#that he figured it out. he just ran tests and put her on the transplant list

[the-unofficial-village-idiot]

Of course I'm thinking about house breaking his own hand when he was detoxing for a bet so he could focus on something other than his leg. Of course I'm thinking about his conversation with the self-harming, bulimic patient who accidentally destroyed her own heart. The patient asks if house wants her to cry and he shouts in response that he would, that he'd like any indication of whether she cares if she lives or dies. Of course I'm thinking about him lying to the transplant committee for her, putting his medical license on the line to save her life. The way this case seemed personal

[phawareglobal]

Carol Doyle Plowman - phaware® interview 430

15 years ago, after the birth of her 2nd child, Canadian pulmonary hypertension patient, Carol Doyle Ploughman was told she had only two years to live. Now, a decade and a half later, on her birthday, Carol discusses how she has maintains a healthy and active lifestyle and the importance of clinical trials for PH patients.

My name is Carol Doyle Plowman. I live in Ontario, Canada and I was diagnosed about 15 years ago with pulmonary hypertension at Toronto General Hospital. I got diagnosed after the birth of my second child, but symptoms arose right after the first pregnancy. It wasn't diagnosed. What happened was I didn't do too well with the second pregnancy. I went into delivery early. I had my second child six weeks early. About a week after my second child was born, I went into heart failure. That's when they discovered I had pulmonary hypertension.  It took several weeks after that just to confirm the diagnosis, because when I first went to a walk-in, they said that I should go to the ER. When I went to the ER, that doctor actually told me that my swelling was the natural part of motherhood and I should just go home and deal with it. I remember leaving there in tears and I said to my husband, "Something's not right. I don't care that he's a doctor. I need to figure out what's going on." Because at that point, I was barely walking. I had pins and needles in my legs. They were swollen to the point where I could barely walk because of the pain. My family doctor referred me to a local internist. I was in his office five minutes when he had me running a bunch of tests. For a whole week, he ran tests and then sent me to a cardiologist who told me I had two years to live if I didn't get a lung transplant. The community we have is so very important because back then, there was so much misdiagnosis, or even if you got the correct diagnosis, the information that you got may not always have been accurate. So the fact that it's 15 years later and I don't have a lung transplant, while I am on triple medication to control the disease, I'm in a far better place than I imagine myself to be. You can only imagine how it feels. I had a four-year-old, a three-week-old, and I'm told that I'm not going to live more than two years unless I got a lung transplant. At that point, a cardiologist referred me to Dr. Granton at Toronto General. A week later when my husband and I went down there, we had all these questions about lung transplants and he's like, "Whoa, whoa, whoa." He's like, "No, no, no, that's not where we're going. We're going to start you on medication." We kind of giggled because we thought lung transplant or nothing. Dr. Graham's like, "It's not funny." I'm like, "We're giggling because it’s a relief." They wanted to put me in the hospital because I had so much fluid backed up, but because I had the young baby at home. I didn't want that. So I said I would do whatever it took, just let me do it at home. I was on a heavy dose of diuretics. The first night, I lost seven pounds and within the first week I lost 36 pounds of fluid. When I think back about 36 pounds, it's a huge amount of weight to lose in one week, but it was just that's how much fluid my body was retaining at that point. Dr. Granton and his team basically said, my second child is basically like an angel, because if they didn't come when they did, we may not have detected it and I could have died. At that point I was just so thankful, but I was also kind of angry because being told wrong information, and I felt that the cardiologist and the neurologist I saw before that ... because during those four years before the second pregnancy, I had seen a neurologist because they told me I had syncope and I needed to stop drinking coffee. There's just all this different things that they told me at that point. All the symptoms had another answer. It wasn't until I went into heart failure during the pregnancy that everything got figured out. I did write an article about Dr. Browning who I felt saved my life, because he knew instantly what path to go up with the testing and if it wasn't for him, I don't know if I'd be here. That actually led to the Ontario Lung Association seeing the publication that I wrote about Dr. Browning. They asked me to do an interview for the doctors for Ontario, which I did because at that point I wanted to do whatever I could so the next person wouldn't have to go through any struggles of getting diagnosed. Not only did they run it in a commercial where I was in a commercial with other people for different reasons of dealing with the Ontario doctors, they actually