#thane staring point blank at her: no one will know

[drunkenworgen]

—

Gin accepted the robe, but set it on the bed for now. It would be too long on her and get in the way while trying to get the clothing down.

“‘Elp me up, then. Don’ hafta put it back on, bu’ ah should prob’ly get it an’ yer shoe down. We’ll leave th’ ‘at up as a reminder fer now.”

( @thaneirstaer )

Thane would be greeted by the sight of a runic brand, deep violet against the pale skin of Gin’s back as she rolled onto her right side, before scooting closer to the warmth that was Thane.

Lips against the back of her hand, and a hand that ran over her back before moving and wrapping around her, keeping her close. The reality of the last night setting in, but the weariness of partial consciousness refused to let any other response come through the weariness that was fading in him. A quiet, low rumbled morning greeting came from his throat as he kissed her neck and moved, resting his head against the back of hers.

[ehlnofay]

The Dragonborn does not speak at the council, for all the trouble she went to arranging it.

She sits in a straight-backed chair at the head of the table, her sword in its scabbard resting against the stone. (She was the only one permitted to carry a weapon into the assembly.) Lydia, her sharp-faced housecarl, is seated to her left.

It’s the Dragonborn’s council, for all intents and purposes – it may not have been her idea, but it was she who petitioned for it, persuading Arngeir and then the war-leaders and the dignitaries they dragged with them. It was for her sake alone (Dragonborn, Ysmir, legend come to life) that some agreed to attend at all.

But when the council finally begins, kings and warriors crowded around the long stone table, she is silent. An argument begins immediately, Ulfric objecting to Thalmor presence within the negotiations and Tullius objecting to his objection, and it splinters off into something thorny and onerous. It takes half an hour for discussion to begin properly – and then someone says something and they’re off again, everyone around the table coiled tight and wary, and the Dragonborn stares into the middle distance and offers no thoughts.

It doesn’t stop, the talk of trading holds like game pieces and demands that the armies’ leaders be compensated for massacres that never touched them. Arngeir tries to quiet them, and Esbern’s desperate passion riles them up, and when half of the room has leapt to its feet and voices echo off High Hrothgar’s sacred, watching stones, the Dragonborn finally speaks –

Which is to say, she claps her hands over her ears and spits a Word that rips the voices from their lips and the room is finally, mercifully silent.

Her housecarl, the only one who does not seem startled by this, places a hand on the back of her chair and says, “Thane?”

The Dragonborn uncurls, removes her hands from her head, lays them flat on the table.

“I don’t understand,” she says, slow, as though the words are weighed down. She isn’t looking into the middle distance; her eyes shift from face to face like she is trying to meet everyone’s gaze at once.

Galmar Stone-fist, standing by a chair to her right, claws at his fur-lined collar. “We have –”

“Let the Dragonborn speak,” Lydia interrupts, voice and eyes steely. Galmar’s face twists, but he falls silent.

The Dragonborn presses her hands into the stone tabletop.

“Do you believe,” she says, “that the dragons will leave your side alone?”

On the other side of the table, General Tullius raises a sceptical brow. He leans back into his chair. “If you have a point, then make it. We don’t have time for more nonsense.”

Her eyes snap to him. Lydia repeats, “Let her speak.”

The Dragonborn holds up a hand.

“Do you believe,” she enunciates carefully, “that the dragons care anything for your war? None of this matters.”

“On the contrary –”

“Alduin will tear your cities down,” she tells them. Her eyes are eerie dark as holes too deep to track, and even her housecarl is staring at her now. “Only I can stop it. Until you get out of my way, you are fighting over rubble.”

There is, again, silence. Arngeir is visibly thankful for the reprieve; High Hrothgar’s walls, unused as they are to such uproar, can once again, if briefly, know peace.

Ulfric stood up sometime in the yelling; he has not sat back down. He is leaning a little on the stone back of his chair as he says, “You called us here in hopes of a ceasefire, Dragonborn. Truces aren’t made of empty air. Terms have to be negotiated.”

The Dragonborn stares him down. Her palms remain flat on the table; her sword stays resting against her chair.

“But you aren’t negotiating with him,” she says, the words still heavy, still slow. “You’re negotiating terms with me.”

There is a pause. The watchful stones soak in the silence.

“With you,” the Legate replies.

The Dragonborn’s face is blank. “If you truce, I will fight Alduin.” She speaks the weighed-down words as though they are the most natural thing in the world. “If you don’t, I won’t. Your cities will fall as Helgen, and you will die afraid. Those are my terms.”

Lydia places a hand, palm up, on the table. The Dragonborn covers it with her own, mimicking the pose of the wrist, the splay of the fingers.

“Now,” the Dragonborn announces, her voice a laggard echo of Arngeir’s opening speech, “who would like to begin the negotiations?”

(There is no shouting during the rest of the peace council.)

[nothisis-ridiculous]

Duplicity

An AU where Kaidan joins Cerberus for the events of ME2.

Chapter Nine: Of Explosions, Traps, and Thresher Maws

"Who did you blow to get access back?"

Mary looked up from the safety of the relatively stationary floor of the shuttle. This wasn't a day where the nausea meds worked to full effect, but she could suffer through a grin, "Illusive Man didn't appreciate Leng's interference with our mission."

"What a bosh'tet."

"You should still avoid him, if possible."

"Come on, Shep! Give me a reason to smear him against the cargo bay walls," Jack retorted with a smug grin.

Tali huffed, "I can take care of myself!"

Mary rubbed at her temples, focusing again on the grooves in the flooring, "we might be pushing it already."

"As I said," Jack sighed, "it's an empty facility. Since when did you give a fuck about what Cerberus thinks? Did you drink Cheerleader's kool-aid?"

"I jumped at the idea of blowing up this facility if my urgency was not noted," she retorted, "and only if it was cherry flavored. Unfortunately, it tastes like watered down orange."

"You're fucking weird."

"I'm sure someone likes orange flavoring."

"And they would be wrong, and besides, have you ever tasted orange?"

"That's beside the point, Shepard."

"Why is the bastard even here?" Jack interjected, becoming the voice of reason.

Mary puffed out her cheeks, "he was elusive about it. Leng mentioned something about a confidentiality breach. Tali, did you try and hack their systems?"

Tali shook her head, "if I did, they wouldn't have caught me."

Shepard grinned.

"Cerberus has the entire Normandy bugged, and not to mention that AI. I wouldn't do something like that without you knowing about it."

Mary nodded, "I thought so. If I wanted to get rid of those bugs, what would I need to do?"

Tali went silent.

"Way to ruin your plan," the biotic gently mocked.

"Who is Kai Leng to you?"

Jack leaned back in her seat with a growing scowl, "him and some Cerberus bitch tried to capture me. It didn't happen, but some mercs got me instead."

"That explains how you got to Purgatory," Mary murmured in response.

Jack shrugged, not interested in further explaining that particular defeat.

"Please be careful with him; even Miranda seemed spooked," she cautioned gently.

"Cerberus has really got you by the balls."

The blond flinched, "I'll have you know I ignored an urgent message from the Illusive Man to bring you here." It was a poor attempt at a deflection; everyone aboard the Normandy knew about her history with a certain crewmate. Worse was the presence of nearly every friend she had left in the galaxy. Most brought in by her. She had no doubts that the Collecter threat was overly sensationalized, but for the time being, it what her only option in stopping the threat. Anderson had seen the threat for himself, but whether or not he could help remained unknown partially because she was afraid of a formal admonishing.

"I forgot how much I hate this place."

~~~

"Shepard-- we caught a break."

Predictably, the break was a trap. Mary wasn't liking the new habit of trampling through her ship in armour fresh from a fight. Or how annoyingly composed the Illusive Man always was, even in her impromptu meeting, he was waiting with a cigarette and drink in hand. The bastard knew what he had done. Worse, he was ready for her to explode.

"In the meantime... I suggest you tell your crew I didn't risk their lives unnecessarily," whether or not the microscopic curl of his lip was imagined in the end, "it would make things easier going forward."

"I'll tell them the truth, screw this half-truth bullshit," Mary leaned back on her heel, folding her arms.

"Our reports missed the petulant child side of you," he took a long drag, flicking away the butt, "can't you see this was necessary."

"Not in the way you handled it."

His pupils narrowed as he stared at her, mouth kept in a thin line. Boldened by this slip, Mary pushed it, "you'll be lucky to have my crew after this."

"Who, exactly, is going to help you? The council already dismissed you once. The Alliance doesn't care about the humans in the Terminus Systems," his posture and blank expression returned, "unless you don't care about the abducted colonies and the Reaper threat anymore."

"Fuck you!"

He issued a long and drawn-out chuckle, "I expected better behavior from you, Shepard. Be an adult, and put aside your petty grievances. You need me to stop this threat."

The coldness pierced her heart first, spreading through her veins with incredible speed until it froze the tip of her fingers. The frigidity of her body forcing her face in a neutral expression, "Akuze was no petty grievance, you conniving prick."

She couldn't lose much more face, so stomping off without a pause was well within her wheelhouse.

"Mary?"

Kaidan knew that look, not that he had to be blocking her way to read it. The emotionless mask was there for only a select few emotions, and all urged him to reach out. Whatever it was, at least meant he wouldn't have to explain why he hovered around the briefing room. He stood his ground, allowing her the time to breathe before he attempted to pry it out of her. Eventually, her shoulders dropped for the briefest moment before squaring back up.

"Talk to me," Kaidan murmured gently, "what happened out there?"

Shepard's posture had corrected, but the mask had yet to fall. Moving him into unfamiliar territory, so he waited for her to speak. Timidly, slowly, placing his hand on her pauldron once the time elapsed into the space of no response.

"Shepard," he called.

First, her body lurched forward, he instinctively moved to pull her in, but the arm that reached around him corrected course and shoved him aside. Perhaps a little harshly, as his back met the metal wall of the hallway. Finally, the mask slipped, catching the moment her eyes filled with regret that morphed with the half-assed raising of her arms, "it was a trap."

Mary spun away to the right, sputtering another few choice words as Mordin collided with her across the opening doorway.

"Go get Grunt ready; we're headed to Tuchanka."

~~~

"You've had a lot more poker practice, Alenko," the turian mused in defeat.

"Back then, I was never invited," the biotic returned snidely.

"Only because Shepard took you everywhere," Tali added wistfully, "you were both so moony-eyed."

"Is that your excuse for always losing, Vakarian?" Kaidan grinned, fighting a bittersweet blush, "careful Tali, you'll start slipping."

"You were all formally crewmates?" Thane finally decided to speak from his corner of the mess hall table. His gaze lingered longer on the human. The other two were obviously connected to Shepard. His short time aboard the Normandy, he hardly saw the Commander and this man in the same room.

The human's next smile a little less forced, "yeah. With Joker at the helm. Those were crazy days."

