dropping the will onto the coffee table.

“We will get ours right on it. Go to her. Gilberto and I will crash here tonight, and make phone calls in the morning, okay?” Miguel stated firmly standing up with Gilberto.

“Careful Miguel. It almost sounds like you care about her?” Gilberto teased.

“She’s a good girl and she’s good for you. She’s the Lady of Cali after all,” Miguel pointed out looking at Pacho, referencing her newly acquired nickname.

Pacho nodded and bid them goodnight. Alvaro looked at his brother and noticed he was fidgeting.

“You told her about our father,” He stated more than asked.

Pacho looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re fidgeting. You only ever do after talking about him,” Alvaro explained nodding towards Pacho’s hands.

Pacho had no response to that, and just smiled tightly.

“Go get some rest little brother,” Pacho recommended after a moment, making his way to the stairs.

When he got to his bedroom, he paused, staring at Blix who was in the middle of the bed, passed out. He noted with a soft smile that she was in one of his shirts. He quietly got ready for bed, and as he slid in next to her, she turned over, reaching for him.

He settled in, pulling her close, listening to her sigh happily as she snuggled into his arms. He noticed after a moment, Diego standing at the doorway.

Diego had come up after one of the guards who had been patrolling outside, overheard their conversation and relayed it to several others.

He strips down to just his boxer, and gently, hesitantly, lays behind her, wrapping an arm around her. She blearily looked at his arm, noticing the extra warmth, and just slowly held it to her.

Once she was back to sleep, Diego quietly asked, “How is she so nice? Survived all of that, and… is not bitter at the world?”

Pacho hummed, “I think she’s more bitter than she lets on. She just doesn’t want the world to see it. We can talk later. I don’t want to wake her up.”

Diego nodded his head, and the two of them slowly fell asleep.

When Blix woke up the next morning, she was slightly disoriented. Her eyes blinked open slowly, confused as to why she was so warm. She glanced down and noticed two different arms were wrapped around her waist. Looking to her left and right, she spotted Pacho and Diego, sleeping contently on either side of her.

She smiled, reaching up to rub the sleep out of her eyes. When her vision was cleared, she spotted Alvaro waiting by the door, smirking at the sight before him.

“Hey,” She softly greeted.

“Good morning. Your phone’s been ringing, I figured you should probably answer it,” Alvaro greeted, showing her phone in his hand.

She nodded, gently sitting up, trying not to wake either men. She eventually stood up, and gingerly walked toward the end of the bed, stepping off once she got there.

She whispered a thank you as she took her phone. She noticed that Steve, Javier, and Theo had tried calling her.

She calls Theo, and once he answered asked, “What the hell happen?”

“It’s a shitshow boss. Escobar surrendered but his terms are laughable. He built his own prison and DEA can do fuck all about it. But now, the embassy is under a microscope. All staff must report in to discuss the new changes. You are wanted by 1pm boss,” Theo said rushed.

“Shit. Umm. Okay. Its 9:30? Okay, I can be there by 1. I’ll see ya then,” She answered hanging up and rushing into her bedroom.

She grabbed some black slacks, and a silk blouse from the closet, tossing them and some heels onto the bed, while she raced to get herself ready. She didn’t have time to get a shower in, so she cleaned her face, threw on a dash of makeup and healthy amount of deodorant/perfume.

She threw her hair into a slightly messy bun and tossed the shirt she was wearing to the floor. She grabbed a bra and got dressed in minutes. She tossed her FBI badge around her neck, made sure her IDs were in her messenger bag, and after securing her gun into its holster, slipped it onto her hip.

She jumped into her shoes, grabbing her bag and phone, moving quickly downstairs.

“Alvaro? Please tell your brother I will be in Bogota for the day!” She called out as she passed him.

She saw Salcedo and a few others getting into a car.

“Hey, Salcedo! Mind if I bum a ride to the airport with you guys?” She asked as she caught up to them.

Salcedo replied, “Of course. Get in.”

She hopped in, taking a seat next to Navegante. They took her to the airport, making small talk.

Two hours later, and she was standing in front of the American Embassy. She made her way inside, stopping briefly to check on her team, since they were all assembled in their water closet sized office.

Her team gave her a stack of files to go through, and a few reports she needed to sign off.

She took them with her as she walked into the conference room that was crowded with members from every department.

When she stepped in, the attention turned to her.

Her director commented, “Nice to see you finally join us Agent Lage.”

She went to apologize but a random agent, one from CIA felt the need to mutter loudly, “Too busy whoring around I’d bet.”

Her eyes narrowed, and a tight smile formed on her face, ignoring the chuckles.

“I’m sorry if I am a bit late director. I was informed of a death in my family last night,” She spoke plainly.

The director looked at her with sympathy, and said, “My condolences. Please be sure to stay the full meeting. Many things are to be discussed.”

She nodded her head and turned her gaze to the man who spoke before, “I’m sorry. Were you trying to say something earlier? Couldn’t quite hear you over your mumbling? If you have something to say, say it to my face like a man. That way at least when I knock you on your ass, you can have some dignity.”

She smiled somewhat viciously when he turned red and backed away into the crowd.

She moved toward Javier and Steve who were leaning against the wall, waiting.

A few minutes passed, before the room began to clear out. Soon it was just 2 members of each department. When they all took their seats, they were informed that Ambassador Noonan has retired.

“I am to be your new ambassador and things are going to change around here,” Arthur Crosby spoke firmly.

He laid out the new guidelines, especially for the DEA. He told them that everyone will be setting up in Medellin in a new office.

He eventually turned his attention to her and Theo.

“I want the both of you to bring me up to speed about these museum robberies,” He demanded looking at them expectantly.

“Our suspect is Augustus König. He’s wanted around the world for numerous robberies. We have narrowed down a list of potential warehouses that he may be using to hideout, and store everything he’s stolen. As far as we are aware, he hasn’t sold any of the items,” Blix began speaking.

“… and… He knows who I am. We ran into each other the other day. I don’t think he’s aware of the other members of my team, but he made me well aware that he doesn’t fear law enforcement,” She concluded hesitantly.

Theo looked at her surprised.

Stechner snorted, “Hm. Was that… before or after your little trip to Medellin the other day?”

She looked at him and asked, “Is there something you’d like to say?”

“Hmm. No, just find it interesting that both you and the Cali Cartel were seen in Medellin around the same time,” He said with feigned innocence.

“Are you having me followed?” She accused her face hardening. “Ambassador, I apologize but this is something I would like addressed. Seeing as how, my lovely… coworkers here… had no qualms about leaking my dossier to said cartel, and your predecessor knew about it.”

Crosby raised his hand to stop Stechner from speaking, “Listen, all of you. The priority is the Medellin cartel and the Communists. No more spying on other agencies, if there is not a valid concern. No more arguments. No more fights.”

He stared pointedly at Blix when he said the last line.

“Now, if this König is indeed aware of you Agent Lage, then I would hope you are taking the necessary precautions to make sure this doesn’t blow up in our face. The Colombians would have a field day if they learned we were the reason for millions of dollars of priceless art was lost forever because of a minor mistake,” Crosby returned to the subject at hand, subtly warning her to not mess up.

She nodded her head in affirmation. They spoke more next steps, and toward the end her phone began to go off.

She winced and quietly answered it, “Hello?”

“Miss Lage? This is Alan Starkman, Pacho called me to look over your will?” Came a male voice.

“Oh. Um. Do you mind if I call you back in about 10 minutes, I am in the middle of a meeting?” She requested trying to end the phone call quickly.

“Sure,” He replied before hanging up.

She rolls her eyes and puts her phone back into her pocket. “Sorry. Lawyer.”

They finished up the meeting without further interruptions and as she stepped out, she turned to the ambassador.

“Uh. Sir. Just a quick note, I am having to deal with some nonsense regarding my mother’s will, and I may have to make a trip to Georgia to fix things,” She spoke quietly.

“Do what you need to do. You have my condolences as well,” He remarked making his way to his office.

She nodded her in appreciation but was internally grimacing.

She quickly called the lawyer back, who was quick to inform her that many things were off. He has it set for them to meet with Whit Jacobson at 1pm tomorrow in Georgia, with her sisters.

She thanked him for his help and said she’d meet him tomorrow at the airport.

Once that was done, she sighed heavily. This was not how she expected her day to go.

She worked on the files she had at hand, finishing them up in an hour, when Javier appeared at her desk.

“You finish?” He quietly asked.

She nodded her head, he told her to come with him.

She does so, following him to his truck. They drove for a while before pulling up to a familiar home, where the car out front was packed full of suitcases.

“Horacio has been reassigned. Figured you’d want to say goodbye before he’s shipped to Spain,” Javier tells her.

She kissed his cheek in thanks and stepped out. She walked up to the door, knocking on the frame, and calling out “Anyone home?”

She hears two sets of feet running toward her and was almost knocked off her feet when two small bodies ran into her.

“Ah! My favorites! How are you my loves?” She exclaimed picking them both up in her arms and waddling with them into the living room.

They tell her they were sad that they had to leave. “Oh, I’m very sad too. I may have to steal you and take you to Cali with me.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Julianna remarked as she walked over. “I might let you.”

Blix laughed as she put them down, giving Julianna a hug in greeting.

“He’s out back,” Julianna tells her nodding her head toward the backyard.

Blix slowly made her way to him outside. He was staring off into the distance, hands in his pockets.

“Hey old man,” She greeted, lightly teasing him.

He turned around to face, a small smile on his face. She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him. He returns it muttering, “Hey, brat.”

She hugged him for a solid minute, not really wanting to let go, but she didn’t want to make it weird.

She pulled away with a sigh, asking in disbelief, “They’re really reassigning you to Spain?”

He nodded his head, and opened his mouth to respond when he stopped, moving his hand to tilt her chin up. He examined her face with a frown.

“Have you been crying, little fox?” He asked concerned.

“I found out my mother died… and I have to go back home to Georgia to fix some bullshit concerning her will,” She muttered quietly, breaking her gaze with his.

He sighed softly, before leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead. He was one of the few people she had confided in about what had happened to her when she was young. In that moment, she looked so small and though she did her best to hide it, he could tell she was scared.

“What do you need me to do? Need me to go with you tomorrow? I’ve been told I can be quite intimidating,” He offered her.

“You’ve been told huh?” She repeated with a teasing smile.

“I appreciate the offer, but… this is something I need to face alone. You always said that my past will try to catch up to me. Well. It has,” She denied his offer with a shake of her head.

“Doesn’t mean you should go through it alone. I know we butted heads a lot in the beginning, but you’ve become a kid sister to me. If you need me, you can always call me. Day or night,” Horacio informed her sweetly.

She felt her nose twinge and lip tremble, as she tried to not cry in front of him. She couldn’t quite speak, so she just simply threw her arms around him in another hug. He chuckled quietly and hugged her back.

She stepped back after a moment, sniffling softly, trying to calm herself.

“I’ll miss you,” She whispered.

He threw an arm around her shoulder, mumbling into her hair that he would miss her as well, as they walked back inside.

She said her goodbyes to everyone and made her way back to Javier in his truck. Javier drove her to his apartment after that, and she sat somewhat numbly on his couch as he made lunch.

A sandwich and some chips were presented to her, and she took it with a soft ‘thank you.’

He sat next to her, throwing on some tv, a movie of some sorts. The two of them quietly ate, setting their plates on the coffee table once they were both done. She was vaguely aware that he had on Star Wars.

She slowly rested her head against his shoulder, he held her hand in response. She quietly told him what was going on with her family. He was quiet the entire time, listening to her. When she was finished, he didn’t react at first. He surprised her when he suddenly pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her tightly. He held her close, and that’s how they sat for most of the day.

When evening rolled around, she made a few phone calls that she needed to do before tomorrow. When it came around time to go to bed, she collapsed on top of him once he was laying down on the bed.

“At some point… I do want to talk about you... about… that phone call I made… a while back. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable that night. I do…think about us… Probably more often than I should, given I was the asshole who called it off,” Javier voice spoke out into the darkness.

“…I think about it too… but maybe for now… it’s a good thing we are not together. We both have very different priorities when it comes to our jobs. Maybe… in the future we could talk about this more in detail,” She requested politely, even though in her head, she didn’t know if a future with Javier would happen. Not with the feelings she had for Pacho.

He nodded his head, “Yeah. This whole thing with Escobar… is… draining. I’d rather you didn’t witness any of the fallout. As ridiculous as it sounds, you’re safer in Cali.”

She thought in her head, ‘Yeah. Especially when I’m dating a Gentleman.’

They fell asleep and the next morning, she slipped out. Getting dressed in what she wore yesterday, before heading out to the airport. She met with the lawyer, an older man who was a bit on thicker side. He gave her a bag of clothes to change into, before they hopped into one of the cartels personal planes.

She made her way toward the bathroom, relieved to see there was a small shower. She cleaned herself off before looking into the bag that she was handed. As she changed, she noted that Pacho was probably the one who picked out the outfit. It was a black button-down silk shirt, with black pencil skirt that went past her knees, with a matching pair of black pumps.

She walked out feeling fresh as their flight made its course. The trip took 5hrs and soon they had landed. She grimaced with disdain at the humidity and the heat. They got into a car and made their way to Willow’s Creek, Georgia.

She made some calls on her way there and as they parked outside the courthouse, after driving into town, she let her lawyer walk in first to finish up her calls.

Minutes later, she was walking, and stopped just next to the conference room where she could Jacobson complaining that he was being scammed and what an outrage this was.

“Indeed, Whit… what an outrage?” She mocked stepping inside.

She momentarily froze when she saw her sisters, whose faces all lit up as they took her in.

“This,” She set her copy of the will down before them. “Was what he sent me. And just glancing at the original, you see that I was given forged document.”

Darla, was the first to move, taking the will into her hands and looking at with growing outrage.

“What the hell is this Whit?” Came her voice, deeper than she remembered, but with a hint of sultry.

“Whit… here. You what? Thought I was an idiot? That I would sign this blindly? Hmm?” She questioned, turning her attention to him, as he nervously stuttered.

“It’s a shame… especially when,” She pulled out her badge presenting it to him. “I’m a federal agent. It’s a bigger shame that… I had to cash in a couple of favors with the White-Collar division. Because if you were willing to screw me over…. How many other families did you do this to?”

Behind her, in the office, several agents had begun to enter and were seizing everything.

“I would nev-” Whit began to deny.

“Uh huh. It’s interesting that a man who barely makes 30k a year is able to afford a Porsche and the house you own… Are you really going to keep denying this?” Blix smiled victoriously.

An agent came in serving a warrant, arresting him. She waved goodbye as he passed her.

“Is this the original?” She asked turning around to face her sisters who looked at her in shock.

Lily nodded her head. Blix grabbed her pen from her bag and quickly signed the will with a sigh.

When it was done, she looked at Starkman and requested, “You’ll get me a copy of this, yeah?”

He nodded his with a smug smile, “There are some assets that do need to be discussed. Ladies?”

Blix reluctantly sat down across from them, and said, “Shoot.”

Lily spoke first, “Well. Um. We all discussed that the ranch and everything should go to you. You loved it the most, it’s only right it goes to you.”

Lily slid a small envelope that had a set of keys inside.

Blix smiled smally, taking them.

“The house. Um. None of us want it and I doubt that you do either,” Darla took over pausing to see Blix shake her head ‘no.’ “So, we are dividing everything among us, and selling off/throwing away furniture we don’t want. The grand piano is yours.”

“Along with all the books in the library,” Chimed in Hope, her voice bright and cheery.

“The last sort of major items are the cars. The Morgan, the Convertible, and the Mustang,” Lily ended.

Blix thought for a moment before stating, “Well. Darla should get the Morgan. It was always your favorite. Plus, you were the only who learned how to drive stick.”

They all chuckled a little at that.

“Then… the ‘stang and convertible should go to either of you. I don’t need a car, have plenty,” She said looking at Lily and Hope.

They both nodded, Darla then stated, “That’s all of the major items, like we said, we’re just going to divide everything evenly. We did, however, find one thing, that you should have now.”

Lily giggled as she pulled out a small pink bomber jacket, that had the words “Pink Lady” on it.

“Good lord where did you find that?” Blix asked mildly horrified as she took it.