posted a poster of me down around Toronto General Hospital on the subways and stuff. So at the end when they went into their next phase of doing a different interview, they actually sent me the poster, which I thought was pretty cool. There was one point where my husband was away out of business and he was in a bar with clients, and he looked up because he is like, I hear my wife. The customer looked at him and he is like, "What do you mean?" He looked up and there I was on the TV. I like to think that that started helping people. So the first person I reached out to after Googling about pulmonary hypertension was a lady by the name of Loretta Chu. She had at that point just started a support group here in Toronto. She created the Toronto Chapter for Pulmonary Hypertension, back 15, 16 years ago. My first introduction to anyone else with the same disease was when I went to one of the support groups where Loretta was running it. It was quite the eyeopener. It's not a one size fits all disease, because while my symptoms are fluid retention and I have to take diuretics and watch my sodium. Not everyone has the same restrictions, or not everyone can take the same medications. I started out with Revatio for the first year. They added Tracleer the year after that, and I was on Tracleer just until two months ago, because they added a third. We tried Adcirca. Adcirca did not work for me, I couldn't even get out of bed. So they switched Adcirca to Uptravi, which seems to be good for me, but they just recently, because of some symptoms that I've been having, switched it out to Ambrisentan. I've noticed a difference. Like I go walking with my husband, they usually have to push me up a hill, or I have to stop halfway up. I can't get to the top, or if I get to the top, I have to stop for a couple of minutes to catch my breath. Since they replace Tracleer with the Ambrisentan, I can get up to the top the hill without stopping. I don't stop even once I reach there. I still get winded and I can still feel it, but I don't have to stop to get it back to a normal beat. The thing I realized it's always like baby steps. It's like I know I'm never going to ride a bike again. I've tried. I try once a year every year to test myself. The last time I did it, I passed out on it, on the sidewalk in front of my young child. It really scared them, so they asked me not to try it again, so I haven't since. But I try to find the things that I can do that will make me happier, different things I could do with my kids. I can't coach soccer, but I would always be on the sidelines watching. It's just about finding balance. I know a lot of people that have illnesses. It's like a lot of people say, I don't look sick, so I'm not sick, so they forget that you're going to do something, I can't do it. If you're going to go anywhere hiking, if there's big hills, I can't go, or I can go, but I can't climb that hill. It does impact it. It has changed friendships, but the important people are still there. My kids don't know any different. I'm very lucky that I have really good support system. My husband picked up a lot of slack with the kids when they were younger, when they wanted to do biking and stuff like that. I try to be very optimistic, because as long as I wake up and I'm breathing, then there's something to live for. Maybe I say that because I am stable and I have been for a little while. I don't know if I think the same way, if I wasn't as stable as I am. I also make sure I follow all my restrictions and do whatever the doctor tells me I need to do. My opinion is it's changed friendships because of the fact that I do have some limitations. So fluid restrictions, for example… I had some friends that like to drink, and maybe drink a little bit more than I can. For me to go out and have a drink or two, that means I'm going most of the day without any fluid or little fluid, and that fluid, of course, is always usually water or soda, water. Then, of course, alcohol is dehydrating, so it doesn't really play well with the fact that I have to take diuretics because of fluid retention. Then the next day, you tend to be thirsty. It's a hard thing to replenish. So I find some of those friends have gone by the wayside because I'm not able to go out and party like I'm 20 anymore. And you know what, I don't even know if I'd really want to. But again, some others would be ladies that I worked out with or did boot camps with. So different things that would make the friendships were broken because of the illness. So things changed, but there's also some friendships that I gain new friendships, or some friendships that actually made it through. I just believe that they were just true friends and they would be there regardless. I'm actually at the point where I'm very lucky there's a lady in town who does classes and I go to twice a week and I do some interval training, which I got Dr. Granton to approve. I go at my own pace. A lot of it is chair. I know my sister-in-law does chair yoga for some people. We do stuff where we might do low weights sitting in a chair and not a lot of movements over my head. You just work it into what you're able to do instead of looking at what you cannot do. For the first month, I detached from the baby because I didn't think I was going to be there. I didn't want the baby to get attached to me. My mother-in-law, my