"Much simpler times, just chasing a rogue spectre across the galaxy."

Tali hummed, "it felt more heroic back then."

"To hell with Cerberus," the man muttered.

Thane stood from his seat, this talk of the past making him feel further like a stranger in this group. Why Officer Alenko had invited him in the first place was a mystery, he hadn't attempted to speak with anyone. Not out of malice but out of desire. Shepard's words about him socializing with the crew to find meaning the sole reason he attempted this game.

The three looked up at him in unison.

"We can change the game."

"You can just stay and talk if you want."

"Look at you guys scaring away the new blood."

Thane glanced between the group; they were a good sort. He shrugged in an effort not to disappoint them, returning to his seat; he had little else of import to do.

"How about a game of go fish?"

The turian turned to the man, "isn't that a children's game?"

"I thought keeping your credits would be an enticing offer," Kaidan returned smugly.

"I already owe you a small fortune when you do decide to collect," the turian drawled, "might not be wise to encourage you to do so."

"I'm banking on interest too, Garrus."

"You would," Garrus chuckled, his eyes sweeping to the quarian, "but Tali, I've always wondered why your faceplate is tinted. Doesn't that distort your vision?"

"Garrus my e-"

Grunt barrelled by the table, taking the L2's attention with him. Adding biotics to the already large Krogan only increased his appetite, especially after a fight. The youngster looked pleased, settling down at the table with whatever was easiest to sweep into his arms—tearing into the still bagged loaf of bread sideways, the group watching with mixed reactions.

"Grunt," Tali was the first to scold, "you should be a little more careful."

"He's just a growing boy, Tali," Garrus replied.

The krogan looked up and around the table with a sheepish grin, "I am a boy no longer. I have passed the rite, and with my battle master, have defeated a thresher maw! You should be in awe!"

"That's no small feat-" Thane finding himself suddenly the chatty one.

"It was glorious! A worthy opponent. So big and in your face," Grunt continued to gloat through mouthfuls of bread and plastic.

"And Shepard?" the man dared to ask.

"The best battle master. Our enemies should be afraid!"

"Was she upset?" Tali pressed.

"No- she fought bravely."

Garrus was next to speak, "nothing odd?"

The krogan groaned, "she fought well. So well, she was too tired to speak."

Kaidan shuffled from his chair, hesitating as the turian and quarian took turns locking eyes with him, "am I supposed to sit here and do nothing?"

"I wouldn't test her patience."

Tali folded her arms, "what could you even do? Guilt trip her again?"

"Ouch," Kaidan flinched, running a hand through his hair, "I deserved that one."

Grunt looked around the table, cocking his head to the side. Thane went still, achieving a far better understanding of the situation than the confused krogan. Until Miranda, followed by Kai Leng burst from the second officer's office, both beelined for the elevator. Garrus, Tali, and Kaidan moved to intercept the pair.

"Out of our way," the Cerberus assassin seethed.

"Do you have a death wish?" Garrus tried to defuse him with humor and a well-intentioned claw on his shoulder. It did not work; the man's eyes only narrowed the anger held in his posture, doubling.

"Keep your dirty talons off of me, bird!"

Tali pulled Garrus back, allowing Kaidan to get in the way.

"That wasn't necessary," the biotic stated bluntly.

Leng rolled his eyes, "and neither is whatever fit Shepard is having in the elevator."

"So you're going to make it worse by demanding she stop?"

"Kaidan, we can't let her damage the ship," Miranda added gently.

"Yeah, I know," Kaidan sighed, rubbing at his temples, "but she won't. I don't think she will, anyway. It's her way of coping."

"By letting off biotic charges?"

"Yeah, I know, but has she damaged anything?"

EDI piqued up, "damage remains cosmetic."

Miranda placed her hands on her hips, "well, this is why we hired you, Alenko. Make her stop, or we'll be forced to act."