“One of the boxes in the attic, we all found ours, so we hoped that you would come and get yours. Maybe give it to any little ones you wind up having?” Hope explained somewhat shyly.

Blix smiled at it and whispered a soft ‘thank you,’ before folding it gently and putting it in her bag.

“If that’s everything, I need to be going soon. Work waits for no one,” Blix noted standing up.

“Uhh. Just… one last thing… you… you wouldn’t happen to know what happened to mom’s little black book, do you? People… keep trying to claim that she owed them stuff from years ago,” Lily asked worriedly.

Blix paused at the door, sighing. She turned to them and said, “I have it. I’ll fax over a copy I made for you guys.”

She then grabbed a scrap piece of paper from her bag and put down her numbers on it.

“You can uh… call me on either of the first 2 numbers. The third is my fax. I’ll be sure to get that info to you guys, asap,” She said, pushing the paper to them, and walking out.

Her hands shook as she threw on her sunglasses, just before she made it to the door. She wasn’t sure how to react with everything. She stepped outside and made it halfway down the stairs when she saw a peculiar sight.

“Pacho,” She said, drinking in his form as he leaned against a motorcycle, looking every bit the bad boy persona.

She strolled over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, under his leather jacket.

“What are you doing here honey?” She asked with a smile.

“Checking up on my girl. How are you?” He wondered looking her over.

“Better now that you’re here,” She replied sweetly, giving him a kiss.

He kissed back and told her, “I came to steal you away for a few days. I have some business down in Florida I need to take care of. I figured you and I could have some much needed alone time.”

She smiled at that and started to answer when she heard someone clear their throat. She turned around and spotted her sisters standing, looking at the two of them curiously.

“Pacho. These are my sisters. Lily, Hope, and Darla. Guys, this is Pacho, my boyfriend,” She introduced quickly.

Pacho smiled charmingly and said hello to them with a small wave.

Lily was the first to react, throwing her hands around Blix, pulling her into a tight hug.

Blix was not expecting, giving a small “Oof!”

Hope and Darla joined in and were hugging her as well.

Pacho smiled as he noted that Blix was trying and failing to not cry. Staring at her sisters, he noted their caramel blonde hairs, and blue-green eyes. Seeing them together, he realized, if Blix had been blonde, it would’ve been difficult to distinguish who was who.

They said their goodbyes and promised to call each other.

Blix wiped her eyes, returning to Pacho’s embrace.

“So. How exactly do you expect me to ride comfortably on this thing in this skirt?” She asked with a laugh.

“The skirt shortens,” He tells her with a smirk.

She looked down at it and spotted that just above the knee was flap that perfectly covered the zipper. She unzips it without care, stepping out of it, and tossing the fabric into her bag.

It was still a bit tight but gave her legs more mobility. She moved to straddle the bike but stopped.

“Can we… make one quick pitstop before we go to the airport?” She pleaded.

He nodded his head, and she directed them to a place that was about half a mile away from town.

As he pulled up, she took in the crumbling barn in the distance, and the house that had seen better days.

“This is your grandparents place, yes?” He confirmed as they stopped.

She nodded her head, “My sisters gave it to me.”

Blix walked toward the house, hesitantly. She looked all around, remembering how beautiful it once was. It saddened her to see it in the state it was in.

She pulled out the key, and gently opened the door, brushing away cobwebs that had formed near the entrance.

The inside of it still looked the way it did when she was child, just dusty. There was only one thing she wanted from inside. A photo. It sat on the mantle, just above the fireplace. She brushed off the layer of dust that had built onto it, revealing her as a child, with a large black stallion.

She picked it up, brushing it off as best as she could, as she made her way back outside. She locked the door behind her, and then gazed fondly at the frame in her hands.

She moved back to Pacho, and shyly showed him the photo. He smiled as he stared at it.

“Aww. Look at you. So cute. Was this your horse?” He asked teasing lightly.

“Yeah. His name was Zeus. I was the only he would let ride him. He was very... peculiar. I found out later on, that they rescued him when he was a foal, and he had been starved. I’m pretty sure he uh. He knew. Kindred spirits and all,” She explained softly.

“What happened to him?” Pacho inquired curiously.

“He was sold. He uhh. Went to a farm where he became a racehorse and had many babies. He died about 5 years ago? I think? He was 20,” She stated as she gently placed the frame into her bag.

Pacho stared at her and mentioned, “You looked very happy in that photo. Now I see why my ranch made brought you such joy.”

She simply gave him a kiss and got back onto the bike with him. They rode away, Blix feeling lighter and more relaxed than she’s felt in a long time.

They drove to the airport, hopped onto a plane, greeting Navegante. It wasn’t long before they landed in Florida and made their way to a small, nondescript motel.

The plans discussed were about getting rid of the Lion and taking over Escobar’s market here in Florida. It took about 3 days to get the assets under Cali’s control, and watching Pacho work his charm was a sight to behold. In their free time, he wooed her, taking her to museums and parks. At night they spent tangled up each other, whispering sweet nothings to one another.

When the work was done, and they packed up their stuff, they had but one last thing to do. They invited Lion to their motel, where Navegante make quick work of him. Blix didn’t bother asking what he did with the body; some things are better left unknown.

That day they returned to Cali, and it was as she walked inside Pacho’s home, she realized, that this was becoming more of a home to her than her own place. Especially when she walked in to see Gilberto and Miguel standing there, waiting to welcome the both of them home.

Gilberto gave her a huge hug that she wasn’t expecting but accepted it. Her attention was directed to the side where a large pile of boxes laid and behind all of it, sat a grand piano. It was mahogany wood, in a Victorian style.

She wandered over it, gently lifting the cover over the keys. She looked at it and played a few notes. She noticed quickly that the keys needed to be tuned, as the tones were offkey as they played.

She ran her hand softly over the wood, noting the smalls scuffs that she knew needed to be worked out.

“Wouldn’t happen to know anyone who can tune a piano do you?” She asked them over her shoulder.

“No, but we could find one pretty easy,” Miguel offered with a chuckle.

“These got here fast? Is Starkman trying to impress me or something?” Blix questioned staring at all of the boxes.

“Possibly. You are the Lady of Cali after all,” Gilberto said grandly, with a laugh.

She turned to look at him in surprise, “The Lady of Cali? When did I earn that title?”

“It’s what the other cartels referred to you as, after the party. Kind of stuck with everyone here,” Miguel explained, with half a shrug.

“You made quite the impression on everyone. You are well liked,” Gilberto said proudly.

She smiled looking at the boxes. Most were notated as books and then one was marked “Blix’s Room.” She reached over into Pacho’s pocket, grabbing the pocketknife she knew he carried, to open it.

She held the knife, trying to control the shakiness she felt as she cut open the tape. A moment later, she set the knife down, and pulled the flaps open. Inside she could see several trophies, and a couple of small knickknacks. But the thing that caught her eye the most was the large, dark brown teddy bear.

She bit her lip as she reached in and pulled him out. She stared at him for a minute, memories flickering through her mind. When she first got him, the comfort he brought, leaving him behind when she ran away.

She slowly set him back inside, shaking her head.

“Umm. I’m not quite sure what to do with all of this?” She wondered turning her gaze to Pacho.

“We’ll figure it out. C’mon. Let’s go eat,” He suggested, holding his hand out to her.

She takes it, holding onto it tightly as they made their way to the table to eat.

Elsewhere, in La Catedral, Escobar was concocting a plan. Blackie had come to him with some interesting developments.

He wanted to get back at the Cali Cartel, but he had to get rid of their little federal agent. Not permanently but distracted. Away from them for a time.

He made a call to Valeria and slid the information to her.

“Sorry, Miss Lage, but this is too good to pass up,” He murmured to himself looking down at the file.

Back with Blix, she was listening to Gilberto tell a story about Pacho from when he first began, trying not to laugh at it.

Halfway through the story, Diego came in, and he looked distraught.

“Diego? What’s up?” She asked him concerned.

Diego didn’t speak, just turned on the TV that was setting in the dining room. He switched it to the channel where Valeria Vasquez was reporting.

“And in other news, I have just received info from an anonymous source. Scandalous information about a US Senator,” Valeria teased, her eyes bright.

Blix froze, sitting up straight.

“US Senator Alexander Danvers had quite the illustrious affair about 30 years ago. Now, you are probably wondering… Valeria? What does that have to do with us? Well. That affair led to a bastard child. Federal Agent Blix Lage of the FBI…. Whose stationed here in Colombia,” Valeria reported.

Blix stood up suddenly, pacing back and forth.  

“I’m going to kill him. That bastard. That fucking bastard. To hell with the DEA, to hell with extradition. I’m going to murder him. Him and that bitch,” She muttered angrily, as she paced.

“Honey? Kill who?” Pacho asked, stepping into her path, trying to get her to focus and calm down.

“Escobar! OBVIOUSLY! ‘An ANONYMOUS source?’ When EVERYONE knows she’s whore herself out to that man for any information to BOOST her career!” She exclaimed, furious.

“Can this week get ANY worse?” She murmured defeated, resting her head against his chest.

She heard her phone ring and she groaned loudly as she looked at the ID.

“Yes, Ambassador?” She greeted her voice strained.

“Get to Bogota. We apparently have a guest on their way here. This story has been running for the past hour and has made its way to US media. This is a scandal we did not need Miss Lage,” Crosby informed her.

“Yes sir. Right away,” She answered robotically hanging up.

“I have to go to Bogota. Again. Apparently… guests are making their way to the Embassy. Joy,” She relayed grimacing.

“Wait. Rewind a bit… Your father is a senator?” Miguel questioned confused.

“Unfortunately. Moved his way from small town mayor, to governor of Georgia, to US Senator. My half-brother is currently running for governor himself,” She explained dully.

Gilberto and Miguel looked at her surprised.

“Don’t get excited. That man hasn’t acknowledged my existence once. Doubt my dear lil brother even knows I exist,” She stated, cutting off any ideas that may be forming.

“When I come back from this train wreck encounter, we are going to sleep… for 5 weeks,” She said to Pacho, exhausted.

He pulls her to him, pressing kisses to her face, whispering, “Sounds like a plan.”

She went upstairs, packing a bag for a few nights, planning to stay at a hotel. She angrily threw in some clothes, slowly stopping. She closed her eyes, wishing that this was just some terrible nightmare. She collapsed to her knees, the stress of the past week hitting her hard.

She found herself crying into her hands, as silently as she could. She knew one day her past would catch up to her. She just didn’t think it would happen all at once. She was tired. She was tired of pretending she was okay. So, in the silence of her room, she cried.

Pacho made his way upstairs to check on her and stopped when he heard her sobs. He let her cry for a moment before he walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her. He gently lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the bed to lay her upon it. Once she was on the bed, he curled up next to her, softly wiping away the tears that had formed.

“Do you want me to go with you?” He asked in a whisper.

She shook her head, “No. The media will probably be all over me for a day or so. Don’t want the world to find out I’m also dating a cartel member.”

He nodded once, before assuring her, “I’m here if you need me. I’ll hop on a plane to you. Just say the word. If not, I’ll be here waiting for you to return to me.”

She smiled, sniffling as she tried wiping her face off to clear more tears.

“Regretting being with someone who has so much baggage yet?” She asked in a self-deprecating tone.

“No. Quite the opposite really. I’m quite in love with my Lady of Cali,” He confessed looking her in the eyes.

She felt her breath catch at that admission, and she could feel her heart swell with emotion.

“Pacho… I only just stopped crying and now you’re going to make me cry some more?” She inquired feeling tears in her eyes again.

“Are they happy tears?” He lightly questioned.

“Yes. They are. Especially when… I’m pretty sure I’m falling for you too,” She admitted kissing him.

“Good to know. Now, get to Bogota. Deal with your shit father. Come home to me and I’ll make sure you won’t be leaving my bed for hours if not days,” He promised her.

She nodded her head agreeing, before sitting up and walking into the bathroom to clean herself up real quick. Once she was done with that, she finished packing and was off to Bogota. The brothers had paid for a hotel room for her, telling her to get whatever she wants.

So, when she checked she ordered a small sandwich and fries. It was late by the time she got in, and the ambassador called her again to tell her to be at the embassy at 8am sharp and that even the president of Colombia would be joining them.

She ate quietly, before falling into a fitful sleep. When she woke up the next day, she was not prepared to face whatever hell that was waiting for her.

She showered, got dressed, and 15 mins before 8am she was at the steps of the embassy. There were reporters and photographers everywhere. She sighed and stepped out, pushing past the crowd that was shouting questions at her.

“What’s it like to be the bastard child of a US Senator?” She hears Valeria ask her just as she was about to reach the top.

She stopped, annoyance racing through her entire being.

She turned sharply around to her, and threw back, “Valeria. What’s it like being such a mediocre reporter that you lie about your ‘anonymous sources’ when we all know who you get your info from?”

Her face fell and was filled with rage as several other reporters laughed then coughed.

“Tell Mr. Escobar I say hello,” She spat out, turning away from her and walking inside.

She made her way up to conference room, ignoring the stares and whispers that erupted all around her. She stepped inside, ignoring the 3 people who were sitting down. She greeted the president and the ambassador first. She slowly turned to look at the older gentleman that sat in the middle.

His hair was once a dark brunette that now has streaks of grey, his eyes were bright green. The woman besides him, was blonde and demure looking. The last man, as she turned her gaze to take him, was her age… and honestly, they looked like they could be twins.

“Hello senator,” She greeted somewhat dully.

She took her seat and waited for the ambassador to speak.

The ambassador informed her that they are unaware of what exactly the evidence was that tied her to the senator. As he spoke, senator Danvers cut in claiming this was all a lie, a scam. That he had no idea who I was.

His denials infuriated her.

She stood up suddenly and stared him in the eyes.

“Listen. I didn’t want this. I don’t care about you. But don’t you dare lie. You had an affair. You had me, then your son. You abandoned me without a second thought. Don’t you dare say that you have no idea who I am, when we,” she pointed to the younger man, “look like twins.”

He stopped and stared at her stunned.

“I lived with this knowledge since I was 10. Just ask your wife. She knew. She knew the whole time,” She informed glancing over at her. “In fact, she was the one who told me all about it.”

“Martha, what is she talking about?” He quietly asked her.

“Yes Martha. Tell him. Tell him how you hired me to help you work on your garden and how you told a 10-year-old that she was not only a bastard, but unwanted by both of her parents,” Blix stated bitterly.

Martha looked away, not wanting to meet anyone’s eyes.

“Listen. I don’t want to start a fight or interrupt your life. I was quite content in you not being in my life. I get it. My mother… she was a leech. I understand why you left her… but you left me too. And my mother made sure… to let me know that I was not wanted,” She admitted, motioning to the scars on her face.

“I have spent the past 30 years without you. I can live the next 30 or so without you. Go back home. I don’t want you in my life,” She concluded firmly.

She stepped out of the conference room and made her way downstairs to the DEA department. She spotted Steve but no Javier, so she stole his seat.

She collapsed and sat rather lazily in the chair, slumped.

“Rough day?” Steve asked taking in her posture.

“Rough week. My psychotic mother passed, had to reconnect with my sisters, dealt with some bullshit over the will which led to an arrest for white collar, someone figured out who my father is, and he and his family are upstairs trying to deny everything,” She summarized.

“Can I hide here for a time?” She asked glancing over at him.

“Sure, if you help go through these transcripts,” Steve bargained holding a stack of papers.

“Deal,” She replied taking the stack.

She sat with him for an hour, going through transcripts and helping him find any leads.

Javier eventually appeared, raising an eyebrow at her in his chair. He pulled up another chair next to her, taking half of her remaining stack. She smiled at him, as he teasingly nudged her with his elbow. They quietly worked until Theo appeared.

“Hey boss, sorry to interrupt. Um. There’s someone asking for you upstairs?” Theo tells her.

She nodded her head, finishing the sentence she was on before standing up. She ruffled Javier’s hair with her hand and reached over to do the same to Steve.

“Bye guys. Good luck,” She said, following Theo.

Theo glanced at her a few times, when they stepped into the elevator.

“Please don’t ask,” She quietly pleaded.

“Ask what?” Theo asked acting confused.