"Next time, a little warning after she's faced a Maw would help."

~~~

Riding through the elevator of the Normandy was an old pastime. Something about being crammed into a small space with blank walls let her think. About the good, about the bad, about anything that needed her consideration, really. She had spent hours in the old elevator; they moved much too quickly in the new ship. With more floors and staff came more distractions.

Usually, it involved much less biotic discharge, but this time that display kept the peace. The strain to keep it contained and from flaring too brightly occupied her mind pushed out the thing... the creature... that kept trying to wedge back in her mental space. Pulling it all back in, only characterized by a faint aura around her form, was another challenge. She kept her back to the person.

Ignoring it until the crinkling of a bag pulled her attention.

The opened bag revealing the light reddish-brown contents within, "I thought you might be hungry."

She looked Kaidan up and down, resting on his gentle gaze. Why was she so stubborn? Was he really so different? Did who he worked for matter? She couldn't pretend that all she saw of Cerberus was bad. She trusted Jacob- he had many of the same qualms she did about the organization but continued under their banner without compromising his morals. Her work was good fighting to protect the galaxy from the Reaper threat. Sure at the moment, it felt solely based on saving humans from the Collector threat, but they were only a tiny piece of the problem. She saw no shift in Kaidan, despite the things he had done after she passed. The same integrity, the same aggravating calm, the same compassion.

Perhaps she was unfair. What would she do to bring back the man she loved?

Huh, love was a funny feeling—a light but at the same time heavy notion.

Fuck this.

Fuck the forced distance.

If they were going to die, why waste what could be their last moments together?

"Kaidan."

Pushing the chips aside, she wriggled her way into his arms. A hand threaded through her still damp hair, his nose pressing into the top of her skull. The other arm supported the small of her back, cradling her in gently. Mary breathed in his familiar scent, no different than the man she knew two years ago. It was this easy. Some, but not all, of her worries faded into the background. She had missed physical comfort.

"Wrex was there," it was all she could offer.

Kaidan's chest rumbled, the patch pressed against her forehead an unwelcomed annoyance. A reminder. Hot and blinding, the logo was all she could focus on as it rubbed against her.

Maybe she was weak, but she could not separate the horror from the uniform.

He let her escape without a fuss, leaving him empty-handed.

[athelari]

1. old guns and old friends

Day 1/7 of the Mass Effect Trilogy Week : Characters. 1.1k words; gen; timeskip post-ME3; Shepard died at the end of the Reaper War; past Shepard/Thane; no content warnings.

“Nice place.”

Garrus glances round the apartment, taking in the details with a veteran's trained eye. Windows are on the larger side, but the blinds are better than nothing. Furniture is cheap, artlessly distributed, but functional and in good condition: dining table that doubles as a desk, sofa with fading but unscathed leather, everything aged but well-kept, more than he'd expect of a young man living alone in the Wards.

Kolyat emits a small chuckle. “Not as fancy as your place uptown,” he points out. “We probably can fit the whole unit in your living room.”

“Yeah, but that place's practically handed to me,” Garrus says quickly. “You got yours on a C-Sec rookie's bankroll. I'd say that counts for something.”

“Point taken.” Kolyat shrugs. He walks ahead of Garrus, heading towards the cramped kitchen in the corner. “Drinks?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

He follows Kolyat until his eyes catch sight of the disembowelled gun on the table. A Carnifex, with a scratched finish that's probably seen more action than the kid himself has, carefully disassembled for cleaning. Like the rest of the apartment, it's old, but someone's been taking painstaking care of it. Not a single spare part seems to have been replaced. All of it original. And all of it so very familiar, he realises. Every scratch, every scraped bit of paint, every nock—

“Oh. Sorry for the mess.” Kolyat springs forward, placing two bottles on the corner of the table, and starts clearing out the parts, but Garrus catches his hand in mid-air.

“No, don't leave it half-done like that.”

Kolyat blinks. “You don't mind if I do?”

“Of course not.” Spirits, how long has it been since he last saw that Carnifex? And to think he used to see it—almost every other day, or at least that's what it felt like. “Just make sure you take good care of it. That thing's been through hell and back.”

“I know. I will.”

There's a pause in the conversation. Garrus pulls a chair to watch Kolyat reassemble the pistol. He handles the parts with deft fingers, sliding the pieces together with quiet, almost rhythmical clicks. Then, after what feels like an eternity:

“I ran into Doctor T’Soni the other day.”

“Liara?” Gears shift inside Garrus’ head. “Right. She said she was going to be on the Citadel for… a book release, wasn’t it? About her Prothean research?”

Kolyat nods. “I was on patrol at the time. When she saw me carrying this pistol, she abruptly stopped talking for a moment. At first I thought she was just surprised to see me packing heat.”

Garrus sniffs. Of course. Of course, he wouldn’t be the only one to recognise it. “Yeah, well, don’t hold it against us. We used to see it every day. And Liara’s got an amazing memory. I wouldn’t be surprised if she can rattle off its serial number off the top of her head.”

Now is Kolyat’s turn to chuckle. “I imagine she–Shepard, I mean–must have had it for a long time. Did she?”

“Not… exactly. It was a gift, I think in 2185? War just has a funny way of breaking things.” Look what it did to us, he muses wryly. We're not very different from that gun, you and I: battered and scratched and yet so, so stubbornly refusing to fall apart and give up.

Another silence. Kolyat resumes reassembling the pistol, nimble fingers—his father's fingers, quick and precise and wilting at the tips, but bluer and less worn, less callused—going through the motions with well-practiced smoothness.

Garrus watches him work, but his mind drifts elsewhere, floating into the inexorable maëlstrom of memory. He remembers the first time he saw that Carnifex on Omega. The dread stench of burning bodies in the distance, a racking cough always waiting at the back of his throat whenever he tried to speak, the dizzying heat in the slumside clinic… that battered old pistol, handed to Shepard with a smile “in good faith”.

Then he remembers the heat on Tuchanka, drier but no less oppressive than the plague-struck slums of Omega. The whitish particles gently drifting in the breeze, spraying from the Shroud like a slow-motion fountain. And Shepard, kneeling in the ruined lab with a blank look on her face, staring at the bloodied, limp corpse in her hands. Shepard, walking with Wrex and Eve, nodding at their hopes and dreams for the future, uncharacteristically silent. Shepard, standing by the conference room window, eyes shut tight and humming under her breath.

“It's Mordin, by the way,” he blurts out. “He gave it to her.”

One last click, and the fully-assembled Carnifex sits on the tabletop, as close to peak condition as it will ever be. Kolyat's dark eyes are round, taken aback; perhaps even vaguely awed. “Mordin Solus? The salarian doctor who cured the genophage?”

“The one and only.” He draws a long breath, and it comes back out in choppy, subdued chuckles. “Slippery old bastard. Brilliant, but unusual; sometimes ruthlessly practical. But he never backed down from the difficult choices, and he owned up to his actions, good or bad.”

Kolyat smiles. “Sounds like Shepard to me.”

“Hah! That's fair.” His eyes flicker back to the scarred Carnifex, as if drawn by some unseen magnetism. “She really liked that gun, you know. Just her kind of sidearm, she used to say. Powerful, accurate over long distances, rate of fire tends slower but it doesn't matter if you aimed it correctly anyway—”

“Like a secondary sniper rifle.”

“Exactly. Spirits, she used to take it everywhere. I almost think she slept with it under her pillow.” Kolyat grins, and he resumes: “So now that it's yours, you're not gonna relegate it to boring patrols, right? That gun deserves more than that.”

“I… may also use it for the Armax Arena.”

“You play the Armax Arena? Without me?” Garrus puts a scandalised hand to his chest. “You betray me, Krios. It's right across the street from where I live!”

Kolyat laughs, shaking his head. “I thought you'd be too busy. With, you know, whatever it is Spectres do these days.”

“Listen, kid, I'm never too busy to play a few rounds with you and your family heirloom. As long as I'm on the Citadel, ring me up, and we'll show them how it's done.”

“All right, Garrus,” Kolyat grasps his bottle and raises it, and Garrus does likewise. “Here's to old friends and old guns, then.”

“May we do them proud.”

Clinks of glass, and the smooth burn of alcohol in his throat. Garrus wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Kolyat sets his bottle down with a low plink. The Carnifex gleams softly in the fluorescent light, reflecting silvery-blue into their eyes.

[ramblinganthropologist]

Writober 2020 - 16 (Sparks)

Summary: FTL fucking hurts. Maybe that’s why Bo put her fist through EDI’s port again.

---

It was a horrible day, and being in FTL jump only made it worse.

“Fuck, I don't care if it's psycho-whatever, this sucks.”

Bo's head was killing her from the pressure change... or whatever happened when the ship moved from regular go juice to the relays. She felt like it was stuck in a vice, and not much she was doing was helping it. All she could think of was retreating to her room and trying to be quiet about it.

It was at least dark there.

The elevator vibrated every part of her aching head as she rode the elevator from the CIC to the crew floor. When she got off, Thane started to say something... then he saw the look on her face and retreated back into Life Support. Smart lizard. She nodded anyway in the promise of seeing him later as she stumbled out and made a beeline for the door.

The food smell wasn't helping.

At least the door slid open as Bo stumbled in, heading in a beeline to her bed. There were reports waiting for her at the desk – she ignored them, much as she did the blinking light that told her she had messages. All she wanted was her pillow, and that's what she got as she collapsed face-first into the bed.

Fuck.

Laying down was a bad idea, though. Supposedly, the Normandy stabilized things when it was working properly. You weren't supposed to feel yourself rocketing through space at life-destroying speeds. Of course, that was a lie. With eyes closed and face in the mattress, it felt as though she was being dragged through glass at hyper-sonic speeds. Her stomach churned as she rolled over, groaning.

Great... add nausea to it.

“Shepard, your vitals indicate...”

Fuck, not that. Bo managed to crack an eye open to glare over at the spot by the door. In the cool darkness, the bright blue light was a spear directly to her brain. EDI sure knew how to decide when to make her life hell.

“Fuck off, EDI, nobody wants you here.”

The blue orb whirled as the ship processed her comment. Unfortunately, something in that Cerberus code didn't quite grasp 'fuck off' very well, because it didn't disappear. Bo swore it even got a little brighter as it spun around.

“As I was saying, your vitals indicate-”

Bo grit her teeth as she raised into a sitting position. Her lunch from the last two days threatened to eject as she crossed the room to meet the AI's projection. The light went dead as she smashed her fist down hard, sending off sparks as the console broke under the force. Then the room was blissfully dark again as she stared at it.

“My vitals indicate you need to shut the fuck up and leave me alone.”

Once she was sure EDI wasn't coming back, Bo made the arduous trek back to bed and her pillow. Her world was still spinning, but at least it was quiet. There was satisfaction in that as she returned to her previous position. Then she allowed herself to drift off in the hope a few hours of sleep would take the edge off of the headache.

---

The next time Bo had thoughts in her head, someone was knocking at the door.

“Fuck...”

Her head still hurt, but it was manageable. She managed to sit up without losing her breakfast as she glanced at the clock next to her bed. It had been a couple hours since her meeting with EDI. They were still in FTL drive.

She still felt like shit, but this was doable.

Bo managed to walk over to the door with slow, calculated steps. She stood to the side as she opened it, avoiding the flood of light that definitely would have put her back in bed. Whoever it was stepped in, mercifully closing the door behind them.

“EDI said you broke the port, so I'm here to check it out.”

Al's voice was low and soft. He had his toolbox in one hand and a bottle of pills in the other. Bo noticed the can of soda sticking out of his pants pocket, and there was a second one tucked in between his arm and side. Clearly, he had come bearing tribute.

Bo reached out her hand. “Pay up first.”

He smiled as he placed the pills and soda by her bedside table. What really caught her eye was the small bag of gummy bears he placed next to them. Then he backed away as he started towards the broken port, sparks still trailing from her destruction.

She was good at breaking shit. It was kind of her thing.

“Gelatin helps settle my stomach sometimes, maybe it'll work for you.” He was already unscrewing the broken housing on the port, and let out a low whistle once he had. “You uh... you really didn't want to talk to EDI, huh?”

“Do I ever?”

Bo was already starting to tear into the gummy bears, glad for it being a plastic bag instead of a crinkly container. Someone had been thinking with the galaxy brain in that one – easy access, and less noise. The first few went down, and they stayed there. That was as good a sign as any.

“No, but they told me you just smashed instead of insulting more than a few times. I figured you probably weren't feeling well when I read the summary.”

Al quietly worked at fixing the sparking system as Bo worked on the pill bottle and soda. Something about the carbonation helped her stomach too as she sat there, watching him work. He too was something to focus on, a bit of red and black in the darkness that switched out tools every so often.

“I hate FTL jumps.”

He nodded as he grabbed for his screwdriver to unscrew more of the housing that held EDI's port to the wall. Much to her amusement, she spotted the fabled vibrator tucked in with the rest of his tools. It was good to know he still had that – but she had never doubted it. He was a total nerd when it came to his tools.

“I do too. There's something unnatural about them.” He took a swig of his soda, pausing to massage his temple before going back to work. Bo watched with a blank expression. Where he touched was the same place she was feeling the ache. Right then it was thundering across her brain, racing down to her amp and back in two seconds flat. Even keeping her eyes open hurt.

And... he was fixing EDI's port.

She scowled as she chucked a gummy bear at his head – oww, motion hurt. “Can't that wait until your brain isn't tearing in two?”

It hit the back of his head and got lost in the hood of his jacket when it fell. Al turned to face her, smiling in that way that he always did when he was caught being back on his bullshit. Then he rubbed the back of his head – his other tell.

“I have a lot of work to do...”

Bo tossed another one at him, this one he dodged. “The fun of being commanding officer means you can load it off on somebody else. Get Chambers or someone else to do it and go to bed, you asshole.”

Al laughed at this, but they both winced at the sound. Now that his secret was out, he didn't even try to hide how he massaged his temple. No doubt his head was hurting as much as hers was, maybe even more because he kept trying to act like he was fine.

That was her CO, alright – a fucking idiot. This was why he died that one time.

“Maybe you're onto something. I'm pretty sure Tali could come fix this later for you.” He straightened up, returning his tools to the box with a slight click. “Or I could take it out... doesn't seem logical to keep EDI in here when you two don't get along. Would save on repair time for sure.”

Bo nodded – regret almost immediately as her head swam. “I vote removal.”

“I'll look into it when I'm conscious again.” His face paled as his stomach no doubt swam. “Definitely going to look into it when I'm conscious again...”

She pointed to the door as her head throbbed. “Go to bed, Al, and don't send more than two messages about it while you're going there.”

At least he didn't argue with her. Instead, Al crossed the room to take back the bottle of pills. Two disappeared down his throat as he took a few for a later dose, leaving her with the lion's share. Then he was closing the door behind him, leaving her back to her darkness.

Bo shook her head as she fell back face-first into her pillow. Honestly, she had no idea how Al was even standing still. Just sitting up had taken it out of her – and there he was trying to use tools. Talk about a masochist.

“Least I get to see Tali later...”

She stopped talking after that – it hurt. Everything hurt. She hated FTL jump space. And that was the last thought Bo had as she allowed herself to be taken by sleep for a second time. With any luck, they'd be out of it by the time she woke up and she'd be able to function again.

Bright side, no more EDI though. Maybe it wasn't all bad...

[eeveevie]

Let’s pretend we’re married Dragonborn and brynjolf

from the prince list

Brynjolf x F!Dovahkiin

885 words (under a cut) | Ao3

Fiona walked across the room, back and forth from thefireplace to her desk, repeating the steps over and over again, lost in herthoughts. She had been for the last half hour, what felt like the weight of theworld resting on her shoulders. Brynjolf was watching from his spot on her—their—bed, leaned up against theheadboard. He had found her like this when he came to fetch her from Honeyside,no doubt on Guild business.

But Fiona was distracted.

“You’ll wear through the floor soon,” Brynjolf commented. Hehad been sitting there with her, silently—patiently.She shook her head at him, pausing in her footsteps.

“I should’ve told you I’d be busy tonight,” she replied witha sigh.

He softly laughed, crossing his arms across his chest. “Busysilently pacing?”

Fiona regarded him pensively. “There’s going to be a meetingbetween the Thanes, to discuss the civil war,” she let out a long sigh. “Theyare unwilling to help to defeat Alduin until it is resolved. I am to attendwhen it occurs.”

“What does that have to do with tonight?” he asked. Brynjolf had a point.

“You never told me what we were doing,” she said. “Pleasedon’t say it’s a surprise.”

“You usually lovesurprises, lass,” he retorted. “There’s some kind of fancy noble party at anearby estate. Figured we could sneak in, cause some trouble.” He grinned. “Forold times’ sake.”

Fiona smiled, reminiscing for a moment about their firstmeeting. It felt like a lifetime ago, compared to where they were now—who they were now. She thought about theThanes before pushing it away—it could wait for another day.

“Okay,” she agreed. “What should our story be?”

Brynjolf pondered her question. Fiona felt a little strangewith the way he was staring at her, as if he was contemplating…something. Even though she felt like sheknew him well, he was a man that was still full of, well, surprises.

“Let’s pretend we’re married,” he finally suggested. Hisusual lighthearted tone was slightly off.

Fiona glanced in his direction, looking at him curiously.She didn’t call his bluff right away. “And people would believe that?”

He mocked a pout. “Why must you go straight for the ego,lass?”  

She tilted her head, deciding not to go along with the joke.If they were to attend the party, it could be done simply enough as the loversthey were. Brynjolf seemed keen to press the subject.

“We’re practically married already,” he added.

“Is this your way of proposing?” she asked, leaning on theedge of her desk. “Skirting around actually asking me in a proper way?”

Brynjolf frowned, for real this time. She wondered if shehad really struck a nerve, watching as he slowly got up from the bed. Hisexpression shifted—again he studied her carefully, taking measured steps nearwhere she stood.

“Have you noticed anything of your gone missing lately?” heasked, slyly. There was something about his tone that had her hesitant, but shedecided to shake that feeling away. Instead, she smirked.

“Did you steal something from me again?”

Brynjolf shrugged. He was finally standing before her, handslanding on either side of her waist on the desk. He glanced beyond her, and shefollowed his line of sight, turning towards the stronghold box she kept certainvaluables hidden away. Mostly sentimental ones—trinkets she had received fromvarious Skyrim residents she had helped. There were a few family rings, somegems and…an amulet.

Realization settled in, and she gasped. “Bryn—”

“Lass.” He stopped her from turning to face him. Instead, hebrought his hand into her field of vision, the familiar faded gold resting inhis palm. “Fiona.”

Her heart raced, the sound echoing in her ears. For a longmoment, her mind went blank, before her thoughts were flooded with all themoments the two had shared that led to this point—how truly fate had intervenedto bring them together time and time again. She felt calm, and her body warmed.

“You’re supposed to be wearingit,” she finally responded.

Brynjolf let out a short breath, almost a laugh. His fingerstightened around the amulet Maramal had given to her nearly a year ago, backwhen she had first arrived in Riften. Slowly, she turned around in his arms,finding his expression a mix of apprehension and wonder.

“I didn’t think I’d get this far,” he spoke in a soft voice.His gaze darted across her face before focusing on her eyes. “Should’ve planned—”

“I like surprises, remember?” Fiona encouraged.

Brynjolf’s lips twitched up in amusement, and continued tosmirk as he carefully placed the necklace around his head, settling it acrosshis chest. Fittingly, the ring he had alsostolen from her rested next to the amulet. She resisted the urge to tease himwith some type of refusal. Instead, she kissed him, still grinning as shepulled away.

“You want to marry me?” she clarified. She didn’t need tosay more for him to already know what her answer would be. The word sparked afluttering in her gut, and she struggled to hide the joy in her smile. Brynjolfcould only kiss her again.

“Aye lass,” he agreed. “That I do.”

[brutcllysoft]

andy vs addie fight ft. @becamedcath

setting: restaurant in nashville, august 2015. 

ANDY

AUGUST, 2015.    Andy hadn’t anticipated their night taking this turn. Truthfully, when Rowan brought up her parents wanting to meet him, he was hesitant -- He’d never been with someone long enough to met the parents, and even if their relationship wasn’t exactly traditional, he was still nervous about it. He wasn’t sure what to expect -- Addie and Henry Fisher were just names and not people to him. Rowan hadn’t spoken to him about them before but never in much detail. Complicated families are nothing new to him -- He hasn’t even tried to tell Rowan anything about his, knowing that the Thane family will send her running for the hills. When he walked into Mary Ann’s diner, hand in hand with Rowan -- He had expected to meet some meek, mild couple from Montana. Things started out nice enough, small talk and the expected shock and judgmental look that comes when he tells them about his career path and the kind of music he makes. It’s clear they’re not that interested in what Rowan’s doing, either -- Something that bothers him more than he cares to admit. He plays nice through drinks and appetizers, mostly for Rowan’s sake, though he doesn’t miss the backhanded comments her mother makes. It makes his blood boil, finding it baffling that someone could look at Rowan, and not see what he sees; not see what Reina sees; not see what the world sees. He’s not sure when it happens, but at some point in the dinner her mother makes a comment -- And Andy snaps. While he had wanted to make a good impression in the beginning, all of his efforts were thrown out the window within seconds, voice raised as he laid into Rowan’s mother.

It makes him feel like he’s in the Twilight Zone, not understanding how the people who raised her couldn’t see her talent, heart, or kindness if it bit them in the ass. He had accepted his own fate with his family, knowing from the get-go that there was no shot in hell for the Thane’s to be anything close to a ‘traditional’ family. But for Rowan? This didn’t add up. He makes a scene without question, making it very clear how he feels about the woman in question, while simultaneously destroying any chance he had of having a quiet night with her and her family. There was an anticipation for guilt to come after, but it never finds him -- He’s happy to defend Rowan to anyone, even after knowing her for only a few short months that she’s something to behold. Tension comes after he’s done, apparently having shocked Addie Fisher into silence. It’s overwhelming, and once it’s over, the realization of what he’s done dawns on him. There’s no regret for it, but a bit of confusion -- Making it clear to Andy that his crush on Rowan wasn’t as small as he tried to pass it off to be.    He excuses himself, not bothering to notice all of the other diner goers who are staring at them, stunned at his outburst -- It’ll probably end up on twitter, TMZ, or some bullshit. All that he wants right now is to get some fresh air, and smoke a cigarette to calm his nerves. Once he has a lit cigarette between his lips, it’s not much of a help, but once he turns to find Rowan exiting the diner -- There’s a certain calm that finds him. “I’m not plannin’ on going in thee for an Act II, in case you're curious.” He greets her, taking another drag of his cigarette.

ROWAN

This dinner had been doomed from the very start. In fact, Rowan had tried to get them out of it more than once but Addie is like a dog with a bone when it comes to Andrew Thane. Even over the phone, it had been clear that Addie didn’t approve and really, Rowan isn’t surprised. Not because of anything that actually has anything to do with Andy but rather just because of who her mother is as a person and how their relationship has progressed over the years. Rowan loves her mother and has been desperately seeking even the smallest amount of approval for years but she seems to fall just short every time. Part of her thinks she could cure cancer and her mother would ask why she hadn’t found a cure for alzehemiers while she was at it. It’s just something she has learned to live with — or at least she tells herself that until she finds herself face to face with Addison and back at square one, grasping at straws for anything.