She smiled appreciatively at him. When they got up to their floor, she paused when she sees her half-brother standing by their offices.

She made her way to him cautiously.

When she was finally before him, she greeted, “Hi.”

“Hey,” Came his voice, slightly raspy. “Can… can we talk?”

She nodded and led him to her office. “I’m sorry it’s kind of small.”

Her office barely had room for the 2 chairs and desk. He waved it off.

“So. I… I gotta say… I don’t know how to start this. Um. But I guess. The beginning is best? I’m Ajax. 30. Sagittarius. Hoping to be Governor when I grow up. And would love to get to know my older sister, if she’d let me?” He introduced, rubbing the back of his neck.

Blix smiled awkwardly, and followed suit, “Blix. 30. Scorpio. FBI agent, lead investigator of the art crimes division here in Colombia. And…I would love to know about my little brother too.”

She laughed when she realized after a moment, she was doing the same neck rub he did.

“We… have the same fidget behaviors,” She muttered.

“I hear you’re a fighter and a damn good one,” Ajax complimented.

“I hear you have a really good shot at being Governor. If I was in Georgia, I may have to vote for you,” She said to him.

“Listen. My mom…I’m sorry she made you feel that way when you were younger. My… Our dad will come around eventually. He just… was shocked to say the least,” Ajax apologized.

“Mh.” She was doubtful but didn’t say much to disagree.

They talked a few more minutes and exchanged numbers to keep in contact.

She had to have few more talks with the ambassador and president for the next three days to assure that this was not going to affect her job. Once she was finally free, she made her way back to Cali on a late flight.

When she landed, she was greeted by Diego who was waiting for her.

“Honestly, I’ve never been happier to see you. Would it be weird if I hugged you?” Blix politely asked as she stood in front of him.

Diego smirked and held his arms open to her. She hugged him, feeling relieved. They get into the car and started to drive. About halfway there she noticed something was off.

“Why are you being so quiet? What happened?” Blix questioned looking at him concerned.

“He didn’t want me to tell you… but you should know. There was an attempt against Pacho… Yesterday. Escobar’s men tried to kill him while he was playing soccer,” Diego explained not looking at her.

“But he’s okay, right?” She was worried.

“Yes. Shaken up. But fine,” He assured her.

She let that information sink in. She knew it was only a matter of time before an incident like this happened. She wasn’t quite sure what her reaction was going to be when she sees Pacho. She did know that Escobar had no idea who he was dealing with.

[grifalinas]

Once upon a time there was a poor woodcutter who wanted a child so badly that one night, while walking alone in the woods, he told the wishing star that he would “even settled for half a child, if only he could be a father”.

Of course, since it is a well known fact that the wishing star is a fairy and that fairies are dicks, this was foolish of him, but the deed was done, and sure enough: nine months later his wife gave birth to a child who was only half a boy. This must be taken in the most literal sense: his entire right side of his body was nonexistent.

Now at this point you’re probably thinking “okay, now hang on a minute” and you’ve probably got a lot of questions about anatomy and mortality rates and you might even be preparing to tell me so many things about congenital defects and explain that such a child could not possibly survive, but listen. Don’t worry about it.

The poor woodcutter was a little put off by his child’s condition but he had meant what he said, and he was not a man to be put off by fairy dickery, so he took his son to a tinsmith and had a tin half-body made for his right side, so that now he was a whole boy and, again, don’t worry about it. This is a fairy tale.

The boy, whose name was James, grew up the same as any other boy, and we can only assume the tinsmith made bank replacing his body for him every few months as he grew (and then grew and grew and grew because by the time he stopped growing he was as tall as the trees in the forest of his birth. Not literally, of course, but this is a fairy tale so,).

And so James grew into a fine, strong young man, a woodcutter like his father, and since I know you’re wondering: yes, it was made of tin, and yes, it worked.

One day, while James was out in the forest doing whatever it is that woodcutters do- cut wood, presumably- he came upon a crow trapped in a bramble bush.

Now, James, as was by this point well documented, was a very soft-hearted young man, and didn’t like to see any creature suffering needlessly. So without a second thought he chopped away the brambles that were holding the crow prisoner, and then carried him home and cleaned and bandaged the wounds that he’d acquired during his entrapment.

The crow was too badly hurt to fly away, so James made him a comfortable nest and left him in it to rest until he’d healed, and as it had been a very long day and the sun was nearly set, James ate his dinner and went to bed.

During the night, he thought he felt a presence at his side in the narrow bed, but when he woke the next morning it was empty, save for a single black feather, which he tucked into his pocket.

Fortunately the crow was feeling much better that day, so James let him back out into the woods and gave no more thought to it, because he was the sort of soft-hearted guy who was always helping injured animals in the wood and it was his good fortune he lived alone because if he had a wife she would most certainly have complained.

(He did not have a wife. There were reasons for this, one of them being his half-tin body and a much bigger one being that it took any woman about five minutes to realize he really, really wasn’t interested.)

Another day, as James was once more out in the woods doing his job, he found a man had fallen into the river, and was struggling against the current. Since James’ half-tin body made him very strong, it was no trouble for him to reach into the river and just pull the man back onto the bank. The river roared at him for taking his prize, but the man was safe, and he clasped James as though he were a long-lost brother, which, if you’ll recall the wish James’ father made in the beginning of this story, was clearly impossible. Also, the man was as old as James’ parents.

The man, as it turned out, was a king (not of James’ country; just A King in general), and he was so grateful to James for saving his life that he promised James his daughter in marriage. James thought this was a bit much to offer someone just for pulling him free of the river, but he figured there wasn’t any harm in at least seeing what the princess thought about the idea, and told the king that he needed to prepare his house for his absence and he would come along shortly behind him.

So the king went ahead to tell his daughter and prepare her for her upcoming nuptials, and  James went home to get a change of underwear and lock his door.

-/-

Meanwhile, the king returned home that night and immediately sent for his children.

Now, this king had two children, a son and a daughter who were twins. Their names were Raven and Qrow, and they were as alike in countenance as twins can be when they aren’t identical, and they were also very rebellious and willful and strong-minded, and not the sort to just go along with it when being told their father had promised Raven to a man she’d never met just because he’d fished him out of a river.

“Absolutely not,” Raven said, folding her arms and glaring in a way that told her father she meant it.

“You can’t just go marrying your daughter to some rando just for saving your life,” Qrow agreed. “What if he’s a creep? Or ugly?”

“He’s not ugly,” the king said. “He’s very handsome. He’s as tall as a tree and he has a beard. That’s handsome, right?”

“Do you mean that he’s literally as tall as a tree, or only that he is very tall?” Raven asked, because this was a fairy tale and sometimes you have to double-check these things.

“He is very tall,” the king explained. “And his eyes are very blue.”

“That does sound handsome,” Raven agreed, “but I still don’t want to marry him. It’s the principle of the thing.”

“At least wait until you meet him to decide,” the king asked, and Raven agreed because, you know, maybe he wasn’t a creep. But privately she had already decided, because if he married her because her father said so she’d have to go through all of the trouble of training him to respect her free will, and who has time for that?

-/-

The next night, James arrived at the palace, and the king had him brought up immediately. While he was waiting for his audience, unbeknown to him the king and the twins watched him through a secret hidey-hole in the wall.

“Well, daughter?” the king asked. “Is he handsome enough to meet your standards?”

“He’s very handsome,” Raven agreed, “and I do like how kind his smile is, but on balance I think I’m still going to refuse. I can’t go marrying a man just because my father made a foolish promise. It sets a poor precedent.”

“Well now what am I supposed to do?” the king said. “I made him a promise. I can’t go back on my word, it makes me look like a bad king.”

“I think promising something that isn’t yours to promise makes you look like a bad king,” Raven sniffed. “Just tell him you made a foolish decision in the heat of the moment and ask him if he wants something else.”

And then she looked to her brother to back her up, but Qrow had spent the entire conversation gazing through the hidey-hole at James, and now he said, “If my sister doesn’t want him, I’ll take him.”

-/-

James was beginning to wonder if perhaps he was being played when the king finally appeared.

“So here’s the thing,” the king said. “My daughter doesn’t want to marry you, even though you are handsome and kind, because of the principle of the thing.”

James could understand that. Honestly, he was a little relieved. He’d been thinking on the way over that he wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to do with a wife.

“But,” the king went on, before James could reply, “I have a son, and he would be happy to marry you in her place.”

This, to James, sounded like a much better option.

“All right,” he said. “If he doesn’t mind.”

So a feast was prepared to celebrate the engagement, and James met his husband-to-be for the first time that night, and fell in love, or anyway he fell in like, which is still pretty good for an arranged marriage.

The next night, they were married, which we can only assume was because this is a fairy tale and things can be sped up. James did think it odd that the wedding was being held at night, but he supposed royals had their odd ways different than the ways of the common folk.

Certainly it made it take a lot less time to get to the wedding night later.

Now, James was very much looking forward to his wedding night, but he thought he ought to get some full disclosure out of the way before they went any further. However, it turned out his husband had something similar in mind, because as soon as the door closed behind them and they were alone, he said, “I have something to tell you.”

“I have something to tell you,” James echoed. “You go first.”

“I’m currently under a curse. At night I’m a man, but when the sun rises I’m going to turn into a bird. It’s extremely inconvenient.”

“It’s not that inconvenient right now,” James said. “I’d rather have a man for my wedding night than a bird.”

“I guess that’s fair. What did you want to tell me?”

“I only have half a body. The right half is made of tin.”

“Oh. Did a witch kiss you, too?”

“My father made a very stupid wish on a fairy star.”

“That sounds also really inconvenient.”

“It was before I stopped having growth spurts. Now it’s fine. Though it does tend to be offputting for the women in my village, who’d prefer a husband whose manhood isn’t made of tin.”

Qrow nodded, and, as he’d spent more than five minutes with James at this point, said, “Are you sure it’s the tin putting them off?”

I won’t bore you further with their banter. Suffice to say: they had a very fulfilling wedding night, and in the morning, James woke to find his bed empty apart from a single black feather, which he sat admiring for quite some time until a maid brought him his breakfast and he quickly put it away, because it was kind of embarrassing to be caught pining for one’s husband like that.

[doctorhawke]

all six of my oc hawkes in one big thing, i have an au where they are all a big happy family and run amok in kirkwall

below the cut theres “brief” bios for them all (including their names because my renditions of their handwriting might not be very legible) and a little chart showing more insight into their personality makeup

all the ages are from act 1, after a year in kirkwall, relative to carver and bethany’s 20 (fyi they both survive in this au and both become grey wardens. cannot IMAGINE that any of these hawkes would let one of their littlest siblings fight an ogre 1v1 when theres literally eight of them lmfao they tag team it like they do everything)

steve hawke- he/him, age 27, adopted by the hawkes at 8. steve is a mage, a healer, and a pacifist. as such when there are fights he will focus on incapacitating enemies without harming them (force magic and mind blast comes in handy) and especially on supporting the team through healing. he’s gay and immediately takes to anders, mainly because he spends a lot of time helping in his clinic. 

he strongly believes in mage rights especially as malcolm imparted a lot of responsibility on him towards his younger mage siblings, nyx and bethany. he’s protective and a bit of a worrier, though as time goes on in kirkwall he becomes more and more exhausted, and starts to cope through making light of things. post-game, he and anders are on the run. 

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kit hawke- he/him, age 24, bio kid, and a dual-wielding rogue. he’s bold, charming, and a bit of a pessimist- all of which kirkwall amplifies by virtue of being a crazy fucking city. kit is also pretty business minded and usually spearheads bone pit related shenanigans. varric (who deeply cares for all the hawkes of course) immediately takes to him and the two are inseparable. 

kit is bi, and likes to have fun, though over time he falls for both isabela and fenris, and over time the three get together and become the most impressive trio you ever saw. all kit’s siblings are kind of like “are you serious dude, we have a limited number of friends and you end up with two of them? what about the rest of us” but considering the amount of drama and heartbreak kit undergoes over the years in relation to his love life, they all kind of figure he’s earned the happy ending. post-game the three of them become pirates on isabela’s ship and free slaves in between tracking down hidden treasure or whatever it is that pirates do, and they eventually have adorable baby twins. 

—————————-

syl hawke- she/her, age 26, bio kid but only leandra’s, she actually is varric’s half sibling (though she does NOT know this and the sibling rivalry that develops upon them meeting is incomprehensible to the both of them). so syl is the shortest of the bunch, and looks a lot more like varric and bartrand than kit, carver, or bethany, despite them all being related. 

syl’s the only warrior of the group (other than carver- a dynamic duo), fights with hammers exclusively, and has a tendency to be super intense. she doesn’t really get humor at all, in the rare case that she accidentally makes a joke and people laugh she assumes they’re laughing AT her. she’s also very shoot first and ask questions later, and the only hawke more protective than steve is. her big sister energy is off the charts and she’s prepared to kill any templar that so much as looks at her family. as such she’s staunchly pro-mage.

she’s a lesbian and has massive game despite not really being any good at flirting- it’s probably her sheer intensity. she and isabela have a brief fling, tallis is very taken with her, and she has a rivalry-fueled sexual tension with aveline for ages (the long road is a VERY fun quest to play through with syl). however she was always very supportive of and close with merrill and eventually the two fall in love. once they’re together they’re insanely sweet and have mega chemistry and i love them so fucking much. post-game they’re forced to leave kirkwall but end up living in the denerim alienage.

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lith hawke- she/her, age 25, adopted by the hawkes at 9 along with her twin nyx. an archer rogue, with speed taking precedence over power or precision. lith is a lot to take in okay. she’s the only one who’s pro-templar in the group, and is a rabid andrastian. back home in lothering her chantry beliefs were instrumental in keeping her family safe, as she not only knew every templar by name (as the whole family did) but also is endlessly trustworthy to them and to all the chantry sisters and mothers. countless times a templar might have come calling to take away one of her siblings or her father, but was dissuaded by lith- after all, little lith hawke would NEVER help hide apostates, right?

she supports her siblings because she believes that in the end their souls will be saved. (the only thing that freaks her out more than nyx’s blood magic is when syl casually drops that she’s thinking about converting to merrill’s religion.) she doesn’t trust mages if they aren’t related to her, and always advocates for the circle when given the chance. she’s best friends with fenris and they hang out a lot, more and more as the years pass. since merrill and anders both move into the hawke estate (which was already a bit of a circus, can you imagine the chaos?) lith finds herself more and more outnumbered ideologically and often escapes to fenris’ mansion for some quiet. 

during the endgame, she sides against her family and the mages. she basically has a villainous breakdown. she helps them kill meredith and once it’s revealed that meredith had been influenced by the lyrium idol, lith’s whole worldview is pretty much shattered. post-game she leaves the city and seeks out her cousin, ash amell (i have eight wardens so im not going to get into this but basically my amell and my cousland (eve) are in a gay throuple with leliana and its dope as all hell). spending time with ash, eve, and leliana is very healing for her, but all her siblings assume she’s dead and she doesn’t see them for years after kirkwall. 

—————————-

nyx hawke- they/them, age 25, adopted by the hawkes at 9 along with their twin lith. nyx is the blood mage of the group, and is an absolute icon quite frankly. they’re very chaotic, and especially close with kit, merrill, and isabela. nyx has a ton of fun fighting, and they and syl make an especially good team in combat. nyx always looks up to syl and its very sweet, and syl is the only one in the family who never once messed up nyx’s pronouns (everyone is very good about this of course, and by kirkwall its a non-issue, but even lith slipped up once or twice early on). 

they have very noodly arms because they’ve never had to worry about fighting hand to hand when running out of mana, because of the blood magic. this leads to quite a bit of teasing but tbh they pull it off. nyx is bi and has a thing with isabela for a short while but in the end they’re better as best friends. 

nyx and lith are very close. they’re often perfectly in sync when doing things, especially in combat, and have that twin esp thing going on which can get spooky at times. however they also bicker a lot, and obviously clash on ideology pretty much constantly. though this is the norm nyx always assumed they would have each other’s backs no matter what when it came down to the nitty gritty, and lith’s betrayal during the endgame is really heartbreaking for them. 

over the years anders and nyx do a lot of collaborating when it comes to mage rights. they help him polish his manifesto, and smuggle mages out of the gallows. the only real reason nyx isn’t brought into the loop on the chantry explosion was a mixtures of anders’ crushing guilt and his knowledge that if he told nyx and not steve, steve would be really hurt. (however he couldn’t tell steve because he didn’t want the deaths to be on steve’s conscience- anders knows he definitely would have helped if it came down to that). post-game nyx goes on to be one of the leaders of the mage rebellion.