Now that the night is in progress, doomed doesn’t feel like it adequately covers it. Addie is snippy from the moment she arrives, nitpicking her way through a list of topics — the traffic, the wait time, the food and her favourite, her daughter (and unfortunately for him, Andy’s association with Rowan has also landed him right in Addison’s line of fire). Rowan is used to this. She has learned to roll with the punches and to sift her way through backhanded compliments and thinly veiled insults to find something that doesn’t make her feel like a complete failure. And yeah, maybe when she gets home she’ll shed a few tears but that isn’t anyone’s business but hers, is it? Except the night seems to take a hard left when Andy erupts beside her. Rowan watches the whole thing in a stunned silence, eyes wide and lips pressed together. She’s barely aware of him pushing his way outside until he’s gone and her mother is breaking the silence, a dramatic huff leaving her as she turns on the crocodile tears and begins talking about how rude he is.

Rowan excuses herself only a few seconds later, following Andy outside. It’s been a few weeks since their almost kiss, leaving Rowan feeling like they’re in limbo and part of her isn’t even sure if he’ll even want to see her after that or if he’d rather be alone — or if he’ll even still be there. For all she knows he’d hopped in their car and gotten the hell out of dodge. She wouldn’t blame him, it certainly looks appealing to her. But there he is— shoulders tense, cigarette between his teeth, frustration practically dripping from him. “I wasn’t going to ask you to,” she sighs quietly at his comment, hands raising in faux surrender. “I just wanted to see if you were okay. I told you she could be intense.” Which is a very delicate way of saying it but at the end of the day she’s still her mom, regardless of how fucked up their relationship has become.

ANDY

Andy genuinely wanted to make a good impression on Rowan’s parents. This was foreign territory to him, but for her -- He was willing to try. But now that the night has completely gone to shit, he’s given up on trying to salvage what’s left. It’s clear that Addie and Henry are set in their ways (Addie more so than her husband), happy to live on some planet where Rowan isn’t the center of their universe. It’s bizarre to him that those two people could create someone with such a big heart, but he tries not to dawn on it -- The last thing he needs is to get worked up again and come rushing in with And another thing!. Rowan comes out soon after he does, and truthfully -- He’s not sure what kind of reaction is going to come from her. They may be in this will they, won’t they stage together, and somehow he’s sure that his outburst may end up putting them in the latter. Even if he’d come to her defense, he’d still yelled at her mother in a public place during their first encounter. Not exactly a good first impression.

There’s a wave of calm that comes from the sight of her, even if he’s sure he’s about to get a lecture. “I’m fine,” he answers easily, though his tone makes his frustration far too clear. Pausing, Andy takes another drag of his cigarette before speaking again. “Intense is one way of putting it.” He continues, unable to hide the bitterness that comes with the words. Being put down by a parent was nothing new to him, but he still couldn’t wrap it around his head that Rowan Fisher’s parents were happy to push her buttons any chance they had. Taking another inhale, he spares a glance back in the diner to her mother and father in a hushed conversation, Addie clearly still upset. It makes him want to go back in there and remind her she has no reason to cry, but instead -- He breathes deeply, before tilting his head back to avoid blowing smoke in Rowan’s face. “I’m not goin’ to apologize to her.” He states point blank, knowing that even if Rowan ended up giving him a long lecture about respecting elders or some shit -- Andy stood by everything he said. “I meant all of it, ya know.”

ROWAN

Andy says he’s fine, but everything about him screams the opposite. It’s easy to see that he’s still frustrated and that her mother had gotten under his skin --- she’s not surprised, really. Addie has that effect on people. Her gaze follows his inside, watching as her mother turns on the dramatics and her father encourages the whole thing which is just business as usual. She loves her parents but Christ, being around them can be so exhausting sometimes. If it isn’t Addie’s nitpicking and constant scrutiny then it’s just Henry’s indifference and really she isn’t entirely sure which is worse. Despite herself, a laugh does manage to leave her when Andy says he’s not apologizing, knowing that it wouldn’t change anything. “She wouldn’t accept it anyway. Not really, anyway. You know how they say it’s better to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission? There’s not really any point in doin’ either one of those with my mother.” Rowan has long since learned that the hard way. “She loves her grudges.”

She softens when Andy tells her he meant what he said, feeling admiration and affection bloom in her chest. That familiar desire to be close to him kicking in again and she wraps her arms around her middle to keep her hands from reaching out to him, giving him a soft smile and nod. “Thank you.” A stroke of embarrassment creeps up her spine at the fact that he’d had to come to her defense at all, knowing she surely looked like a sad little girl being berated by her mother but she tries not to dwell on it. “You didn’t have to do that, though. We don’t really…” she trails off for a minute, trying to find the right words to string together but ultimately coming up short. “We usually just let her say whatever she needs to get off her chest. S’usually just easier that way.” As fond of her father he has always been passive when it comes to her mother -- spineless even, and Rowan can’t judge them. After all, she’s the same way. “But, hey, at least my sister wasn’t here. Small miracles, right?” She laughs a little, though it’s not full of much humour but she is grateful for the sudden reminder that Aspen isn’t around, sure her sister would have followed them out for round two on the street. “I won’t hold it against you if you make a break for it.”

ANDY

This is still so strange to him, especially how nonchalant Rowan is being. Admittedly, Andy had created a narrative for her parents and what he thought would happen, and this — It still feels like it’s coming out of left field. He understands it, having a complicated relationship with his parents as well — Even if it’s in a vastly different way. It still brought an anger out in him, one that made him want to grab Addison Fisher by the shoulders and scream how do you not understand this? At least he wasn’t out here left to stew. A bitter laugh comes with Rowan’s “explanation” of her mother, eyes rolling at the thought of what her mother’s list of grudges looks like. He’s sure tonight has made the top five, at least. “Somehow, I’m not shocked.” He begins, glancing back inside of the diner before his eyes return to her. “I got a feeling this’ll be the hot topic for her book club for a while.” Andy jokes, wanting to lighten the mood a little now that he’s not moments away from exploding.

His eyes watch as she wraps her arms around her middle, wishing he could pull her close and tuck her head under his chin. Even if he has a crush on her, they’re not those kind of people — Their affection is strictly for cameras, not each other. You didn’t have to do that. He waved away the words with his cigarette hand, giving her a serious look. “I know I didn’t have to. I wanted to.” Andy points out, brow arching as she explains their usual routine. “My dads a lot like that, too.” The words slip out too easily, leaving him feeling like he’s revealed too much — Even with something as simple and vague as that. The last thing he wants is to expose Rowan to anything having to do with the Thane family, even if his father is always happy to make a comment about how stupid and ungrateful his son is to whatever reporter knocks on his door. At the mention of her sister, he lets out a small laugh, taking a quick puff of his cigarette. “I bet I could take ‘er.” He smirks, eyes leaving her as he drops his cigarette butt on the ground and stomps it out with the heel of his boot. Brows furrow as she mentions him making a break for it, and truthfully — If it were anyone else, he would. “And leave you here to deal with that? No way. If I call the car, you’re comin’ with me.”

ROWAN

The mention of this being the topic of his mother’s book club has her letting out another quiet laugh, shrugging her shoulders and rolling her eyes. “More than likely.” Rowan knows that this is something that Addie will hold onto for a long time, making sure to bring it up any time she and Andy are in the same vicinity. But with that thought comes the reminder that they’re in a contract and Andy probably won’t have to be around her parents very often at all over the next few years. In fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if she woke up tomorrow morning to a message from Reina saying that Chris and Andy wanted to add that to the contract --- no more time with her parents. “It’ll give her and her friends somethin’ to talk about, at least. There’s not much excitement back home --- pretty sure they spend most of book club talkin’ about how the neighbors grass is more than six inches long so… at least this’ll be a change of pace,” she’s rambling now, trying to avoid a potentially awkward silence between them.

Rowan hates the effect Andy’s words have on her. She hates that him telling her he had wanted to defend her has her wanting to reach for him even more, has her heart feeling like it’s slamming against her ribcage. She’s no stranger to crushes --- Christ, sometimes Rowan thinks she falls in love with anyone who gives her the smallest bit of attention (she tries not to think about what that means in regards to her views on herself), but somehow with Andy it feels different. Which brings on a whole new level of complicated because not only does she feel like she’s falling harder than she usually does this quickly, but they’ve got this added layer to them thanks to their arrangement that makes it nearly impossible to figure out where they actually stand. There is no denying that the last few months have had a shift between them --- flirty comments made behind closed doors, hands lingering on the other a few moments after the cameras are gone, late night phone calls, not to mention the kiss they almost shared on the 4th. It’s confusing to say the very least and while she’d like to think that he’s as into her as she is him, the truth is she’s just never really sure. Especially since their almost kiss hasn’t been brought up that night. It’s something she’s thought about asking him about --- wanting to just lay all the cards on the table and be on the same page but ultimately that fear of rejection keeps her from doing so.

She wants to thank him again but for now refrains, biting her tongue as he carries on. A knowing nod comes when he mentions his dad. It isn’t something that Andy’s ever talked about, but Rowan has certainly seen the comments he’s made on gossip sites before. At least her mother keeps her criticism private. “Parents,” she huffs a little, leaning against the wall of the diner and looking up at Andy. “Who’d keep our egos in check if not for them?” It’s said somewhere between teasing a bitter, leaning more toward the latter but she isn’t looking to go down that particular road right now, knowing it’ll likely only cause him to clam up and push her away. She nods when he mentions being able to take her sister, corners of her lips turning up just a little. “I’m sure. You handled Addison fine, the mini would’ve been a breeze.” Though, admittedly, Aspen can sometimes be worse --- where Addie usually has the sense to keep things relatively quiet and private, Aspen would’ve had no qualm screaming right back in Andy’s face. His next words bring a slight pink tinge to her cheeks, the idea of leaving having never been more appealing than now. Green eyes turn to look inside the restaurant again, lingering there momentarily. “To be honest, she’s probably gonna spend the rest of the night given’ us the silent treatment, if she sticks around. Stormin’ out’s usually her gig, so she’s probably counting down the seconds until we go sit back down and she can do it. So, s’not like we’d be missing anything.”June 8, 2020

ANDY

“I can’t imagine there’s a whole lotta interesting shit happening in -- Wyoming? Montana. It’s Montana, isn’t it?” He replies, stumbling over what state she’s actually from. Eyes roll at the thought of Addison Fisher and her book club discussing the heathen her daughter is dating, but at least it’s something he’ll never have to deal with. It’s clear that Rowan’s parents don’t have any interest in the world he and their daughter live in, uninterested in making any sort of effort to be a piece of it. “At least they’ll lay off poor Bill’s grass for a while.” He jokes, laughing lightly at his own words, knowing this isn’t exactly an ideal conversation to be having. When it comes to his own parents -- He’s as detached as they come, feeling as though they’re just a story to be told rather than actual people only a couple of states away. If Andy were in Rowan’s shoes, he wouldn’t have bothered introducing her to his family, knowing it’d be a wash from the beginning. Admittedly, though -- There’s a voice in the back of his head reminding him that his Ma would love her. There’s a weird twinge in his chest that comes with the passing thought, gone just as quickly as it came. It’s confusing to him -- As much as he never wants to return to his hometown or see his parents, he finds himself thinking of what it would be like to have her see that part of him. The feeling only adds to the tension of the evening, combined with the obvious -- Their dinner with her parents, as well as their close encounter on the 4th of July, he’s become a mess.