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lou hawke- he/him, age 22, adopted by the hawkes at 10. hes a cowboy and i love him. an archer rogue, he prioritizes powerful firing over speed or precision. he’s a massive sweetheart, terminally polite, and has massive ears that he’s self-conscious of and tries to cover with his hair. however whenever his hair gets long enough to cover them leandra starts poking and prodding him to get a trim and he’s always too soft to refuse for long, beginning the cycle again (and after leandra is murdered he always keeps his hair to her liking- he gets weepy if it grows too long). he’s the only hawke i’ve drawn without his in-game outfit because this fucking game doesn’t have cowboy hats or cute shirts with tassles and i do what i want. 

lou also plays instruments, he’s got a guitar and a harmonica and plays the piano passably. he IS the piano man in the eyes of the hanged man’s patrons. sing us a song, they tell him, etc. he manages ten minutes of harmonica in the deep roads, citing excellent acoustics, until anders tells him to stop because the darkspawn will hear. when the hawkes get rich lou buys a horse and goes for morning rides out on the wounded coast. 

lou is bi, and runs around for years with a massive crush on isabela but that doesn’t exactly work out. he ends up with jethann (theres a lot of lore here but suffice it to say its extremely tender) and post-game they leave kirkwall and end up owning a ranch not far outside denerim. lou hires lots of farmhands that end up looking to him as a father figure and its super sweet, and jethann refuses to do manual labor. 

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this got insanely long i am SO sorry flkjsdlkgjlkcxjglsfkd

feel free to send any asks relating to them because i really love this family so much and could talk about them forever dlfskjlxcjglskd if you couldnt tell from this diatribe

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 84

DISCLAIMER: This is a modern AU crossover story with Outlander and La Femme Nikita. LFN and its characters do not belong to me nor do those from Outlander.

SYNOPSIS: Murtagh and Fergus both offer their assistance to search for Claire. Meanwhile she is just beginning to realise who her captors are when she meets one in particular. Jamie’s search for her comes up empty handed until he looks at surveillance tape from her apartment building. He asks Fergus to help him trace the number plate of the car in the car park and they find the name of one of the kidnappers and a possible location.  On leaving Section Jamie picks up a bag of tricks from Murtagh.

 Previous chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

 Just to let you know … 

Sadly, I must leave you all at this chapter as I am heading off overseas for five weeks.  I am going to Boston for a tour and then on to New York for family reasons and will return home early November.

Suffice to say I am extremely grateful to all of you who have been with this story from the get go or who have just discovered my story. Hopefully when I return you will continue to read what happens next to our two heroes. THANK YOU so, so much for all of your support over the past couple of months and may it continue when I return to see how Jamie and Claire are finally reunited.

I have left a little synopsis of what happens next in my story at the end of this chapter, so that you know that Jamie will eventually prevail in finding Claire.  

Until November, my kind regards xox

CHAPTER 84

Once the three men left James Fraser’s office, Murtagh Fitzgibbons returned to Munitions to ready a bag of tricks which he knew Jamie would eventually need when he left Section to search for Claire, while Fergus and Jamie headed back to his computer station in Systems. Glancing up at the Perch each man noticed that it was still in darkness but they knew they may only have a very short window of opportunity to search the surveillance tape of Claire's underground parking lot. Fergus worked quickly and concentrated on the task at hand, knowing that at any moment, Operations could illuminate the perch and see him with Jamie. If Madeline was still in Section she too could pass through comm., and would want to know what they were doing. Hence time was of the essence especially given the directive for Jamie not to use any equipment or personnel from Section in his search for Claire. Expeditiously, Fergus brought up the images from the surveillance tape and the two men scrutinized the screen. "That's good there," Jamie pointed out at an image on the computer screen. "I can enlarge and enhance," Fergus replied as he set to work with the image Jamie had identified as something of interest. With deft fingers he did just that and brought up a clearer view of the license plate of a black car seen cruising into the parking lot and which had parked close to the entrance. Fergus highlighted several images from the car until a number plate could be clearly identified. Now they were getting somewhere, and Jamie was positive that this may be the breakthrough that he needed in finding his Claire.

 "That's good." 

"Now all we've got to do is run this though the Department of Motor Vehicles database." Jamie tapped his fingers on his thigh. Time was crucial and he gave Fergus a short window to find who may be the owner of this vehicle. "Half an hour?" "You got it," Fergus replied as he set the wheels in motion, happy that finally they may have something to go on. Meanwhile where Claire was ...

Was it still night or was it morning yet?

Claire Beauchamp had no idea of how long she'd been imprisoned in this room although she knew that she had slept.  Slowly, she opened her eyes and glanced around at her surroundings. Nothing was familiar and she had no idea where she was.  Claire was a little woozy despite having slept for a while and she felt herself returning to consciousness as the drug Steven Bonnet had used on her was showing signs of wearing off. She was still lying on the bed but under the covers this time obviously meaning that someone had been in the room when she'd been unconscious. Moving her hands Claire noticed that the handcuffs had been removed.  However, although her hands were free her wrists had some metal device strapped to them. As she tried to sit up, she winced in pain as the wound on her shoulder throbbed. Raising her hand, Claire touched it and to her surprise found that someone had placed a gauze bandage to where the bullet had grazed her shoulder. She vaguely remembered the man in charge saying that a woman named Kai-lin would attend to her wound when she arrived. Obviously, she had done her job as ordered. 

She tried to sit up but was still weak from whatever drug Steven had injected. Claire closed her eyes and waited.  Eventually someone would be back to check up on her sooner or later and then she may learn more about who her captors were and why they had kidnapped her. As she'd anticipated, it wasn't too long before the door to the room opened and she heard the footsteps of a person enter. Feigning sleep she waited and listened for the person to speak. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ A female stood just inside the door and looked at Claire Beauchamp for any lingering signs of the sedative Steven had administered. There appeared to be none but she wouldn't know for certain until their hostage was lucid. Steven Bonnet and William Ransom had done a marvellous job in kidnapping her. They had been well compensated for their efforts but the two men had served their purpose and were no longer needed here. Their initiation into the triad was complete but they could take it from here with their prisoner. Steven and William been told to lie low for a few weeks until all this blew over or until such time as they were needed again, and if they did so, their fee would be doubled. It didn't take too much persuading for the two men to agree to the terms of their agreement. However, as a precaution she would suggest that Claire be moved from this location to another within 24 hours so as to cover their tracks if someone came looking for her as she guessed they would.

The woman’s mind turned only to one man who might indeed try to find her, Claire's friend James Fraser.  He was someone that the triad needed to watch. This man was an enigma and was connected to Claire in ways that they wanted to find out more about. Was there a connection between the two of them and did this have any impact on what had befallen the triad over the past few months?  There were many questions they needed answers for and Claire Beauchamp undoubtedly held the answers they sought ... but all in good time. 

Closing the door behind her, the unseen woman entered before speaking. "Good morning ... How are you feeling?" 

At the sound of her voice Claire managed to lift her head and turned her face towards her. She stared at the person who had come into the room certainly not expecting to see this woman standing in front of her.

"You!" She exclaimed in surprise struggling to sit up in the bed.  

"Yes ... it's me. Welcome back. I hope your shoulder is feeling better." Claire ignored the sentiment. "Why am I here? Who are you?" "But you know who I am," she replied with a supercilious response. "Do I? ... I don't think I know you at all. Is that really you or an alias you're using?" When no answer was forthcoming Claire persisted. "What kind of game are you playing?" The woman’s emotionless, brown eyes held her captive’s gaze asserting her dominance over Claire Beauchamp. "This is no game. I thought you would be aware of that." "What do you want from me?" "All in good time Claire. Get some rest and we'll talk later. I will have Anna bring you something to eat ... then we'll talk in the morning." As she turned to leave the woman turned back to face her once more. "Oh, and by the way ... I wouldn't try anything if I were you. You are under 24-hour surveillance. Understand?" "Absolutely." "Good ... I'm glad we have got that out of the way. We understand each other perfectly." "Yes ... perfectly." Claire mumbled under her breath as she watched her new friend and neighbour Karen Yee exit the room. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Jamie had been right all along. Karen really was the enemy and now she had her under her control. How many times had he warned her to be cautious of her neighbour and she had gone with her gut instincts and believed that she was not someone to worry about? She should have trusted his judgement. Where were they holding her and what were they going to do with her? How would she be able to get a message through to Jamie as to where she was? 

Now she was in a quandary as to what she could do. As she lay in the bed, she knew she had few if any choices of escape at the moment. She knew that she would have to play a waiting game as to what were Karen's intentions. Glancing around the room, her eyes searched for the surveillance devices that were located in the room. She spotted one in each corner and another was trained on the door.

Determinedly Claire tried to sit up straighter but was still weak from the sedative that she'd been given and slumped back against the covers. With furrowed brows in concentration, she tried to contact Section once again but there was still nothing.

No static ... nothing. Although her comm. unit was inoperative, she would not despair. She would soon have her strength back and the sooner the better if she was to attempt any escape. Hence staying focused was essential. She knew she would think of something and when she did, hopefully it would lead to Jamie finding just where they were holding her captive. 

Claire closed her eyes, but in her mind, she was planning a course of action if an opportunity were to arise. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Outside the room Karen and her boyfriend Andy Ma watched her behaviour and judging by the look on Claire's face they knew that whatever information she knew on the Rising Dragons would not be divulged willingly. They cast a look at each other, with the knowledge that they may have to use force to extract what she knew about the triad. "Watch her Andy and if anything happens let me know immediately. I need to contact our illustrious leader.”

Meanwhile back at Section One ...

Gathering his thoughts Fergus Claudel put his glasses back on, then immediately set about running the photograph of the license plate of the black car taken from Claire's parking lot through the Department of Motor Vehicles’ database. Jamie had given him a half an hour window to come up with something concrete to go on and he didn't want to let him down after failing to find something on Claire's whereabouts. Fergus sat back once he had finished typing in the commands and waited for all the data to be processed, quietly praying for a quick resolution. Impatiently he tapped his fingers on his desk as he waited for Intel to appear. 

Suddenly Fergus' face showed the usual look he got when he was about to solve a complex puzzle. He peered at the screen blinking as he read the monitor. DATA COMPLETE ... MATCH FOUND. "Yes!!!!!" He whooped out loud. Finally, Jamie would have a clue as to where to start looking for Claire.  He was rapt. Hitting the print icon on his computer, Fergus waited for the data to print out. Retrieving the copies, he leapt up from his seat with a sense of triumph and made his way to Jamie's office. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Unable to contain his excitement Fergus rapped quickly on his door and entered before the level 5 operative could reply to his knock. "I got it. I ran a satellite survey on the four most likely I told you about and look here. That's the same car you were looking at in those security tapes." Jamie was elated with this news but his answer was measured for he didn’t want to show too much emotion in front of the young techie. "You have an address?" "I've got more than an address... Look at this!" He placed the printouts on Jamie's desk and enthusiastically continued as Jamie studied the pictures in front of him. Fergus pointed at one picture in particular. "I thought that maybe I could pick up on some faces for you. I couldn't get much more than the top of the head on this little guy here ... but this other man … just as he looks up … here." Jamie scrutinized the photograph Fergus showed him. "I ran an indent scan on the guy and put his photo through every disclosure in the system. His name is William Ransom." Jamie studied the picture and the young man’s face peering back at him.  So, this was one of his Claire s abductors.  He would never forget that face and he would never forgive if he had harmed his Claire in any way.

 “Any Intel on him?" 

"We have him listed in our database as a possible recruit to the Rising Dragons. I thought you might want to know. The address is his in Kowloon Tong." "Thank ye Fergus." "Anytime." At last they had something concrete to work on. Fergus had come through for him, now all that was left was to find this William Ransom. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Murtagh knew that Jamie would undoubtedly go on *mandatory refusal until Claire was found and he quickly returned to Munitions to gather together the equipment and weapons that he thought he would need. There were no other options open to him for Operations and Madeline would surely veto any attempt to rescue her using Section's resources. James Fraser however, was resourceful ... very resourceful and there was always a way around the protocols of Section One for their formidable cold operative. Jamie would move heaven and earth to find Claire and with his amigo and his help, they would thwart any obstacles that their leaders might place in his way. 

The weapons’ expert put together an eclectic selection of martial arts weaponry and firearms that Jamie could utilise. Murtagh knew just how dangerous triads could be, hence if Jamie had their weaponry of choice, he would be well equipped to deal with them if needs be. Furthermore, he'd included a few bits and pieces that he had picked up during the Vietnam War and had modified to suit his own design. He had cunningly also made sure that Operations would not be able to find any discrepancies on his weapons' inventory if he wanted to check it. Murtagh knew he had to cover his tracks well and had made sure that any removal of arsenal in his armoury, especially the items he had procured for Jamie's use, had been accounted for. Having been in this caper for years he knew the ropes backwards and forwards. This old boy still has some tricks up his sleeve that Jamie would be able to utilise, he thought brazenly to himself. The craggy old hippie smiled at his ingenious skulduggery.   He placed the items in a bag as he prided himself on his ingenuity.

Knowing that Fergus would hopefully have found something on Claire's whereabouts for Jamie by now, he then waited for the Level 5's arrival before he left Section One. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Murtagh didn't have to wait long, for when he next looked up, he saw the imposing figure of James Fraser make his way over to his station. He looked like he had much on his mind, but he also noticed that Jamie looked single-minded. Fergus had obviously found out something. If not, he would still be in his office instead of leaving Section One.

The formidable operative’s commanding physique soon approached his station and Murtagh ushered him into the back of his storeroom where they wouldn't be observed. 

Handing him a mini disc Jamie announced, "I need everything on here." Looking at the list, Murtagh gave a wry smile at having anticipated what Jamie would require for his recovery mission to find Claire and he gave himself a little pat on the back. "I've already put together hardware I think you will need." The two men shared a look as Murtagh handed over a PDA listing the inventory he'd drawn up of the cache of equipment for his use. Jamie quickly read what he had collected. "This isn't profile," he stated glancing at the munitions’ expert. Speaking in a low voice, so that his conversation would not echo or be overheard he replied brazenly, "I know ... Check it out." Murtagh watched as Jamie ran his eyes over the equipment watching for a reaction from him. "Ye thought of everything ... But it's going to take time to put this together. It's time we don't have." Murtagh Fitzgibbons was bursting with pride and he couldn’t contain his enthusiasm when he responded. If his little bag of tricks could help Jamie in finding his Sugar, he had done his best job. "It's already been taken care of. There are also a couple of trackers that might be useful." James Fraser was grateful that the weapons’ professional had placed at his disposal equipment for any contingency.  "Thank ye Murtagh." "You really think she's still alive?" Looking up briefly before returning his gaze back to the PDA Jamie's answer was a categorical, "Aye." "You think or you wanna think?" Murtagh asked handing over a small Glock revolver to add to his gear. "Did Fergus find out any Intel?" "We have a position of a triad identity." "That's good ... You know you've got enough to go to Operations on this Jamie. You've got a location and you have ID a Rising Dragons' member as one of her kidnappers. If Claire is in that house and if she's still alive, he might reconsider." Jamie examined the array of equipment Murtagh had assembled while chambering a clip into the gun he was holding and checking the sight.  His answer was terse.  "He won't." "You don't know what you're walking into. This is a Rising Dragons’ operation … you might find a very big welcoming committee." Jamie's expression remained blank. He darted a look at Murtagh, before gazing back down at the gun he was checking. "I'll get her out," he emphatically stated leaving Murtagh with no doubt in his mind as to James Fraser’s intentions. "You know we'll be here if you need us." "Thank ye Murtagh," he nodded as he accepted the bag of equipment he had gathered up and organised. Resolute, James Fraser turned and strode purposefully from Munitions and made his way to exit Section. Murtagh Fitzgibbons watched the demeanour of an unwavering man on a mission to find his woman and whoever held her captive. Watching Jamie's ramrod, cold deportment and the determination in his stride, Murtagh knew he wouldn't like to be in their shoes when Jamie found her captors. He would take no prisoners. If they'd hurt Claire in any way shape or form, he certainly wouldn't want to be the one on the receiving end of the cold operative’s wrath when he discovered who had kidnapped her. He would be ruthless in his retaliation and would leave no stone upturned where it concerned Claire's safety. God help them ... for nothing would save them from James Fraser when he caught up with her captors. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Jamie strode towards egress and entered the elevator that would take him up to the hustle and bustle of a city waking to a new day. He'd lost time of how long he'd spent in Section One. All he knew was that it was time productively spent but was also time Claire's captors had in holding her prisoner. She had been missing for at least twelve hours now, and the time that had elapsed could be telling to her welfare. His thoughts gutted his mind with the worst-case scenario and strayed to the one thing he was trying to avoid thinking about. His Claire could be anywhere by now. Was she all right? Had she been injured or was she suffering? Was she even alive? She could be long dead by now. No!!! That scenario was not worth thinking about. Claire was well trained and would be able to ascertain the situation and not do anything stupid or antagonise her captors. With Fergus's help they had a name and a place where one of her kidnappers lived. He would start his search for Claire with him. He had to think positively that she was at this person's address.

With that thought foremost in his mind, Jamie hoped that he had not given her kidnappers too much time to disappear to where they couldn't be found. If that happened, he didn't know what he would do. However, he felt confident enough that he hadn't given them too much time and that he wasn't far behind them. 

I want her to be strong and unresponsive. Only then will she be safe. 

He stopped and shrugged. There was no need for him to point out the fact that whoever held her captive from the Rising Dragons would have no hesitancy in killing her if they thought it was best for the triad. Would she be able to cope with their interviewing techniques and what if they ... God forbid ... tortured her for information? Taking a deep breath, Jamie ordered himself to stop thinking like that. He needed to stop these thoughts going through his head. He needed to stay resolute and not be swayed by thoughts of "what if?" Claire needed him to retain his level headedness if she was to survive but that was easier said than done. His Sassenach was not afraid to die. She wouldn't break just because her life was threatened. She wouldn't give away any Intel. She was strong. He had to be strong too. However much he tried Jamie's mind was preoccupied with his thoughts of her.

Every one of his musings cut deep into his soul. Her image formed in his mind's eye ... of Claire's smiling face, her voice and laughter like a siren's song ... the woman of his desire ... the one who drew him in ... the one who made living a necessity. The woman he loved. Each thought felt like a knife driving into his chest though. The very person he cared most about was in danger and he felt helpless because he didn't know exactly where she was but Claire was his everything and he would find her. 

Exiting into the breaking light of a new day James Fraser was armed with vital information that he could waste no time in checking. Tossing the bag Murtagh had given him into the back of the SUV, he swiftly wheeled the car out onto the highway on his way back to Hong Kong. When he had time, he would check the contents of the bag, but judging by what he had inspected in Munitions, Murtagh Fitzgibbons had packed his mission suit amongst other things and seen to it that he was well prepared for any situation. Time now was of the essence. With steely determination etched across his face, James Fraser pressed his foot to the mettle and accelerated hard with a mantra coursing through his mind.

 “I promise I will find ye my love … and I am coming for those who have abducted ye.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued when I return in November

 * MANDATORY REFUSAL - A Section operative on mission can go into "mandatory refusal" when he or she is convinced that the mission has been compromised and that communications with Section cannot be trusted.

  A little upcoming synopsis

Jamie tracks down William Ransom and Steven Bonnet at a secret location in the woods and they buckle under pressure. With intimidating persuasion, he finds out where Claire can be found. However, is she still there when he arrives or has, she been moved to another location? Meanwhile back at Section One, the Rising Dragons’ mission has come to a standstill due to its two main operatives’ non-involvement. Things are starting to unravel and Operations and Madeline decide to call a truce and ask Jamie to return and they will help him search for Claire. Fergus tries to relay a message to Jamie about intel Section One has received on Claire, but Jamie cannot be located. Where is he, and more importantly who is the person who will lead him to where the Rising Dragons are holding Claire captive?

[funeral-clown]

for @demibuckybarnes what is a birthday? a miserable pile of presents given two days too late

heart emojis

The strange thing about Gotham was how it affected your sleep pattern.

You could simultaneously sleep through a bomb going off a few blocks away, and wake up at the slightest rustle outside your window.

The quiet and reserved citizens slept at night, the rowdy and bloodthirsty slept during the day, and the wise rarely slept at all. With all the smog, sometimes it was hard to tell the difference anyway. 

Champ slept a devil’s slumber, deep and dreaming, unbothered by guilt or fear, every time they remembered to sleep. Their bunker had no windows. They were not asleep right now. They were creeping through the dark parts of the city, dodging the troublesome elements of the streets easily enough and slipping past the criminal element. It was the daytime, all the criminals awake were either rich or desperately poor. Neither were something they could put a stop to. 

They sidled closer to their goal, scarf wrapped warm and thick around their face, warm knit cap pulled down over ears and nearly over eyes. Their fingers were bared by the ratty gloves. The door’s bell merrily announced their presence to those inside. They ambled to the door with grim purpose, a look of fierce determination in their eyes.

“Hello,” they said cheerily, “I’ve come to pick up an order?”

The bored man behind the counter nodded.

“Name?” 

“Pennyworth.”

He grunted, then disappeared for a moment. When he returned he had a white box. Placing it on the glass counter, he flipped the lid up for a moment before quickly, delicately placing it back down.

“Wasn’t easy, gettin’ it done like that.”

They hummed, an acknowledgement.

“You were paid well enough, weren’t you?”

He grunted, his own acknowledgement.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get your tip.”

The man’s dreary countenance brightened somewhat.

“Be careful lugging that thing around. Don’t want anything.......destroyed.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” they delicately took the package into their own hands, nodded at the man, “These are some of the most careful hands in Gotham.”

The man merely grunted again, and tactfully made no response to that. Truthfully, he had none. With the gait of an altar boy, holding something holy and delicate, they made their way out of the shop. The man watched idly as they began their journey, before grunting again to himself and flipping his magazine back open, once again settled into his boredom.

Meanwhile, Champ made their way down the street, hands cautiously continually readjusting themselves. Too tight, and it could cause a problem. Too loose, and they could drop it, and cause a REAL problem. Too shaky? Another potential problem. They had a ways to take this haul, and mostly on foot. Champ couldn’t deny the weight of the responsibility on them, but running errands for either of their fathers came with risk.

They nudged their ear with their shoulder, muttering into the comm unit. 

“Jason. Package obtained. Delivery in progress.”

There was a muffled crackle in their ear before a reply.

“Acknowledged. Eyes are on the target. They don’t suspect a damn thing.”

“Easy, J-man. Let’s not get too cocky.”

“This from you?”

Champ let out a short harsh laugh, still cautiously maneuvering down the street.

“This isn’t our usual gig, Todd.”

“No,” came a terse reply. “This isn’t.”

“Wow,” came an unexpected third voice, “You guys sound so intense. What is this, a Bruce Impression Contest?”

Champ groaned.

“Tim, how can you even say that? On this, of all days.”

A cackle came through the line.

“Figured you could use the levity. I’m on the roof, by the way. To your left. See me waving at you? I’m here to take care of any distractions.”

Champ carefully eased one hand from the box to flip off the roof.

“Other left.”

Champ sighed.

“This is why I work alone, Tim. You’re the distraction.”

“Oh so this IS a Bruce Impression Contest?”

“How’d I do?”

“Needs a bit more bass.”

“My voice can only go so low, would more gravel suffice?”

“Guys,” Jason interjected, “Focus. Besides. My Bruce Impression is way better.”

Twin scoffs came through his ear piece.

-

Allison was having a very strange day.

That in itself was not so unusual, life in Gotham was strange even if you didn’t have vigilantes crawling through your windows at all hours of day and night.

And they rarely remembered to wipe their feet.

It was the vigilantes themselves that were making today unusual. Notably, the absence of them. Most days, she couldn’t wake up without someone crashing their way through the kitchen, or snoring on the couch, or -god forbid- bleeding in the bathroom, trying to stitch themselves up with dental floss.

(Why dental floss, when she had asked Champ, had been answered with to keep their flesh wounds minty fresh. She had thrown a bar of soap at them and called Alfred to take them home.)

Today, when she woke up, it was to a clean and empty apartment. It was unsettling.

More unsettling when she came into the kitchen and found it, not only un-ransacked, but cleaner than when she had fallen asleep. There was a plate on the table, held under a cloche. Curious, she lifted it to find an assortment of breakfast, as well as a small note.

‘The first of many gifts. A.’

There was a small flower laid in between the cutlery and the orange juice. She lifted it up, touching the soft petals.

“Huh,” she muttered.

A knock came at the door, suspiciously soon after she had finished her breakfast and put the dishes in the sink.

It wasn’t a surprise when she opened it to find Dick waiting. It was a surprise that someone had actually knocked.

“Is this a parallel universe?”

Dick frowned, head cocked to the side.

“Don’t think so. Why, has anyone tried to homoerotically recruit you? That’s usually my tell.”

“That happens to you in this universe.”

“Beauty is a curse.”

“What’s going on, loser?”

He grinned.

“Can’t tell, or secret snipers will kill me.”

She rolled her eyes.

“No, really!” He walked the the small window in the kitchenette and waved cheerfully at the top of the adjacent building. A small red dot appeared on his shoulder. Allison opened her mouth to ask more, then firmly closed it lest she say something inciting.

Are we okay, she mouthed.

Dick winked.

Jason. Laser pointer.

Allison groaned, then shoved his shoulder while he laughed.

“I was really worried!”

“So am I! He still might really shoot me, it’s Jason.”

The laser made it’s way from his shoulder to his head, blinking playfully. She rolled her eyes.

“What are you doing here, anyway?”

His grin went loose and lopsided, entire body relaxing into it. He gave a short, theatrical bow.

“I’m here to escort you through the day.”

“You’re gonna walk me to work?”

His face filled with sorrow.

“I regret to inform you that you are very sick.”

“I’m what?”

“You’re extremely, contagiously ill and you therefore cannot make it into work today.”

“Dick-”

“In fact, we’ve already called ahead and told them. You forwarded them your doctor’s note even.”

“Jesus.”

“No, it was Barbara.”

“Dammit, Dick, what’s going on?”

He practically vibrated with excitement, bouncing on his toes like a child.

“It’s a surprise.”

“I hate surprises!”

“I know,” he lilted, before grabbing her hand and coaxing her to the door, “So we’d better hurry up and get through it all so we can get the surprise part over with!”

Groaning, she relented.

-

When they finally made it to the house, Alfred ushered them in through the back door.

“Dick’s dragging her all over town doing touristy shit,” they reported dutifully, “and I got the package here unharmed.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“That,” he chided, though not unkindly, “Remains to be seen.”

Flushing under their scarf, they placed the box on the table. Gently, the butler lifted the lid. Champ and Tim’s breath was caught in their throats. Alfred looked nonplussed in that exact shade of unbothered that meant he was two seconds away from a heart attack. With the easy precision of a man well acquainted with weapons, he eased it up and deftly set it away to inspect it’s contents. Champ’s heart hammered in their throat. He sighed, and they felt their body freeze.

“I’m s-”

“It’s perfect.”

They paused.

“What?”

“Perfectly well done, dear. Not even any smudges along the edges.”

They let out a proud cry of delight, jumping up and down happily before grabbing Tim in a hug and dancing him around the kitchen. Alfred watched patiently at the two laughed and spun. Bruce ambled in nonchalantly, eating an apple and nursing a black eye.

“Take it the cake got here alright?”

Alfred nodded.

“Hmm.”

He sunk back into the shadows.

They spent the rest of the day preparing the mansion, hanging decorations and hiding presents and bothering Alfred while he cooked until he chased them off with a wooden spoon so they would go and clamber on Bruce instead. Midway through the afternoon Jason showed up, informing them all that they had another hour.

By the time Dick sauntered up the steps with Allison in tow, the entire house was dark and still. This is and of itself was unnerving, as lately the place was usually crawling with extremely loud and energetic people.

“Is anyone home?”

Dick shrugged, grinning.

She creaked open the back entrance. The house had several entrances, the back one being the entrance into the kitchen, originally designated for servants and food delivery in such a way as to be discreet. Now it was merely the family entrance. And also where the food delivery happened. The more things change the more they stay the same.

It was dark, and quiet, and Alli got a sudden impression that it was filled with unseen life. Before she had time to be scared, the lights turned on and loud noisemakers came from everywhere. Champ grabbed her around the waist and twirled her around in a happy hug.

“Dude, did you think we’d forget your birthday?”

Alli laughed.

The whole family was there. Clark smiled politely from the table. Bane was tucked into a corner, glowering calmly with a small but very brightly colored party hat that suggested he was here at Champ’s insistence and determined to enjoy himself. Talia leaned against him. Bruce sighed as the robins all flitted around the room with noisemakers being as loud as possible. Jason grabbed Allison from Champ and gave her his own spin. Dick silently slipped his own party hat on from his pocket, standing next to Alfred with his hat. The house was instantly transformed into a bright and colorful whirlwind of warmth and laughter and food. Allison laughed, steadying herself against her friend.

“Thank you all, for this. Thank you.”

A round of raucous cheers and kazoo noises greeted her.

“But there’s something I have to say, and please know that nothing will change what you’ve all done for me.”

An anticipatory hush fell over the crowd.

“I love you all so much, and this means more than I could possibly say.”

Jason hid his grin behind his hand.

“But my birthday was two days ago.”

A stunned silence rushed the room. It was broken by Jason’s loud laughter.

“They were so sure,” he wheezed out, “They were so proud of themselves I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell them.”

Champ punched his sternum.

“DAMMIT.”

Allison laughed.

[mrslittletall]

Title: A Storm is coming (Chapter 4) Fandom: Dark Souls Characters: Chosen Undead/Dragon Slayer Ornstein (eventual romance), Dark Sun GwyndolinWord Count: 2.443 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16603610/chapters/41826608 Previous chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/182351536699/title-a-storm-is-coming-chapter-3-fandom-dark

Summary: Tempest and Ornstein have some kind of talk. Gwyndolin takes care of Ornstein.

(Author's note: I will admit it right away, writing these parts is difficult. The characters are extremely stubborn, especially Ornstein, and I feel like I have to bend and twist with them so that they act in favour of the story. Please stay with these dorks, I promise they will get better.)

Tempest squeaked in surprise and tried to withdraw his arm, but the grip of the dragon slayer was too strong and he couldn't move a single inch. His hand was still clutching the braid.

“Don't ever think about touching me again.”, the dragon slayer growled.

“I am sorry.”, Tempest squealed. “Would you let me go? You are hurting me.”

“First let go of my hair.”, the knight said and jerked up. Then he suddenly let go of Tempest arm, murmuring “Mistake...”, clasped a hand over his mouth and Tempest instantly knew what the bucket was for and handed it to the dragon slayer just in time before he could soil his blankets. Tempest stepped a few steps back from the bed, releasing the braid, asking himself if he should have hold it nonetheless as he watched the dragon slayer noisily puking into the bucket.

When the dragon slayer was finished, he was fumbling for the jar of water on the night stand and used it to clean out his mouth. He then carefully laid back in the pillows, glaring at Tempest.

“This is your fault.”, he said.

“I thought you wouldn't wake up.”, Tempest said, staring anywhere but into the eyes of the knight.

“How couldn't I wake up when you were so close to me and touching me without my consent?”, the dragon slayer asked. “What were you thinking?”

“...I wanted to know how it feels like...”, Tempest said. “It looked so soft.”

“You could have at least asked first.”

“Would you have allowed it then?”

“No.” The dragon slayer crossed his arms in front of his chest, grumbling a bit, then unfolded them again as if the position had been uncomfortable. “Where's Gwyndolin?”, he asked.

“They asked me to watch over you while they rested.”, Tempest truthfully said.

“Great, so they left me alone with the idiot?”, the dragon slayer murmured.