Connection is something he doesn’t come by easily -- Andy assumes most people either want something from him or to have a story to tell the next day, but Rowan… It’s different. Part of him feels like he’s just letting himself get in too deep, letting himself make this up in his head and run with it, rather than remind himself that the only reason they even met face to face was because of a business deal. But then he starts wonder where she stands, reminds himself that she had been the one to point out he didn’t know when to make a move when they’d gone shopping weeks prior; that she’d stepped forward and gotten just as close before they were interrupted. Eyes remain on Rowan as she leans against the wall, huffing out the word as if she was about to add amirite? at the end. “You gotta get humbled every now and again,” he jokes along with her, moving to lean his shoulder against the wall, turning to face her. “Sometimes it’s charity work, sometimes it’s gettin’ berated at dinner.” Brow raises at the mention of her sister being a mini version of her mother, and it’s enough to make Andy never want to meet her. If tonight was any preview into what the Fisher family was like, he’d pass. He got the only good one, anyway.

Rowan’s prediction of how her mother will act once they walk back in isn’t all that surprising to him. He figured it’d be a lecture or silence, punishing him, and Rowan by association. The idea of dealing with the theatrics and Addie storming out are less than appealing, enough for him to make a face at the thought. There’s a pause, eyes lingering on Rowan, before Andy speaks again. “Why don’t we get out of here, then?” He suggests, “Might as well give our audience a finale.” He teases, glancing back at the couple inside of the diner. “I don’t think they’ll miss us, either.”

ROWAN

“Montana. We can’t all be from somewhere as exciting as New Orleans,” she confirms with a small nod of her head, a quiet laugh slipping between her lips. Honestly, the most exciting thing to happen in her town before she’d been signed was when they added a stoplight in town back in 2005. She wonders what growing up in New Orleans would’ve been like, what his parents are like. Rowan knows that the chances of her meeting them are slim to none and she can’t blame him for that --- between the disaster that tonight had turned into and the fact that their relationship, for lack of a better term, runs on borrowed time, why would she? The only reason she had introduced him to her parents was because her mother had pushed so hard for it, anyway. Still, she can’t help but want to know him better -- to get to know all of him, including the parts of his life that he keeps to himself. Maybe especially those parts. She can’t deny that there’s a selfish part of her that would like getting to know parts of him that no one else has before, getting to have a version of him that only she knows. Regardless, it isn’t something she’s going to go pushing for --- not right now, anyway. Not when they’re still stuck in this weird limbo where she can barely tell if he actually likes her or if she’s just looking at it all with unjustified hopefulness.

Her gaze tears away from the diner window when he mentions getting out of there, hesitating for a few seconds. It’s appealing in the best ways but she can’t deny that she’s a little afraid of the verbal ass kicking she’ll get from her parents later. Addie will surely leave her a shrill voicemail later, one that will be arguably deserved for skipping out on them, and then ignore her calls until she feels that her daughter has been sufficiently punished. Part of her wonders if it’s worth the stress that will come from it, or if she would be better off just sucking it up and going back and enduring another hour with the two of them. It’s what she would do any other time but something about Andy always has her acting out of the norm, stepping outside of her comfort zone. Her actions are always so carefully planned --- precise lines that she needs to stay within, a script she needs to follow and that isn’t something she has ever ventured out of before. At least, not until last month when she let Andy give her a last minute wardrobe adjustment and now this. It leaves her feeling just a little out of control, something that would normally send her into a tailspin but somehow it just comes with a rush of adrenaline --- the kind that makes her feel like she’s flying, not falling. Like she’s not about to tank her entire career over one misstep or she’s not about to get her heart smashed into a million pieces. Like maybe she could be safe around him. It’s something she tries not to let herself linger on, but when her stomach is twisting and untwisting itself into knots over and over again when they’re together, it’s impossible not to. “Okay.” The word rolls off her tongue with surprising ease, nodding.

It doesn’t take long for the car to roll up in front of them after Andy calls. If she’s being honest, a part of her had expected to back out --- like the second she saw it pull up she’d snap out of whatever spell she’s under and revert herself back to who she usually is and rush back inside to try and apologize and worm her way back into her mother’s good graces. But she doesn’t -- in fact, she doesn’t even really feel guilty about leaving. She barely manages to spare one last glance into the window to see the look on Addison’s face when it becomes clear that they’re leaving --- it’s obvious she’s pissed and part of Rowan can’t help but feel a little bit of vindictive justification over it. Her shoulders slump when the door closes behind them and she feels the vehicle pull away from the curb, relaxing as they leave that particular mess behind. A hand moves to tuck blonde hair behind her ear, turning to look at Andy with slightly flushed cheeks. “I know you said you wanted to but you didn’t have to do that tonight.” She repeats her words from earlier, knowing that it isn’t really needed but she just wants to make sure he knows that it had been appreciated. “No one’s ever really done that before and it ---” she stumbles over her words for a minute, trying to find the right ones to say. “It just means a lot, so thank you. Again.”June 11, 2020

ANDY

The word New Orleans makes his heart jump, even though it’s not a secret that he’s from the city -- Andy tries to keep his family and childhood away from the spotlight, something that remains mysterious and unconfirmed. Mostly, he wants to keep his father out of his life as best he can, never wanting to return to that part of his life. And in Rowan’s case, he never wants her to meet his parents, never wants her to come face to face with his father. Addie can certainly put on a show, but her antics are childsplay compared to what terror his father would be happy to send their way. There’s no way she hasn’t seen the statements his father has made in numerous tabloids, the cruel and venomous story he tries to spin with each and every comment -- It’s never been something he’s openly talked about, only having told Chris about it once or twice. He knows if she knew more than what the tabloids say, if she could see how much worse the real story is, it’d send her running for the hills. Reina, and her legal team would be knocking down his door to get her out of their contract. “It’s not as glamorous as you’d think,” he settles with, shrugging a shoulder. “Better than fuckin’ Montana, I guess.” Andy teases, chuckling lightly at his own words.

It hurts to think of what will come after this dinner. He may never have to see her parents again, but Rowan isn’t cut off from them. He can already imagine that her mother will hold this over her head for as long as she can, happy to remind her daughter of the heathen she brought to dinner and the fight that broke out. Andy knows far too well how that can go, sure his father would be happy to remind him of any shitty thing he’s done if given the chance. Admittedly, he’s a bit shocked that Rowan agreed with him without him pushing the idea. Okay. A brow arches, head nodding. “Okay.” He repeats the word, something of a smile at his lips. He calls his driver, and after a brief conversation about their plans changing -- He’s at the door, holding it open for her to climb in before he follows after. He doesn’t miss the way she slumps the moment the car door is closed, wishing he could pull her close and reassure her that everything was okay. Andy shifts to better face her when she begins to speak, reminding him that he didn’t have to come to her defense. No one’s ever really done that before. There’s a twinge in his chest at her words, anger bubbling all over again over the conversation with her mother. He waves a hand, hoping that his casual demeanor will show her that he has no remorse over what he said, felt no obligation to say it. “Trust me -- S’no problem, baby.” Baby. He hadn’t meant to call her that, but it’s too late to take it back now -- Part of him hopes she doesn’t catch the nickname, hoping he hadn’t crossed a line with her. They may have a certain… something between them, but Andy’s still not convinced that it’s not just all in his head

ROWAN

Something about Andy always seems to make even the most mundane things seem new and exciting. His hand against the small of her back will leave a trail electricity running up her spine, a grin from across the room will have her stomach erupting in butterflies and now the way he calls her baby has her heart slamming against her rib cage. Andy isn’t the first boy to call her baby— in fact, she feels like almost everyone she has dated in the past has done it at least once or twice — but the way it drips off of his lips, sweet and smooth, it’s never sounded so nice; Never made a warmth spread through her like this. Part of her knows that it’s something stupid to get hungup on — just as he isn’t the first boy to say it to her, she’s sure she isn’t the first girl he has said it to and it wouldn’t be illogical to think it’s just a slip of the tongue after hours of pretending to be together rather than something actually meant for her. But within a split second, she can’t help herself.

Rowan doesn’t even realize she’s moving until she feels the curve of his jaw under her palms. Her instincts have kicked in now, acting on something she feels like she’s wanted forever when it’s really only been a few months, moving to pull his head down so she can press her lips against his. Of course, they’ve kissed before — dozens of times when they know there’s a camera around and a voice in their ear tells them it’s a good opportunity. But this is different. All of that had just been for show, something to fulfill their contract and get their picture in a magazine or their names gossiped about around a table on daytime television. They hadn’t been real — but this is. At least, it’s real for Rowan and she tries to make that clear through actions, one hand slipping into his hair as she kisses him until her lungs feel like they’re screaming. It’s only when they break apart that it occurs to her she could have just crossed a very dangerous line and that this could spell disaster for her, but she tries not to dwell on it yet. “You still never learned how to make a move,” she breaths the words out quietly, watching with wide eyes to see if that had been an okay thing to do or if she’s ruined everything.

ANDY

Andy’s called plenty of girls pet names -- Baby, honey, sweetie, whatever would get them to lean in closer and eventually go home with him at the end of the night. It’s never meant anything to him, but with Rowan, he finds himself more aware of the things he says and does. First because of the contract, and eventually from the crush he formed -- She’s not some girl at the other end of the bar, who stayed after a show just to try and fuck a band member. But this is different, everything with Rowan is different. She’s someone he wants to come home to, wants to fall asleep talking on the phone with her -- He wouldn’t go as far as to say he’s in love with her, but the terrifying and exciting part of it, is that he could. It scares him to think that he could see something past contracts and staged paparazzi photos, that he could see them five years from now. The feeling creates knots in his stomach, a shiver down his spine -- Part of him wanting to pull her in and the other wanting to dive roll out of the car.

What happens next throws him for a loop, having expected for them to have another almost moment -- Something like the boutique dressing room, where they’re a little too close for a little too long, hands lingering and words meaning more than they did before. They’re in a strange limbo, one he didn’t see coming back in March. Rowan Fisher was the last person he ever imagined himself yearning for, yet here they were -- He’d spent the entire night listing all of the things he’d come to love about her to her mother, practically creating a neon sign that says I’m into you. And yet, he hadn’t expected her to kiss him. There’s an initial shock that follows, having him frozen in place for a second before he’s leaning into it. This isn’t new -- They’ve become masters of PDA, never sparing a moment to be disgustingly in love for the cameras. He knows this isn’t anything like that, this is… genuine. There’s no cameras following them, no quotes or obligations to meet -- Just Andy and Rowan. His hands slip around her waist with ease, inching them closer. He’s not sure what’s about to happen, or if she somehow feels obligated -- But he wants to enjoy this, to let himself be present in this, rather than drown in whatever scenarios and narratives he’s created in his head. Andy wants nothing more than for this to be real, to let himself believe that Rowan isn’t just caught up in the moment and actually wants someone like him.