“I have a name, you know.”, Tempest said.

“Don't care, idiot will suffice for now.” The dragon slayer had a sardonically grin on his face.

“Well then, dragon slayer.”, Tempest said, putting as much coldness in the last words as possible, and sat down on the chair, feeling the glare off the dragon slayer still on him. Well, that felt uncomfortable. It felt like Tempest should do or say anything, getting some small talk started, so that this awkward silence between them would cease.

“So, how was it feeling like having to guard the cathedral for around a hundred years with a cannibalistic brute?”, he asked in as much of a casual tone as possible.

Tempest started to suggest this question had been a mistake, when he didn't get an answer right away. He slowly turned his head to look at the dragon slayer and was greeted by a face which was hardly able to contain the fury of its owner.

“Leave.”, the dragon slayer said between clenched teeth. Tempest shot up, the chair falling down in the process. His gaze fell on the bucket.

“I, uh, I think I will clean this up.”, he said and quickly ran out of the room.

When Tempest returned to the room, the dragon slayer had laid back down in the pillows, but was still awake. Tempest placed the bucket next to the bed, raised the chair and tiptoed away, sitting down at one of the chairs at the table, at a reasonable distance of the knight.

“I think I told you to leave.”, the dragon slayer said coldly.

“Look, I am sorry.”, Tempest said. “I have said something wrong. But the dark sun wants me to watch over you, so I can't leave. I won't talk to you anymore, I promise.”

He heard a deep sigh coming from the dragon slayer. “We need to talk when I am supposed to help you out.”, he said. “Why do you think that what you have said was wrong?”

“Uh, because you clearly were upset about it?”

“You called him a brute.”

Who? Oh, he was talking about the executioner. Wait a moment... from every story he had heard, it always had been said that Ornstein, the dragon slayer and Smough, the executioner hated each other. Smough, because he had never been granted knighthood and Ornstein, because he despised the cannibalistic ways of the executioner.

“...Was that, like, a misconception?”, Tempest asked.

“Smough was so much more then what people depicted him as.”, the dragon slayer started. “He was kind, understanding, soft, cute and... the light of my life.” He clenched his fists. “And then you came along and killed him.”, he hissed. “And you failed to kill me. This is unforgivable.”

Tempest blinked once, then twice, then shot up. “Wait, WHAT?”, he shouted. “You and Smough were like, a COUPLE?” He could hardly believe his own ears. He would blame it on feeling hollowed out, but right now Tempest was in his human form and his ears were working amazingly well.

“Yes.”, the dragon slayer just answered. “So I guess now you'll know why I reacted this way. If I just would have been able to follow him...”

Tempest sat down again: “I am sorry, I had no idea...” The rest of the words was lost when he tried to make sense of all of this.

So, Ornstein, the dragon slayer, and Smough, the executioner, had loved each other. And he supposed they had been happy with each other, as happy as possible living in a dying city at last. And then Tempest had come along and killed one of them. By the lord, would that have happened to him, he would be pissed and devastated too. And nonetheless, the dark sun was expecting them to work with each other? Tempest put his head on the table and sighed. What had he gotten himself into? Should he try and apologize for this? What good would this do? As he was still pondering his option, the dark sun came back into the room.

“Oh, Ornstein, you are awake. How about some food?”, they asked. They noticed Tempest sitting at the table. “Are you two getting along?”, they asked.

Tempest was in the process to open his mouth but closed it again, unsure about what to say, when the dragon slayer spoke: “Don't worry, we will manage.” Tempest saw him smile at the Dark Sun, but it felt kinda pained. Tempest just raised his hand in a thumbs up gesture.

“Some food would be fine, but nothing to heavy.”, the dragon slayer said. Tempest almost offered his help at cooking the meal, but the Dark Sun vanished quickly, muttering “Let's see what I can do.”

Tempest sighed and strolled over to the bed, sitting down on the chair.

“I am sorry.”, he said. “But in my defense, I didn't knew you weren't dead. I thought after the executioner had crushed you, you would be gone for good.”

Tempest could feel the glare of the dragon slayer on him. “And it didn't occur to you to check if maybe the job needed to be finished? Aren't you an elite knight of Astora?” He gestured at Tempest's armour.

Tempest looked down at him, straightening the blue tabard. “Oh, this? It isn't my armour. I picked it up in the Dark Root Garden, it was laying around there on a corpse. I am from Astora, but I never have been a knight. I just couldn't resist putting this thing on, wearing that armour is pretty much every young Astoran's dream.”, he explained.

“Oh...”, the dragon slayer said. “I should have figured this out on my own. Still...”, the eyes of the dragon slayer pretty much pierced into Tempest. “I resent that you didn't check and left me to bleed out and to... survive...” The knight averted his gaze from Tempest and stared at the wall instead.

“I am sorry.”, Tempest said again, not knowing what else to say.

“Apologizing won't help.”, the dragon slayer murmured. “Just let me heal up, try to stay out of my sight and let us get this done as quickly as possible.”

Tempest considered their talk to be over and retreated to the table. A few minutes later the Dark Sun came with a bowl of steaming oatmeal and handed it to the dragon slayer. Tempest watched them sit down next to the dragon slayer and keeping him company while eating. Tempest in the meantime, wondered if he would be able to taste the oatmeal now that he had regained his human form for the moment? Since he had become undead, he didn't had experienced any hunger and when he tried to eat something, it tasted like nothing, but that had been in his hollowed out form. Usually, drinking estus was all he needed. It was also a thing he could taste, even though it pretty much tasted like something had put fire and ashes into a bottle. With nothing better to do, Tempest grabbed for the emerald flask at his belt and inspected the liquid inside. What really was it? It got filled up whenever he touched a bonfire, so was it like, liquid bonfire? His thoughts got interrupted when he heard the Dark Sun say:

“It is time to change your bandages, Ornstein.”

With the estus flask still in hand, Tempest rushed over to the bed. “Wait a moment.”, he said, excitedly waving around the bottle. “Why can't we use my estus? It heals any wound in seconds.” His excitement abated when he felt both the gaze of the dragon slayer and the dark sun on him.

“Idiot, that stuff doesn't work on us. It is an Undead thing.”, the lion knight said.

“Oh...”, Tempest said and then perked up again. “But, what about miracles? That is a god thing, right?”

“When my sister still would be here...”, the dark sun said. “I am not very skilled in them, my field has always been moonlight magic.”

“Crap..”, Tempest said and took a few steps away from the bed. “Sorry, I just wanted to help.”

“Well, I wanted to change Ornstein's bandages now, you can help by getting his hair out of the way.”, the dark sun said. Both Tempest and the dragon slayer froze.

“I... don't think that is a good idea...”, Tempest stammered.

“Yeah...”, the dragon slayer added. “I don't want him to touch me. It makes me uncomfortable.”

“Oh, I should have figured, I am sorry for being so tactless, Ornstein.”, the dark sun said. “But like, feel free to stay here, maybe you learn a thing or two about bandaging wounds. Are you fine with this Ornstein?”

“Ugh, alright.”, the dragon slayer said and Tempest went around to stay at the foot of the bed, inspecting the work of the dark sun.

They started with the bandage around the dragon slayer's head and as soon as it was off, Tempest had to gasp at how bad this wound looked, terribly swollen and bruised along a laceration which had been stitched. It was no wonder the dragon slayer was feeling sick with that, his brain probably had gotten a good shaking. Tempest once more wondered how in the world he had manage to survive this blow? Tempest never had been able to survive a blow with the hammer when he already had been hurt. He watched the dark sun carefully cleaning the wound, making the dragon slayer wince, it surely must had hurt, before applying a fresh bandage. The next thing that happened, was the dragon slayer undressing himself and as soon as Tempest realized that, he turned red under his helmet, averting his gaze, asking himself why he did that, why he felt like that and forced himself to look back.

A slight disappointment and a bit of guilt washed over Tempest when he saw the chest of the dragon slayer wrapped in thick bandages. Both legs too, Tempest remembered that they had been a main focus for him, first because the dragon slayer was twice his size and second to rob him of his mobility. The dark sun was changing the bandages on the legs first, but Tempest was more distracted by the countless scars on the dragon slayer's body, a lot of them clearly burns, a particular large one seemed to adorn the left side of his body, probably even going down the back, but he couldn't see it from his position.

“Don't stare at me like that.”, the dragon slayer hissed, face slightly flushed, and Tempest muttered a quick apology, focusing on the work of the dark sun. Most of the cuts on the legs were already healing good, but one or two were also stitched and it explained why the dragon slayer had stand on so shaky legs when he had first encountered him in the hallway in front of the tomb.

Now that both legs had wrapped into fresh bandages, the dark sun started to unwrap the one on his chest. Tempest did hold in a breath when he saw the large wound, the one he had inflicted, the one that had made the dragon slayer collapse, but exhaled sharply when he saw the big bare chest which was originally covered by the bandages. It was built so well, probably a result from endless battle, but for some reason, it also gave some soft vibes. An urge to touch it washed through Tempest and he quickly had to avert his gaze, after how badly the dragon slayer had reacted to getting touched at his hair, Tempest didn't want to know his reaction when he would touch his bare chest. Especially when the latter wasn't asleep.

Tempest face flushed and he felt a certain hotness rise in his head. Oh no, did he found the dragon slayer to be hot? A guy who could crush him easily with his size and in fact did crush him several times in a fight to the death? Tempest could barely believe this and just muttered “I have to get out of here.”, before rushing out of the room, the hotness in his head feeling like it would spill out any moment. Outside of the tomb he removed his helmet, put his hand against his nose and saw the blood dripping on his gauntlet.

“Oh great.”, Tempest said, leaning against the wall, fumbling for his Estus to take care of his nosebleed. “He doesn't even like you, you fool, and you already are attracted to him...” Next chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/183652108349/title-a-storm-is-coming-chapter-5-fandom-dark

[rain0205-blog]

Terminal State

Summary:  She tried leaving, submerging herself in work to escape the horrors she had seen. The horrors she kept seeing. She never wanted to go back to that life. But when the Empire takes her home, she’s forced to face her past. Can she move on? Can she cope? Or will she require a bit of help? still bad at summaries, still working on it. ever so slightly more than slight AU gadioxoc

Mostly Human

...

The red sky loomed above her. On the ground, the tremors of attacks vibrating through her body. She couldn't move, but she had to save them. As always, she couldn't get up, but she willed herself to, as the fire took over her skin. The azure glow emanated from her body. And then she shook awake. Virum shot up out of her bed, hitting the floor of her bedroom. She was breathing heavily but got it under control much quicker than usual before pushing herself up off of the hardwood, extremely happy that she had taken the time to clean it recently.

The doctor ran a hand through her hair, the light of the sun shining in her apartment windows. She was forced to go home by both Tash and Gin. The two women had ganged up on her, forcing her to take a day off. So she tried it, going home to her messy apartment but she couldn't sleep. Instead, she spent five hours cleaning up the garbage that had festered over the weeks. There were plenty of take-out containers covering all her surfaces that rotted thanks to laziness and inactivity. Virum was exhausted by the time she was done and had collapsed in her bed after doing all the laundry. Her hazel eyes darted toward the clock, noting she had slept for a solid six hours. That was almost a record. Walking into the bathroom, she was impressed that the dark circles under her eyes were hardly visible, not even bloodshot. Hell, she looked completely human, like someone who didn't suffer from sleep deprivation and a sour attitude. Nodding with how impressed she was, she turned on the shower, deciding she might try and make a day of it. It wasn't often that she felt like herself anymore. Virum sighed dreamily as the water turned her skin red instantly, letting it wash over her longer than she needed and soon regretted that she was already halfway done before she thought about having an actual bath. Maybe later.

Virum got out of the shower, turning off the water and drying herself off quickly before walking into her room for clothes, ones that weren't scrubs. When was the last time she wore real clothes? Absently, she thought about it while standing naked in front of her full-length mirror. Living alone meant there was no sense in having modesty, pulling on her underclothes and then wiggled herself into a red skirt with a layer of black lace. It came down to her mid-thigh, with a brighter red shirt donning short sleeves that revealed most of her shoulders. She pulled on a thin, low cut black sweater on top of it, slightly impressed with how she looked. Virum traced her finger carefully over the scar on her neck that was slightly visible before blow drying her hair and letting it flare out. The tips of it just grazed her shoulders, it had grown. She didn't even bother with makeup, looking mostly human today there just wasn't a need, however, she couldn't leave without her jewelry. A small smile found her face as she observed her appearance, satisfied with herself. Mostly human.

The girl walked out of her bathroom and into her kitchen, opening the fridge to see what she had to eat. Beer and various condiments. Right, she didn't spend a lot of time at home, ergo, she didn't have any food to cook. Sighing slightly, she closed the fridge and walked to her foyer. Virum pulled on her black and grey striped fingerless gloves and a pair of boots that zipped up at the side all the way up to her knees. Grabbing her purse, she pulled it on to have it rest at her hip and left her apartment, turning to lock the door after she was halfway to the elevator. Once she got to the bottom of her building she began to walk East. There was no need to take her car anywhere, the place she wanted to go to was close by. There were lots of people out and she put her hands in her pockets as she walked, trying to stay out of the way as the streets were flooded. It really was a gorgeous kind of day, and she was a little sullen that she had slept through most of it. Three blocks down she finally entered the small cafe tucked out of the way. The doctor couldn't remember the last time she ate here, having spent so much time working. Seating herself, she ordered a specialty tea before pouring over the menu slowly. As an afterthought, she pulled out her phone to make sure that the hospital didn't need her and then ordering herself eggs benedict with peameal bacon. She leaned back in her chair, reading local news on her phone to pass the time during the wait.

"Dr. Virum?" she heard a familiar voice call out to her.

The doctor looked up from her phone, surprised to see Prince Noctis and one of his Crownsguard standing in front of her. She recognized him, with green eyes, glasses and a stern look, but she couldn't quite recall his name as it had been a few weeks since she had seen him - though she remembered in a sort of haze that the two of them had gone to the hospital cafeteria and it didn't end very pleasantly.

"Prince Noctis," she bowed her head politely towards him, "I'm sorry, Argentum? Scientia?" she looked at the other man, "I see so many people in a day I'm not trying to be rude."

"Ignis will suffice," Ignis assured her softly, "Though I must say I'm a little wounded I had not made any sort of impact."

"Careful specs or Gladio will get mad," Noctis teased his friend.

"Ah, Mr. Amicitia. Stops by with some sort of ailment at least twice a week," she smiled politely.

"Seriously?" Noctis laughed.

"I was unaware Gladio was spending so much time in the hospital," mused Ignis.

"Oh yeah, he's almost there as much as I am," Dr. Virum said dryly.

"You don't appear to be on your way there now."

"I do get days off. It's just not often I actually take them. But my nurses ganged up on me after noticing my eighteen-day work streak."

"Eighteen days? You're crazy," said Noctis.

She shrugged, "I've gone longer. What's the Prince doing here in this cheap little diner anyway?"

"I love the breakfast here, I live just up the street."

"The building up the street? Three blocks away? Abnormally large?"

"Yeah, that one."

"Are you serious?"

"Quite," Ignis interjected curiously.

"Sorry, it's just, I didn't know all this time we lived in the same building. Small city I guess."

"I'll say," Noctis laughed.

The waitress brought out her food then, and Dr. Virum smiled politely. She then gave menus to the other two, and they took that as an invitation to sit down. The girl looked like she was about to protest but then thought the better of it. This was the Crown Prince, who was she to tell him to go away? Virum sighed as she took a drink from her mug, hoping that no one else would come in to intrude on her day off - mostly that Mr. Amicitia wouldn't stop in at the wrong time and start getting any ideas, or that any onlookers would recognize her either given her present company.

"What's Gladio come in for?" asked Noctis, putting down his menu.

"Nothing interesting. He had a hurt knee, elbow, sore neck. Your other friend, Mr. Argentum, took a shot to the shoulder, not a week after his ankle had healed," she replied, taking a bite of her food, her voice indifferent.

"So that's what happened to him. He said he ran into something."

"Yeah, a mountain of a man."

"Gladio must really like you."