As she pulls away he finds himself leaning forward, hating that this was already over. You still never learned how to make a move. He words pull a laugh from him, a callback to the last time they found themselves in this position -- Or, almost, before getting interrupted. It’s all the encouragement he needs, the words pushing away the doubts that constantly plague him. “I’m startin’ to take the hint.” His tone is hushed, eyes never leaving hers. It’s hard not to let his emotions take over, to breathe her in and never want to let go. Andy can’t recall the last time there was anything real behind a make out, a hook up, anything in between -- It’s always nameless strangers and bar bathrooms. He doesn’t want this feeling to ever leave him. A hand moves to cup her cheek, the other remaining around her waist to keep her close. “Now might be a good time.” There’s a light laugh with his words, his thumb moving along her bottom lip. It’s strange to deal with the fact that he’s finding himself wanting nothing less than actual romance with her -- Not the bottled version that they display in magazines, but this, tucked away from the rest of the world. Just the two of them. Taking advantage of what little space is left between them, he leans forward to kiss her again, trying to commit this moment to memory

ROWAN

Honestly, it doesn’t even occur to her that this could be anything but genuine. She doesn’t contemplate any ulterior motives or feelings of obligation, though those will surely come after all of this is said and done --- because all she can focus on is the fact that it feels like lightning is running through her body when he pulls her closer, and when he leans in to kiss her again she sees fireworks so bright that she can’t even fathom the idea that he doesn’t see them, too. “Now’s a great time,” the words come out with a laugh, muffled slightly against Andy’s lips. Though it isn’t a secret that Rowan so often falls fast and hard, she can’t help the thought that Andy is different from popping into her head. She knows that it’s a cliche and one likely to end in her heartbreak (she can hear a cynical voice in her head, one that sounds like Reina, asking aren’t they always different) but she can’t help herself. There’s something so magnetic about him, pulling her closer even if she wants to pull away; something so special so can’t even string together words to describe it.

The next few minutes are a blur of roaming hands and rushed kisses, each seemingly deeper than the last, the hesitance and uncertainty seeming to disappear as the seconds tick by. There are a lot of things about this scenario Rowan still isn’t sure about — she isn’t sure this publicity stunt is going to have the long term effect they want, isn’t sure she’ll be able to keep it up forever, isn’t sure if it’s even a stunt at all anymore — but what she is sure of is this moment, and that she wants to be with him — at least for tonight. This isn’t something Rowan wants to brush under the rug; she doesn’t want it to be a one off and to end up as just another name on his list of conquests but it’s hard to think about those things in the moment, instead swept up on how easy it is to just melt into him.

There’s a buzz in her chest that comes with this, a high she wants to keep chasing and reveling in for as long as he’s willing to let her. Reluctantly, she pulls away again — though stays close enough that her lips still brush against his when she talks, something that doesn’t take much considering she’s practically ended up in his lap somehow. They’re stalled at a red light, not far from her apartment and Rowan is reminded of the fact that this could be coming to a close, a sense of disappointment bubbling in her stomach. Her hands move to push his hair back, breathing deep to catch her breath. “You gonna walk me up to my door when we get there?” She asks, coy grin pulling up on her lips, the true question behind her words coming out loud and clear, “or do I have to drop hints for another few months to get to that point?”

ANDY

The best and worst thing about Rowan Fisher is the way she was able to pull Andy in with quite literally anything she did. She entered a room, and his eyes were on her; She kissed him, and he’d forgotten about the rest of the night entirely. Thoughts of her parents, their dinner, the screaming match that ensued — All gone, leaving him only able to focus on the feeling of his arm around her, the other threatening to tangle in her hair. With a light laugh against her lips, he speaks, but carefully remains close enough that his lips brush against hers as he does. “I think that’s a good idea.” He settles with, part of him beginning to wonder if he’s dreaming; That once the town car comes to a halt at the end of her driveway, he’s going to wake up alone in his bed and remind himself there’s no way Rowan would hold any interest in a guy like him. There’s no denying he wants her in every capacity — Whether it’s a make out in the back of the car, or sitting in a diner booth with an arm around her. Though, if tonight is any indicator, he’d prefer the former. There’s a voice in the back of his mind that reminds him that come morning, she’ll be over this now that she’s gotten it out of her system, or Rowan will be left with nothing short of regret and shame. If anyone could see this, hear his thoughts — They’d smack him upside the head and tell him he’s being an idiot. If she didn’t want to kiss him, especially like this, she wouldn’t. They knew the boundaries of their contract, and while it included PDA — It all paled in comparison to this.

There’s a wave of different emotions running through him, but Andy chooses to follow the one telling him not to pull away from her. Their kisses are rushed and needy, from two people who clearly have wanted this for longer than they care to admit. Her hand in his hair as him practically in a trance, eyes half open and lips parted as she speaks. “What kinda guy would I be if I didn’t?” He replies, unable to resist the urge to pull her in for another kiss as soon as the words pass his lips. About a month and a half ago, once he’d found himself developing feelings for her (even if he wouldn’t admit it), walking Rowan to her door had become part of their nightly routine — Just to end with his phone ringing by the time he’s back in the car, Rowan’s name popping up on the screen, eager to begin their nightly ritual. “Believe me, I hear ya loud and clear, baby.”

[who-has-done-the-thing]

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9 The Disappearance of Don Juan

"Hey, don't sleep." Poked by Ariga, Ayumi opened her eyes. "Ahh, sorry, it was an accident…" While rubbing her eyes, Ayumi asked "Where are we going?" and peered outside the car. They were on a mountain road, but it didn't seem like they were that deep in the mountains. "Near Okutama," Ariga answered. "Oh, I went hiking there once long ago." ——The sun was shining and the weather was pleasant. The car from Masuguchi Yoshiko had come at exactly 10 o clock sharp. It was a Benz, with a luxuriously dignified air. Ayumi's mother Kiyomi had stared after it, wide-eyed. Accompanied by Ariga and Don Juan, Ayumi disembarked. Despite the vehicle's large size, the movement was smooth and the ride comfortable. That was the situation in which she'd accidentally fallen asleep. "You were up all night, weren't you?" Ariga said. "I dunno." Ayumi yawned and said "But I had an intruder slip into my bed…" "Excuse me?" Ariga's face changed color. "W, who?" "Don Juan. ——Seriously, I kept pushing him away and pushing him away but he kept on coming back. I've given up." "Uhh, alrighty then," Ariga laughed. "He sure knows a pretty girl when he sees one." "You've got that right," Ayumi joked. "——Will it be much longer?" "We will arrive in not too long," the driver said. Thank you…" When Ayumi glanced at the driver, she felt like she'd seen him somewhere before. But she couldn't remember where. He was young, thirty at the most. He seemed like quite an intellectual fellow. He wore a suit and tie which was perfectly appropriate for driving this high-class Benz, and white gloves. Maybe she'd seen him at the wedding, she thought, but something still felt amiss…. They turned onto a narrow gravel road in the woods. "We are almost there," the driver said. Before Ayumi could even finish saying "This is so rustic," the adorable white mountain cottage came into view. "——It's gorgeous!" Ayumi muttered without thinking. The Benz came to a stop in front of the entrance, and the driver quickly got out and opened the back door. When Ayumi and Ariga got out, Don Juan also jumped out excitedly, probably because he's familiar with the place, and ran off towards the side of the house. "Ah, wait! Don Juan!" Ayumi called, but when the door opened and Yoshiko said "Thank you for coming all this way" from the doorway, she stopped walking after him and responded "Thank you for inviting me…" while bowing slightly. "This is my friend. Er— His name is Ariga-kun. We go to school together." Ayumi stared at Yoshiko's face shamelessly, but saw nothing troubling in her expression. "Welcome. Please, come in," she smiled widely at them. "E, excuse me." Ariga was slightly nervous. Ayumi was still worried about Don Juan running off. "Is something the matter?" Yoshiko asked. "Oh— Uh, nothing. Just thinking about how nice and cozy this place is." "That's all, huh? I think it's too quiet, like a graveyard." For a woman who just lost her husband right after marrying him, Ayumi felt like "graveyard" was strong language. "Further in please——" Yoshiko instructed. When everyone was comfortable on the sofas in the lavish living room, Yoshiko said "I apologize for calling you out here on such short notice." ——Of course, Yoshiko wasn't alone in the house. There were a couple plump old ladies wandering about, and another younger—— Maybe even as young as Ayumi. The young woman served Yoshiko black tea along with Ayumi and Ariga. "Things have been crazy," Ayumi said. "Indeed. I never want to go to another country ever again." "It was so sudden," Ayumi agreed. "So… Um… What was it you wanted to tell me?" "It's about Tamura-san." After saying that, Yoshiko blushed. "——It's strange. Since we were married, I was content to call him "husband" but I just called him Tamura-san." "We're all worried about him," Ayumi said. "So what is it? Do you think that Tamura-san is still alive?" Ayumi was very interested in how Yoshiko answered. "He is alive," Yoshiko said without pause. "Wait… you're sure?" Ayumi asked to confirm. "If you want me to show you proof, I have none. But I know that sort of thing would never happen to him." "So in other words——" "I don't think he would ever go somewhere dangerous. ——I know I didn't date him for very long, but I at least understand that much." "I agree," Ayumi said. "Thank you. I'm so glad I can talk to you about this." "It's true that Tamura-san can lose himself in the things he likes, but besides that, he was totally cautious—— or rather that he was a timid person." "Absolutely. That was the quality in him, that social awkwardness, that attracted me to him…" Tamura seriously was free from this transient world. "Then what happened to him?" Ayumi said. "I haven't a clue," Yoshiko shook her head. "Do you have any thoughts on the matter?" "Well…" Careful not to reveal any information to this potentially false Yoshiko, Ayumi acted vaguely puzzled. "To tell the truth, there was a reason I asked you here today," Yoshiko said, standing up and moving to open a small drawer in a display shelf. Ayumi and Ariga silently met gazes. ——She was still worried about Don Juan. Where did he run off to? And at this crucial moment… "Please look at this," Yoshiko said, presending a single postcard. "Wait, this writing——" "It's his, correct?" "Yeah, I think so." The addressee's name was written "Tamura Yoshiko-sama." There was no sender's name. Further, the note section was entirely blank. The name was the only thing written. "What do you think it might mean?" Yoshiko asked. "I don't know, but… Is the postmark——" "It's hard to see, but I managed to figure it out. It was sent from Hamburg." "So, the place where Tamura-san went missing." "The date was the only part I couldn't read." "When did it get here?" "It wasn't here. It was delivered to the apartment where we stayed after I came back from the honeymoon. Yesterday, I went there to collect some things I'd left behind, and this was left in the mailbox." "So we have no idea when it was delivered." "Indeed. But—— for him to send a postcard from Hamburg, on the day he vanished—— and to his own wife, no less, it's strange, don't you think?" To this point, Yoshiko had been acting exceedingly natural. If she was an imposter, she would be taking great measures to appear, and even more to behave identically to Yoshiko. At least to Ayumi's eyes, she didn't see any sign of such a concerted effort at all. Yoshiko wore an exceedingly simple dress, and had the air of a genuinely high-bred woman. The icy feeling she'd gotten at the wedding reception was hardly noticable. Perhaps that had been due to her thick makeup and tense atmosphere. "In other words, you're saying Tamura-san send this after he disappeared?" "There's no other conclusion. Is there?" "But why wouldn't he write anything on it?" "I don't know. Was he not able to, or did he intentionally send it blank? Maybe he just wanted me to know that he's still alive." "Even if that's the case, considering he's alive and in a position to contact you, why wouldn't he be?" "I've thought that as well," Yoshiko agreed. Maybe he get caught up in a terrible crime…. Maybe there's some criminal shipping him all across Europe with smuggled goods. Hamburg is a port city after all…" It sounded like the kind of nonsense you'd read in a novel, but Ayumi had heard of that stuff happening in real life, and if anywhere, it would happen in Europe. "Or, maybe he saw something he shouldn't have, and got captured," Yoshiko said. Ayumi flipped the postcard to the back. It was a picture of an old castle. Not one of those rustic fortresses used in wars, this was a dignified, noble building. Where? It didn't seem like Germany. ——Cawdor. Cawdor? She felt like she'd herd the name before. "Is something amiss?" Yoshiko said. Although it was postmarked in Hamburg, the photo is of a castle in England. "Cawdor, right? I heard it somewhere before." At that, Ariga cut in. "Macbeth." "Huh?" "The Thane of Cawdor. The