"Yeah well," she put her gaze towards her food, avoiding the studying look that Ignis wore as he regarded her, "He doesn't understand what the word no means. Maybe you can help him figure it out, you both seem like clever people."

"As I said, Gladio will continue his pursuit and wear down your defences," said Ignis, sipping on his ebony.

"Specs is right. Your only hope is to give him the chance," conceded Noctis.

"I don't date Crownsguard," she insisted.

"And yet here you are," said Ignis.

"Your Prince sat down. I'm pretty sure he can sit with whoever he wants, isn't that kind of a perk of being a Prince?"

"It's not like that, really..." said Noctis, looking down at his hands.

Dr. Virum looked at him thoughtfully, then glanced back at Ignis. The Crownsguard just looked at her sympathetically, and she understood instantly. Sighing, she took another bite of her food before speaking up again.

"I don't mind your company, Highness, you're not a Crownsguard," she said in a light tone.

He smiled slightly, "Thanks. But can you drop the formality? It's not really my style."

She returned his smile, "Sure."

...

Virum parted ways with Prince Noctis and Ignis, asking them to keep their little breakfast date to themselves. They agreed, but only if she would meet up with them again on her next day off. She smiled at the broken promise she gave, Ignis knowing full well that she intended to never do such a thing but choosing to keep it to himself, and so, she started walking away from the diner. The breeze blew, mostly warm and it made her feel at ease once more. She didn't return home, not yet, she was enjoying the outside. Insomnia was huge and it had been a long time since she explored it's streets, especially during the day.

The doctor walked toward the central park, a view she had from her home but never actually spent a lot of time in. Kids were playing with their families, couples strolled hand in hand under the clear blue sky, teenagers skittered about with their friends, enjoying their freedom from school. Insomnia was a peaceful city, the real conflicts living on the outside of the magical wall. Virum kept her hands in her pockets as she strolled down the trail, smiling slightly as she walked past the masses. She walked toward a pond, where small children excitedly threw food into the water for the birds to eat. Standing a few feet from the base, she watched the happy families around her and absently brought her hands to her womb, sadness taking over her. Her hazel eyes were distant as she looked over the rippling water and she smiled sadly at her own thoughts. Virum could hear people laughing around her, enjoying themselves while they were out of the house. No one paid her any mind, they didn't even know who she was, didn't look at her with disdain or fear. It felt normal, something she wished she had more often. Of course, she would never admit that she was having a good day with her time off, she couldn't let those nurses push her into more of them.

"Athenacia," she heard a voice beside her.

"Cor," she greeted the Immortal almost coldly as he approached her. Almost.

Cor wasn't in his uniform, just plain clothes like herself. He was a tall man, muscular build, the Marshal of the Crownsguard. Cor Leonis was much like herself, immersed himself in his work so it was rare to see him outside like a civilian. Athenacia hadn't seen him in nearly a year but he hadn't changed much. There were lines on his face as age progression occurs. His hair was still short and brown, no signs of grey yet which was surprising but his light blue eyes were kind, almost sad as they regarded her person. She tore her gaze from him and looked back towards the rippling surface of the water. Cor walked up and stood beside her, his eyes following her own.

"Surprised to see you outside," he commented.

"Same for you," she kept her voice as neutral as possible.

"Walk with me," he instructed.

Athenacia sighed, walking alongside him as he led her down the cement path. Some people looked at them with curious eyes, as Cor was someone that people knew. It was attention she didn't want on her.

"What's this about?" her face was scowling the more her hazel eyes scanned her surroundings.

"Classified," he answered simply.

"Great," she said dryly, "I doubt you tracked me down just to not discuss anything."

"I need you to come to the Citadel with me."

"For what?"

"Classified."

The doctor grunted angrily at the lack of information he was providing her but she had no choice but to follow him as he led her out of the park and toward the busy road. Athenacia recognized his car as they approached it and he opened the door for her to get in. The scowl remained on her face as she begrudgingly sat down, closing the door herself and strapping in her seat belt. Cor went to the other side, getting in himself and turning on the engine. She kept her gaze out the window, the peaceful tranquillity of the park fading out of sight. So much for a pleasant day.

"You going to tell me now?" she asked, now that they were no longer in earshot of anyone else.

"I need your medical opinion on something," was all he offered her, keeping his eyes focused on the road and his hands on the wheel.

Athenacia put her elbow on the window ledge and leaned her head on it, taking her gaze back toward the city. The roads were manageable, traffic not too heavy headed towards the Citadel. That was rare, but then shift change hadn't occurred yet. She didn't recognize anyone walking along the streets, nor many of the advertisements in the electronics trying desperately to gain her attention. The sun was barely visible with all these tall buildings surrounding them, as finally the biggest one of all loomed in front of her. The Citadel was set in the centre of the city, two tall identical towers reaching high into the sky. The doctor knew that the crystal resided in the middle, the magical barrier starting there and flaring out to the outskirts of the solid cement walls.

Cor drove through without an issue as he was a high ranking officer. Once he parked the car and she got out, slamming his door. The Marshal looked at her, about to say something but the hateful glare she gave him said all she needed it to. He rolled his eyes at her attitude and then led the way into the vast fortress, staying at her side. The two of them largely ignoring everyone walking by them in the corridors. Athenacia saw Crownsguard and Kingsglaives alike, some of them eyeing her curiously. Cor brought her toward what she faintly recognized as the throne room, riding the elevator to one of the top floors. It was quick and she soon realized they weren't going there. The Marshal stepped out of the elevator with her behind him and began leading her toward the royal apartments. She was curious now, seeing as she really had no reason to be here. They walked toward the end of the hallway and Cor opened up the door to the room of King Regis.

Her eyes widened a little as he moved aside for her to step in. The room was far more spacious than her own one bedroom apartment. There was a fireplace off on the opposite end of her, a desk for who knows what he was working on. His own private bathroom with the door slightly ajar. To the left she saw a huge window, arched at the top, letting the sunlight flow into it. The four-poster king size bed was directly in its view, and a television hung on the wall before it. Between the bedroom portion and the bathroom was another lounging area with a giant bookshelf behind the seats. King Regis sat in one of them, looking at her with kind eyes and a gentle smile. It had been quite a few years since she had seen him in person and he had also matured rapidly fast for a man his age. His cane was at his side, a bag on the table near him. Athenacia recognized it, a portable medic bag not unlike the one she carried in the trunk of her car. Cor closed the door behind her and walked over towards the King while she stood her ground, unsure of what she was doing here. Was she in trouble? She thought that she no longer needed to say anything, that her requests were fulfilled and she never needed to step foot here again.

"It is good to see you again, Dr. Virum," he spoke in a light tone, greeting her with a polite nod.

"You as well, your Majesty. Athenacia is fine," she also inclined her head towards him, still unsure of herself.

"Did Cor discuss with you why I've called you here?"

"No, he seemed to leave out a huge gap. You know how talkative he can be," she smiled.

He returned it, "I see."

"Didn't think you'd willingly show up if I told you," Cor grunted, crossing his arms.

"You never bothered to try. I wouldn't ignore a command from his Majesty. Oops-" she was bumped by the door opening, and another man stepping in.

"Sorry miss," he said, closing the door behind her and walking towards the King.

"Clarus, you know Dr. Virum," Regis inclined his head towards her.

"Dr. Virum? Athenacia?" the Shield looked in her direction, "It's been a while."

The doctor smiled politely, though still not sure what she was doing here at all, "I'm sorry I don't mean to be rude, but why have you summoned me? I thought that.. well, you know..." she bit her lip nervously.

"We were hoping you'd be able to give his Majesty a physical," said Cor.

"Why me? Don't you have other doctors around here?"

"Not ones that know how to keep their mouths shut or with your... particular skills."

Athenacia shrugged in agreement with his statement, he definitely had a point. Taking off her fingerless gloves, she walked toward the three men, but first to the rounded table. Dr. Virum placed her gloves in the pocket of her sweater, removing that as well and laying it neatly on the back of a chair. She took off her purse and then opened up the med bag. Rummaging through it quickly, she pulled out the stethoscope, placing it on her ears and walking towards the King. Virum listened to his heartbeat, noting the normal sinus rhythm. His airways sounded clear as well, as she moved the scope into two different places asking him to breathe. The doctor went back to the med bag and pulled out a penlight, shining it quickly over his eyes. Satisfied with the results, she moved on to examine with her hands his abdomen and felt nothing out of the ordinary there, in fact, he seemed extremely healthy. Virum continued her exam, checking blood pressure and everything else she needed to do that wasn't invasive. The King was healthier than most people half his age - but he was ageing far too rapidly. The magic he was using to protect them all was taking its toll on him, he couldn't keep this up much longer. Athenacia could see it residing within him, wearing a thoughtful frown as she finished her examination with the tools provided to her.

"Well?" asked Cor.

"You're healthy," she started, looking at the King himself, "But the magic you're using to keep up the wall is draining your life force faster than you can heal. I hate to say it, but you're past your prime. It's going to be time to move on soon, or you'll die much quicker than you anticipate."

"Noctis isn't ready," King Regis insisted.

"Were you not about his age when you took the throne and put up the wall?"

"Roughly. The tale is altered from what they say inside the city and what you may have heard."

"Well put it this way. Assuming the Empire doesn't launch an attack, you can have another few years. But if they come with their guns blazing as they like to, you won't have nearly as much time. You can't sustain an assault, plain and simple."

"So it is as I feared," he said sagely.

"This is why we called you," explained Cor.

"I'm sorry, your Majesty I wish I could give you better news," she looked at the man sadly.

Regis met her gaze but only smiled, "I thank you for your time, Athenacia. I won't trouble you again."

"You sir, could never be a bother to me," she gave him an assured smile, "It's these other pests around you," she looked pointedly at Cor.

"Thank you. Clarus can see you out."

"That's not necessary, I remember the way. Take care, and if you need anything, you can contact me directly," she nodded at him, putting on her purse and sweater.

Athenacia began to walk towards the door, putting on her gloves again as her back was to the three men.

"Cia," she heard Cor call her just as she touched the doorknob. She turned to face him curiously, "Sorry for bringing you in like that."

"Don't mention it," she smiled at him slightly though still with an icy glare before exiting the room.

The doctor walked back the way she came toward the elevators, quickly getting inside pushing her desired floor, the ground. She pulled out her phone, checking for any messages. There were none. It seems the emergency department didn't fall apart without her. Athenacia was little sullen about that. It was a long way to go down, the elevator stopping on various floors for different people. The girl kept herself in the corner during all these transactions, making herself as small as possible so no one would notice her. They didn't, but she was only halfway down. As she got further down, the lift was emptier and then she was the only one inside of it again. Athenacia checked quickly, and it made one final stop as she put her face back in her phone.

"Hey Doc," said the younger Amicitia, a smile on his face as he recognized her while he stepped into the elevator.

"Uh, Mr. Amicitia," she inclined her head politely, a little startled.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, standing beside her and pushing the ground floor again.

"Leaving actually," she replied, hating that she didn't take the chance to get out of the elevator and take the stairs down the remaining floors.

She observed him, noting that he was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, "I'm on my way out myself."

Athenacia just smiled her response, putting her face back in her phone and moving toward the side of the elevator. She darted out quickly once the door opened, walking briskly toward the exit. Biting her lip in annoyance, she could hear his footsteps following her and he caught up to her quickly, walking beside her. The doctor pretended not to notice him, though it was hard when he opened the door and allowed her to step through it. She smiled slightly at him again and practically ran down the stairs toward the gate. The sun had gone down, the lights turning on all around them. The stars were out, it was a clear night.

"You walk here?" he asked.

"Uh, not exactly," she replied vaguely.

"I can walk you home," he offered.

"That's not necessary," she held her hand up in protest, though he kept up his pace beside her.

"It's better if you don't walk by yourself at night, pretty girl in the dark. I don't mind."

"Well, don't you have your car?"

"Lost it for the month. Made a stupid bet," he shrugged grinning, "Look Doc, it's not a date. I'm just trying to make sure you get home safe, that's what we Crownsguard do, protect people."

"I can take care of myself, really. You don't have to trouble yourself."

"No trouble."

"I'm not even going home, I've got to get to work," she continued her argument, though she knew it was futile.

Athenacia didn't actually have to work, she was just afraid that if she walked home he would start showing up there more like he did at the hospital. Not that he wouldn't have a reason to be in the building, she just figured he would find more of a reason to be there. The doctor hated to admit that his hospital visits were the easiest part of her day and did make her feel a bit better - but she would never say that out loud.

"I'll get you there safely," Amicitia assured, continuing to walk with her toward the hospital.

"If you insist," she gave up, internally cursing Ignis for being right.

The Shield smiled, keeping a respectful distance. Athenacia didn't talk much, not about herself anyway. She could only assume that Ignis had warned the big man not to mention her past, so he only asked her about her current work, the infant that she treated while he was there for the accident. The doctor usually turned around the discussion to him and his work. His ego was big enough that he told her all about his training, leaving her to smile at his enthusiasm and the pride he held in his own work. Athenacia could respect it as she took a similar stance with her own patients, especially when she could successfully save them.

The walk was coming to an end as the large tall building of the hospital came into view. The doctor slowed down her pace as they came toward the doors of the emergency department and then she stopped entirely at the ambulance bay. Amicitia stood in front of her, finishing his story and she genuinely smiled at his antics.

"This is my stop," she said, her eyes looking toward the glass sliding doors.

"If you got time we could still grab that beer," he grinned at her.

Athenacia laughed, "Good night, Gladio," she spoke, walking towards the doors without a look back, though a smile was still plastered on her face.

Gladiolus watched her go, kept looking in her direction even as she disappeared out of sight. He still wore that crooked grin, her words ringing in his ears. He was getting somewhere, she called him by name for the first time since they had met.

[betweensceneswriter]

Jimjeran-Chapter 29 : Love Notes

Claire & Jamie write letters to people they love.

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Or Read the Entire Work on Archive of Our Own

Previously on Jimjeran- Chapter 28 : Division of Labor Working out the kinks of newly married life, and figuring each other out a little more.

Dear Murtagh,

     I am happy to tell ye that I’m not a virgin anymore.  Dinna fash, though, I got married first. 

     Her name is Claire, and though she’s a brash American who is clueless about many things, she’s also the first woman I’ve known who made me feel like I was seeing the best qualities of my mother again.  You ken what a wonderful woman Ellen MacKenzie was, so I hope you’ll know I’ve chosen well.  My da always said when the right woman came along, I would just know.  And I just knew it the first day I met her.  Surprisingly, she happened to be stitching up a rather large wound on my arse, but that’s neither here nor there.

     So, I’m married, and I’m no longer a virgin.  It’s a good thing I didn’t know how amazing sex was, cause I would probably have been as bad as a wild boar, rutting with every female I could.  I am grateful, though, that I didn’t; grateful for my ma’s advice and for your encouragement. 

     My wife, Claire, has said several times how delighted she is to have been my first, and how special it is to not be competing with countless other women in my mind.  Somehow I doubt that there’d be much competition—she’s generous, this one.  And hungry for contact, eager to be with me, and enthusiastic in many ways, including….you ken. I know a gentleman doesn’t talk, but suffice it to say that I can have no complaints in that department.  She can have a sharp tongue, but knowing my sister as ye do, and having known my mother, you know I’m used to quick-witted women.

     I remember you saying that Laoghaire was well enough to hang out with, but she wasn’t the kind of girl I needed to marry, and because of that I shouldna bed her.  You said I should marry a woman.  I didna ken what you meant at the time, but now I do. Because Claire is a woman. Intelligent, funny, interesting, and passionate.  She’s a nurse practitioner, also serving in the Peace Corps here on Arno. And through a strange set of circumstances, she ended up proposing marriage to me.  And because I am not that much of a millennial, then I proposed to her.  J

     I mentioned she’s an American.  Her parents live on Guam—her dad is a chaplain, a major in the US Air Force, and we plan to visit there for Christmas.  She has said she wants to visit Scotland this summer.  I believe that by that time, I should have completed my community service hours, and I may be able to have my record expunged since I have not only completed my college degree but will have also taught two years by then.  I should be able to enter the country without incident, but I may need you to make certain for me.  I wouldna want to get there and not be able to see family; nor would I wish to be embarrassed in front of my wife.