castle Cawdor is the setting for Shakespeare's Macbeth." "Wow, is that so? I didn't realize," Yoshiko said. "So well-educated." "Oh, it was nothing…" Ariga blushed and sputtered. Shakespeare! Shakespeare yet again! Yoshiko had only recieved one letter, but what could it all mean? "——Pardon me, Ma'am." The younger helper woman entered. Milady, Kamioka-san——" "What about him?" "He would like to speak with you." "Alright, let him in." "Yes, Ma'am." "And also, call me "Madam," understand?" "Yes, pardon me." Yoshiko said to Ayumi "Kamioka-san is the driver you came here with," by way of explanation. "He's young, but quite skilled. ——Aah, what do you want?" The driver in question had arrived. "Excuse me, Ma'am. The truth is, the dog was—— "Dog? What dog?" "Err—" Ayumi said. "Actually, your father asked us to bring Don Juan here with us." "What! Don Juan is here…?" Yoshiko clapped her hands together in excitement. "Kamioka-san, bring him here immediately." "You see, he has unfortunately run away." "Run away? Don Juan?" "I'm afraid so. As we left the car, he absconded into the woods." "I'm sure he just remembered a spot where he buried a bone." "We have waited for him to return, but…" "Nothing yet?" "We suddenly heard a violent barking from the woods, and then it just as abruptly— "Was it Don Juan?" "I believe so, Ma'am." "This is terrible. What if he was attacked?" Yoshiko said, seeming quite worried. "I am not aware of any large animals living in this area that could do such a thing." "Let's look for him." Yoshiko stood up. "I am really sorry about this, but you must excuse me." "We can help too." "But—— I could never ask you to——" "It's nothing. Right, Ariga-kun?" "Y, yeah. ——Of course we'll look with you." "Thank you so much. Well, let's go." With the driver named Kamioka taking the lead, the four of them left out the front door. "The barking came from this direction," Kamioka said, pointing in the direction Don Juan had run earlier. "Now, let's walk forward in even distances from each other. He's a smart dog, so he responds to his name." ——Thusly, the cries of four people for "Don Juan!" "Don Juan!" echoed throughout the forest.

10 Footsteps in the Woods

The four of them paced around the woods for around thirty minutes. "Aah, I'm exhausted." On a normal day, Ayumi got hardly any exercise. Having tired herself out, she fell behind from the group and leaned against a tree to rest. But still, where did Don Juan go? If he was attacked by something…. or wait, maybe it wasn't something but someone. Could someone who really didn't want Don Juan to see Yoshiko… killed him…? No, that's a little too far-fetched. ——Of course, so was the idea that Yoshiko would let Don Juan be killed…. Suddenly, a hand came from behind and clamped on her shoulder. "Kyah!" Ayumi jumped. "Did I startle you?" The one standing there was Ariga. "Don't do that!" Ayumi scowled at Ariga. "You're sleeping on the job, aren't ya?" "You're the one who's being lazy. I was thinking." "About?" "I'm sure! She must me——" "Shh! What if she hears you?" "Ah, whoops." Ayumi slightly stuck her tongue out. "——But, she's been acting awfully natural so far. Don't you think?" "Yeah…. She's beautiful." "What does that have to do with it! ——Anyway, if we don't end up finding Don Juan, it's up to us two to investigate." "How though? We don't have anywhere to even start. There's absolutely no way to tell if she's the real Masuguchi Yoshiko, is there? Not without a way to compare." "You have a point." "Still, it's really weird that Masuguchi's willing to dish out three million for this." "Obviously. That was clear to both of us." "And he's making us do it. Why?" Ayumi shrugged. Then, suddenly, an idea hit her. "That's right! How did I not realize before!" she said, knocking her own head with her fist. "What?" "The servants! Like the driver and those helper people—— That young woman would be good. 'Cause she'd probably be the closest with Yoshiko." "Oh yeah. She'd definitely notice if something was weird." "Naturally, somebody planning to impersonate Yoshiko would do expensive research, but they'd never be able to perfectly copy their everyday habits and mannerisms." "That's right, like when she wakes up, does she wash her face first, or use the toilet first?——" "That's your best example?" Ayumi grimaced. "Sorry." "Anyway, we should ask. That young one is bound to tell us something." "Perhaps I could entice her with my dashing good looks." "What are you talking about, pancake face? You leave it to me," Ayumi said. "Oh, let's keep looking for Don Juan. everyone's voices sound pretty far away." "They can do it, let's just rest." "You're a disgrace." "It's tiring, walking around this place." "No class," Ayumi grinned. "Well, there's one way to cheer you up," she said, giving him a quick kiss." "I think I'll be just right after one more." "Aw, too bad. We're sold out at the moment——" As she said that, Ayumi snapped to attention. Something in a bush behind her had moved with a swoosh.

They looked at each other. "Was that…" "Someone's there." "Wh, where?" "Around there. It was moving. ——It wasn't the dog either." "Yeah. The sound would've been closer to the ground." Ayumi poked Ariga in the back. "Well? You're my bodyguard, aren't you?" "Uh… oh, right." Ariga managed to nervously proceed towards the thicket against his will. "H… hey… Is anyone there?" His voice trembled slightly. It wasn't very reassuring. "——Ariga-kun, be careful," Ayumi warned. "It might be a murderer. They might suddenly whip out a knife…" At times like this, it was a bad habit of Ayumi's to get overly-concerned. "S, stop scaring me…. Hey, show yourself! I know you're there! Where are you!" "Grab him as soon as you see him!" "We're still talking about a person, right?" Ariga wisecracked, and at the same time, he stuck his head through the thicket. "Hey…  Come out now. Be a good boy…" "Wow, that was weak," Ayumi sighed. ——Then, suddenly, Ariga screamed "Wah!" and disappeared within the thicket. And then he shouted "You bastard! What are you doing!" and "Ouch!" before the sound of someone falling over. "Ariga-kun!" Ayumi cried out. "Say something!" With another rustling and a "What's the matter?" the driver, Kamioka, came running. "Oh, um—— Something in that thicket, it got Ariga-kun——" Kamioka went over to the thicket and said "Are you alright!?" leaning in. "He's down." "What! ——Ariga-kun!" When Ayumi ran over to the thicket, Ariga was holding his head and starting to sit up. "What happened? Are you okay?" "Yeah…. I guess I kinda got caught unawares… Ah, owowow…" Ariga winced. "Who was it?" "Your guess is as good as mine. I didn't see at all. But it wasn't a dog, that's for sure." "They appear to have run away. The area is clear." Kamioka helped Ariga to his feet. "I have not heard of hoodlums wandering these parts, but you'd do best to be cautious. Are you injured?" "No, not at all. ——My head'll probably have a bump though." "We should probably still have you checked out. Let's return to the inside. Milady has also given up the search for Don Juan." "Without finding him?" "We looked everywhere possible," Kamioka said regretfully. "However, we also did not find any corpse or trace of blood…" "I'm worried about him." "Could ya be a little more worried about me instead?" Ariga said with a sulk.

"——So, can we stay the night here?" Ayumi asked, stopping her knife. Of course, the only thing being stabbed by the knife was her food, as they ate a dinner reminiscent of a five star meal. "Yes, of course. Is there a problem?" "No, it's just… We don't have big homes where I'm from, so I was hoping you’d say yes." "Well please, stay as long as you like," Yoshiko said with a smile. "I'm afraid I'd get expelled from school if I did that," Ayumi smiled back. "And Ariga-san will be leaving with you, I imagine." Meanwhile Ariga had been gobbling down his food and chugging his water."——Th, thank you very much," he finally managed to say. "Wow, this meat is delicious." "Please, take more if you want it." "Really?" Ariga's eyes sparkled. Ayumi gave Ariga a side eye. ——He didn't care that he was being fattened up! ——After the meal, that young maid girl came in with a coffeepot. "Ah, Kuniyo-san," Yoshiko greeted her. "These two are staying over tonight. Could you make arrangements please?" "Yes, Madam," the girl called Kuniyo said while pouring the coffee. "Shall I have you two together in one room?" She asked. "How about it?" "Obviously we'll be separate!" Ayumi said firmly. "I don't care if you have to put him in a closet." "You two are quite the pair," Yoshiko laughed without a care in the world. "We'll prepare adjascent rooms. Will that be acceptable?" "Do they have locks?" Ayumi asked with a serious expression. After dinner, they moved to the living room, where they began speaking about Tamura when he was at school. "I want to know anything you can tell me about him. Because I'm sure he's coming back," Yoshiko said. Ayumi was merely recalling vague events, but Yoshiko leaned forward, hanging on every last word. That's when Ayumi saw tears in Yoshiko's eyes. ——At that moment, she knew she must be the real Yoshiko. If she was a fake pretending to be Yoshiko, there's no way she would suggest for Tamura's aquaintences to stay the night, nor would she ask all this stuff, for fear of making a mistake. If this was acting, it deserved an Oscar. "——Yoshiko-san," Ayumi said. "The truth is, I also recieved a postcard." "Huh?" Yoshiko, not grasping Ayumi's meaning, became flushed. "Except mine had a message written. It didn't mean anything though." "What did it say?" Ayumi explained the gist to the best of her recollection. She didn't stop to think about whether she should share that information, until she was already done speaking. However, once the words have left your mouth, it's impossible to return them. Ayumi glanced at Ariga, and the ever vital bodyguard was sleeping peacefully, having filled his stomach. "He's alive after all. I knew it," Yoshiko said excitedly. "Please show me the postcard." "Yeah, of course. But I don't really get what this has to do with Shakespeare." "Indeed. Let's see—— Venice and Denmark, and what else…" "Verona. And then you one you got, Cawdor." "Macbeth, Hamlet, The Merchant of Venice, Romeo and Juliet. ——They don't have any similarities in content. Some are tragedies and some are comedies, even…" "Well, at least we know that Tamura-san's alive." Yoshiko let out a deep sigh and said "What is he up to?" under her breath. "——Pardon me." The girl named Kuniyo had arrived. "Ah yes, please tidy up here." "Yes, Ma'am. The guests' rooms have been prepared as well." "Thank you kindly. Show them the way, please." Yoshiko stood up. "Well, make yourselves at home. If you don't yet wish to retire, feel free to keep using this room." Ayumi and the finally-awake Ariga gave a quick farewell and then followed the girl named Kuniyo out of the living room. "It's on the second floor," Kuniyo said as she lead the way up the stairs. "Do you live here?" Ayumi asked. "Yes. I sleep in a room on the first floor." "Sounds tough." "On the contrary. I'm comfortable getting up early in the morning, and I'm able to save my money." Despite first appearances, she seemed to be a rather strong kid. They stepped into the second floor hallway, where countless doors extended. "There's a lot of rooms, huh." "We are able to house up to ten guests here." "Ten!" Ariga, still drowsy, shook his head. "Back home we don't even have room for a single guest. The most we've ever accomodated was a stray cat on the porch," he said. "——This is your room, Tsukagawa-sama, and here is your's, Ariga-sama." "Thank you." "It is my pleasure." After Kuniyo left, Ayumi opened her door. ——For a guestroom it was extravagant. On the level of the finest hotels, like what you'd get on a business trip, completely luxurious and with a large bed. It had its own bathroom and shower as well. "——The same layout, I see," Ariga said, coming in. "Well, except it's mirrored left to right." "Hey, you should knock when you're entering a lady's room." "You're not naked yet so it's fine." "I guess I can't argue with that. ——I'm gonna find Kuniyo's room later. I'm sure she knows something useful." "Be careful. You don't wanna end up like me." Ariga rubbed the bump on his head conspicuously. "I was already worried about Don Juan, and now there's also the human that hit you…" "Yeah, I'm takin' it easy tonight." "What? You're coming with me as my bodyguard." "Can't tonight. I ate so much I'm about to pass out…" "How careless. What if something happens to me tonight and you don't find out until morning?" "Then I'd be really broken up about it." "That's it?" "And I'd bring flowers to your grave." Aymi couldn't help but laugh. ——There came a knock on the door. "Tsukagawa-san, is this a good time?" It was Yoshiko. When she opened the door and noticed Ariga, she said "Oh, am I interrupting something?" "No, absolutely not." "Um—— this is probably a weird question, but you remember that postcard I showed you from Tamura… do you happen to know where it went?" Ayumi and Ariga gave each other a look. "——You don't have it?" "No. Just now I thought I should go put it away, but I couldn't find it anywhere. I looked in all the drawers and I even got Kuniyo to help me search every nook and cranny of the living room. But still…" "Weird. Ariga, do you know?" "Nope, no clue." "I see…" After calming down a bit, Yoshiko murmered "I feel like something bad will happen," almost to herself. "—Yoshiko-san." "Forget it, I'm sure it'll turn up somewhere. I apologize for disturbing you," Yoshiko said before giving a quick bow and exiting. Ayumi and Ariga stood awhile in silence. Ayumi broke first. "Maybe someone took it?" "Hmm… This might not be relevant, but she seemed really concerned over it, huh." "She did, didn't she? She must truly love Tamura. —I think so, at least." In saying that, Ayumi was convincing herself as well.

To be continued in chapter 11...