     If you are able, I would so love for you to make a visit out here.  I wouldn’t be generous enough to let you stay with us, though.  A man has to have his boundaries, and may I just say, you wouldna sleep very well anyway.  J  Rupert and Angus still have my bed in their apartment, so there would be a place for you to stay. 

     As always, know you are in my thoughts often, and that when I do remember to pray, you are in my prayers.  Sometimes living out in such a beautiful place, walking and breathing are as much praying as anything.  You feel close to both nature and God.

     I miss you deeply.

Love,

Jamie

        Jamie and I sat in bed, each with a pad of paper.  Jamie wrote his tight printing with a black pen and my loopy script was in purple.

     “So, who are you writing to tonight, Ripālle?” Jamie asked.

     “My good friend Joe,” I said.  “We went through the nurse practitioner program together, and ended up both being hired at the same clinic in Boston.  Of all the people I know, he’s the one I want to tell about you the most.”

     “So you’d say he’s your friend, more than Frank?” Jamie asked.

     “Oh, definitely,” I said.  “Joe and I bonded through classes and labs and practicums.  I think Frank and I may have gone out with Joe and his wife once, but they’re older than us, and they have a couple of kids.  As a couple we didn’t have much in common.”

     “I’m glad ye have a friend you can write to, though,” Jamie said, “Not just family.”  I nodded in response.

       “Who are you writing to?” I asked, peeking over at his paper.  Jamie blushed, turning the pad away from me so I couldn’t see it.

       “My godfather Murtagh,” Jamie said. “I’m telling him about you, and I’m not really ready for you to hear what I think about you.”

      I tried to overcome my extreme curiosity to know what Jamie could possibly be saying that he didn’t want me to see. “Where does Murtagh live?  How was he connected to your family?”

      Jamie set the pad of paper down.

       “Oh, I didn’t want to interrupt you,” I said.  “You just hadn’t mentioned him before.”

       “Murtagh was one of my dad’s best friends growing up.  He’s a Fraser, too, but a distant cousin.  From the way he talks about my mom, I wonder if maybe he was in love with her too.”

       “But your dad got the girl?” I asked.

       “Aye,” Jamie chuckled, “Ellen MacKenzie, fiery in both hair and temperament.”

       “And your dad?” I asked.

       “Jet black-haired Brian.  Handsome, kind, romantic.”

       “So who does your sister Jenny take after?” I asked.

       “Da’s hair, Ma’s spunky disposition.” Jamie grinned.

       “You haven’t told me, Jamie, what happened to them,” I said quietly. “You don’t have to right now, but I hope you’ll trust me enough to share that part of your life sometime.”

       “Well,” Jamie said, “Mail doesn’t go out until Monday.  I’ll have plenty of time to finish my letter to Murtagh...”  He looked down at the page.  “I’m just singing your praises,” he said bashfully.  “It’s nothing bad at all.  But he kent I was a virgin, and he’s a man, so maybe I’m sharing a little more than I want you to hear.”

      I set my paper aside as well, curled up next to Jamie, and leaned on his shoulder, but he adjusted his position to put his arm around me.  I sighed once I was leaning against his chest, and he chuckled.  “I like it, too, Ripālle,” he said. “Well, where do I begin?”

       “Maybe with the happy part,” I said.  “Tell me about your family.”

       “I grew up in the Highlands of Scotland, in a village called Elrick—it’s on the outskirts of Inverness.  Have you heard of Inverness?”

       “Can’t say that I have,” I said.  “Sorry.  Self-centered American…isn’t that your name for me?”

       “Then, have you heard of Loch Ness?”

       “Yes, that I have,” I chuckled.  “Nessy, the Loch Ness monster…”

       “Inverness is on the River Ness, and Loch Ness…”

       “Must be a lake on the River Ness…” I said.  “It’s okay, Jamie.  You probably don’t know much about Guam—I’ll show it to you.  And you can show me Scotland.  Then I’ll be able to place all your stories.”

       “Aye,” he said, seeming satisfied.

       “Small town, and my da was just a small farmer, and he had a stable where he boarded and trained horses.  I learned to ride and helped him with the chores around the stable.  My ma, Ellen, she was a teacher.  I suppose that’s what made me think of teaching when the time came.  I was just used to seeing the projects my ma had planned for her students, and she would test things out on Willie and me before she tried them at school.”

       “So Jenny was two years older than you, and Willie was three years younger?”

       “Aye,” said Jamie.  “I was sixteen, and Janet was eighteen, and Willie just thirteen, when he and my Ma were killed in a car accident.  They were just driving home from school, in some torrential Scottish rain.  Sometimes it would get so bad, the wipers on the car just couldn’t wipe fast enough.  We’re not quite sure how it happened, but it was on a tight corner.  The car skidded off the road and tumbled down a steep embankment.  They both had their seatbelts on, but it wasn’t enough.  By the time the emergency services got to them, they were both gone.”

       “I’m so sorry, Jamie,” I said.  I felt, all of a sudden, like I should be holding him instead of him holding me.   But he started stroking my hair, running his fingers through the haphazard curls, and occasionally pressing his lips to my head.

      "Her hair was red, but it was curly, just like yours.  You remind me of her, a lot, Claire."

      I turned and looked at him.  His eyes were moist.  “Oh, Jamie,” I said, getting sympathy tears.  I kissed him, then settled back against him.

       “When she died, my world fell apart,” he said.  “I was a good student, hard worker, responsible son.  And I didna understand why God would let a perfect woman die.  And Willie, too.  He looked like me, ye ken, but he was the sweetest of us.  Janet and I fight and butt heads wi’ each other, but Willie didna fight.  He had a kindness in him that neither of us had.  So I didna understand.  And I was angry.”

       “Of course you wouldn’t understand.  Of course you would be angry,” I said.  “I certainly hope no one ever told you it was part of God’s plan.  I don’t think that’s ever true of death.”

       “Ye know, some did.  And that was when things turned south for me.  An angry boy fell in with some angrier, older boys.  Boys who used drugs to escape their anger and turn off the pain for a while.  Boys who needed money to support their habits, and ended up breaking and entering, and eventually, getting caught.”

       “You can’t blame yourself,” I said.  “You were young.”

       “Aye,” said Jamie.  “But I do blame myself for my dad’s death.”

       “How?” I asked.  “How can you?”

       “Because at my sentencing hearing, when my da heard the charges against me read, he fell down in a faint.  And when they took him to the hospital, they found he had suffered a massive stroke, and he was gone.  I lost both parents and my brother in the course of two years.”   

      Jamie was speaking almost woodenly now, as if it was just too much for him. 

       “Jamie, can I hold you for once, please?  You’ve comforted me so many times, can’t I comfort you?” I turned, and pulled him into my arms, maneuvering us until we were lying down and he was resting his head on my chest.  I stroked his hair, whispered my own words of comfort, and let him grieve.

Dear Joe,

     When I first brought up the idea of serving in the Peace Corps, I remember you encouraging me to go, saying to me that you were tired of watching me live a half-life.  I guess I didn’t know what you meant.  Or I thought I knew what you meant, and now I really understand. My life was comfortable, familiar, sanitary, affluent, organized, and unsatisfying. 

     Coming out here to Arno was a ridiculously unsettling choice.  My first few days, I felt like I was constantly crying, whether from being overwhelmed, missing Frank, questioning my choice, or pure exhaustion from having to draw every bit of water I used from the well.  I wasn’t eating very well, either, but I’m doing much better now.

     I feel alive, Joe.  I feel useful, and needed.  And I also feel like I have no idea how to say what I have to say next.

     I am married.  And not to Frank—who broke up with me by letter about a week ago.  I met and fell in love with a red-haired giant of a man named Jamie Fraser.  He’s Scottish.  He’s an elementary school teacher, and he is…I’m afraid to say it.  I’m afraid if I spell it out, I’ll be wrong.  Or that it will all fall apart.  But I’ve been honest with you, so I guess I just better spill it.

      Jamie is my soul mate.  There it is.  Without effort, without hours of couple’s counseling and lists, and reading books together and reminders, he gives me what I need because it comes naturally to him.  And what I can give him is enough.  He’s not constantly scolding me for my irresponsibility, or making me feel like I can never live up to his standards.

     He is young.  I mean, younger than me.  Is five years a huge amount of time?  It doesn’t feel like too much.  I feel young when I’m with him.  Adventurous.  Alive.

     So I don’t know what the future holds, Joe.  While I certainly may return to working at the clinic with you, I have a husband who is Scottish and a teacher, and where we settle will depend on him, too.

     Write me soon.  Don’t use all caps or swear too much.  Remember, you were the one who told me I was living a half life.

Love ya,

Claire

Chapter Notes: Letter writing was a consistent part of our lives on Arno.  Without the ability to talk to the people we loved on the phone, it was the only way to stay in contact with the outside world.  Sometimes we would write our letters like a daily journal entry, packaging them up on mail day once a week.  And letters to us were precious--read and re-read multiple times.

On to Chapter 30 : Date Night They’ve been married for a while. They really should go on a first date!

[agrapefruitspassions]

How to Break off a Toxic Friendship...or at least how to recognize you’re in one

   I’ve been thinking for a while about how to write this post, mainly because the story is long and complicated, but also because it deals with an issue that EVERYONE experiences from time to time. Even if a friend isn’t completely toxic (which mine turned out to be), we all outgrow friendships sometimes. It’s part of life. I also don’t want to waste 500 words on my personal life, even though I know everyone likes a little bit of gossip and drama that doesn’t involve them. So, who’s up for some guilt-free reading?

   I’ll try to make this summary short and sweet. Basically, I was profoundly wounded, over and over again, by one of my “best” friends--let’s call her Rachel. Lol. Because that’s her name. And I’m not a real journalist, just a personal blogger who happened to get fucked over by her. She was also one of the friends I’ve had the longest, dating back from high school. Many of you who know me, probably know her, or at least know of her. So. Rachel decided to get married, and asked me to be her maid of honor. She lives in Florida, and I live in Spain. Recognizing the financial challenges this would present me with, I still wholeheartedly agreed to be her maid of honor, although I did suggest that maybe one of her friends who also lived in Florida should share the role me, as I obviously wouldn’t be able to plan a bridal shower or bachelorette party, because, duh. I live thousands of miles away. (She rejected this option, for the record.) For the following 15 months, we talked only about her wedding. And the rhetoric got more and more brutal--and more and more hurtful--as we went, especially as I reached what I will call my “financial limit”, also known as a budget.

   When that finally happened, and I officially couldn’t spend any more money on makeup, hair, or anything else, it became much clearer where I stood with her and how little I meant to her. But since I live so far away, it was easy to push to the back of my mind and not think about. Here is just one example (my second favorite one, I’m saving my favorite one for later) of the conversations we would have: Rachel wanted me to spend $70 to get my hair done, which I realize is not a ridiculous amount, but after having spent SO much money on a flight, a rental car, the dress, etc., I was feeling particularly strapped for cash, and so I told her that getting my hair done was just not in the cards for me.

   “Well we have 83 days until the wedding...couldn’t you just save $1 a day?”

   Honestly, I was shocked. Where was my friend? Where was her compassion, her empathy for me? I tried to continue:

   “It’s just that I’ve already spent a lot of money, and I still I have so much left to pay for, it’s going to be a really expensive trip, and plus, I think that the most important thing is that I will be there on your special day.”

   I was met with silence. Silence that lasted for so long, I started to count the seconds as they went by. Let’s just say that was an awkward conversation closer. She later (as in a completely different conversation later on) went on to tell me that she “knew she was being petty” but she had “paid a lot of money for a photographer” so she deserved to be petty. Again, where did my friend go?

   I’m sure you’re all saying by now, “how could you not realize that this hideous person wasn’t your friend anymore?” And all I can say is, I don’t really know. I supposed some part of me knew, but I just didn’t want to see it. I wanted to hope that the friend I had known would come back. As you can tell from the title of this post, she didn’t.

   I tried one last time to salvage things. I called her. I told her there was tension between us, and I wanted to clear it away, because she deserved to have nothing but happiness on her wedding day. She blamed me for the tension, saying that I made her feel guilty. This went on for an hour. Even when I told her I felt like she no longer wanted to be my friend anymore, there was no moment where she even pretended to be sorry that she had hurt my feelings.

   And here comes my favorite example. As many of you know, I am also getting married in December. (YAY!) And so after we had “cleared the air”, I asked her if she still wanted to come to my wedding in December, as I would just rather know now than find out later. After making some excuse about “plane tickets being expensive” (REALLY? I didn’t know! *Sarcasm*), she told me, “It would just be more convenient for me if you could get married in June.”

!@#^&Y^%$#@!

   So I guess that wasn’t really that short, but it was an extremely stressful situation for me, and also the first time in my adult life that I had to cut a toxic "friend” out of my life. I don’t let this show about me (at least I don’t think I do), but I absolutely hate confrontation. I mean, who doesn’t really? And after this last conversation--it would indeed be our last--I had to face the facts. Even though I desperately wanted my friend to come back, she had left a long time ago and it didn’t seem that she was going to return. All I had wanted was an apology, a moment of compassion, where she acknowledged my feelings, but it never happened. 

   After all of this, I have come up with a couple tips. They might seem pretty simple now, but boy oh boy, just try to remember them when you’re in the thick of it! Would have saved me lots of time and money, not to mention loads of guilt and stress.

1. Listen to the words the person tells you, but pay more attention to their actions. The actions are where it’s at, baby. If your “friend” is telling you they want to be friends with you, but their actions show a different story, then as Dan Savage says, “Dump the motherfucker already!” Otherwise known as, DTMFA.

2. The moment someone stops showing you the love, compassion, and/or empathy you deserve, leave (because we all fucking deserve those things from the people who supposedly love us). DTMFA! This can be hard to see, and it takes a lot of people treating you shittily to recognize, but man, when you finally do, get the fuck out of there!

3. Listen to your gut. Even when it’s whispering. Because 100% of the time, it will be right. Along with this, also pay attention to your physical reaction to things. If your gut clenches, bad sign. If you can’t eat or sleep, get rid of them.

   P.S. These all apply to family as well--family members can be toxic, and just because they are family doesn’t mean you have to stick around. The moment I truly learned this, my life improved immensely.

    I will leave our last interaction, and quite possibly the moment you've all been waiting for--namely the “did she go to the wedding moment??”, here; immortalized on the internet forever, so that I can feel as though I tried my hardest to be a decent person and a decent friend until the very end, and end this post on a contented note (because after all this, I am happier without her in my life):

Me: So this has been one of the hardest decisions I've ever had to make, but I will not be attending your wedding, and by extension neither will my mom, Toño, or Bethany. And it is important to me that you know why. I feel as though we stopped being friends a long time ago and I just didn't realize it..that the most important thing to you is your wedding. While your wedding is important, to me what mattered more is our friendship. And it doesn't seem like you feel the same way, and I am deeply hurt by this. Not once have you asked about how our trip is going, or about the reception we had in erie, or anything about my life at all. I am getting married too and it gives me great joy, and I feel like that should only add to your joy. But it seems to me as though that is not the case, and it confuses me and hurts me. I could go on with more examples, but I think what I've already said suffices. You said our friendship was changing and evolving, but I think it ended a while ago and I just didn't see it. Maybe I'm wrong, but every time we have talked in the last six months (or maybe more) I have left the conversation feeling like shit, and that is not how a friendship should be. I feel like the only thing that matters to you is that I show up to your wedding to keep the numbers even, and that after your wedding you will drop our friendship anyways. Like I said, i could be wrong. But that's what my gut is telling me. So I'm calling it now. I wish you the best and happiest life with Dan and hope you get everything you want. I will cherish our memories.

Rachel: You have caused me so much stress and above all sadness. None of this deserves a reply but you should know that. If you think it's about numbers then that means we lost our friendship even before I thought we did. For the record, I went through a hurricane (and plenty of other life things) and you also never asked how I am. So whatever you're feeling, I feel the same exact way about you and your situation. Good bye.

   Pettiness, bullshit, selfishness, and absolutely no compassion or recognition from her until the very end! She truly showed me her true (ugly) self. 

   By the way, whoever thinks blogging isn’t therapeutic should really try it out, by the way.