father-in-law pretty much, because my husband travels for work, they came to stay with me during the week and then my husband would be here on weekends. There is a bad side to the disease for sure. I just don't like to dwell on that part. I went into a bit of a dark place. I felt like I couldn't do anything, so I didn't. I didn't even try at the beginning. And it took probably a good two years. I don't know how I got the, I call it your wake-up, your aha moment, but I thought, I don't want this, I want to be able to do stuff. So I reached out to a local lady because I saw a commercial for TRX, and I'm like, "Could I do that?" She's like, "Under the circumstances for your condition," she's like, "No." She's like, "But do you ever want to try personal training?" I'm like, "I never even thought of it." And I did. I contacted the doctor and I'm like, "am I able to try this?" Because right now I spent almost three years where I was doing nothing. I couldn't even pick something up in the grocery store from a lower shelf without holding onto a shelf to get back up, because you lose your muscle tone. You're not using your muscles and you're just sitting around all the time. I think that was my aha moment, because when I started doing the personal trainer, I still remember the first squat I did was with a ball against a wall and I did two. I could probably do stand up and do 40 squats right now. So it's all a matter of, I try not to think any more about what I can't do. I tell my kids this all the time, you think about what you can do or what you want to do, and you try it. If you try it and you can't do it, that's great. I mean, it's not great, but at least you tried. But if you're not even trying, then how do you know? That goes for anything in life, not just people with an illness. How do you know what you're going to like or dislike, whether it be tasting different food, or travel, or any of it really. So I try to always tell them, look at the brighter side, be more optimistic and try different things. At the beginning when the kids were younger, I did any type of trials. I remember the first trial I did, and I actually had something posted in the PH magazine about it. I did this trial and you don't know if you're on placebo or not. I'd still get the same feelings. You'd still get the fatigue, but you could do a little further. So I could walk a little further. I could last a little longer doing something. They canceled the study because they weren't getting enough positive feedback from, I guess, the people that were involved. I was devastated. Would I let it stop me from doing it again, no, but you need to be aware if you ever agree to do a study or anything like that, that there's pros and cons to it as well. I was not mentally prepared for them stopping it. They never tell you whether you're on the placebo or not. But I said to my husband, I'm like, "I know I wasn’t. There's no way I could have done that." Because when the drug went away and I'm back on my normal meds, I went back to the same where I was before the study. I remember when I had my appointment with my doctor and I'm like, "You gave me candy and you took it away and I want my candy back." That's when they decided at that point, that's when they introduced me to the third medication, because it's like you showed me a little more, that I could move a little more, and I wanted it back. I felt so good at that point. I didn't want to not feel good anymore. So I'm like, "I want candy back." So they're like, "Okay, let's check it out." I remember going in and doing a study. They were going to take a piece of muscle out of your leg. And I'm like, "Sure." Because Dr. Granton knows if there's a study that I qualify for, he just calls me and is like, "Are you interested?" And I'm like, "Yep." I still, to this day do that, because there's just a lot of factors that you just don't know. If they come out with new medication for it or other options for other things, then why not try? I don't lose anything from doing the volunteering, right? I have a little scar from them taking a chunk of muscle out of my leg. They actually had to do it twice, because the first time they didn't take a big enough piece. They're like, "Can we do it again?" I'm like, "Don't even ask me. Just do it and do it quick." I liked being able to do that. I haven't been asked to do anything in a study basis for a little while now, and I do miss it, because it always made me feel close to the community by doing these things. I think the studies are important because we all want the same thing. Anyone with PH, we all want the same thing, we want a cure. So these studies help, not only with new medications, but hopefully the end result is figuring out enough from these studies that they maybe come up with this cure, because I hope to be alive for that day. Because right now, the only option we have is lung transplant, and that's not a cure because that comes with this whole gambit of things that you need to do, and medications you need to take at that point. So it'd be nice to think that there's going to be a future with a cure. I think it's doable. Because we're not all one and the same as far as symptoms and everything else, I think they need a huge array of people to do the volunteering so that they can collect as much information as they can. My name is Carol Doyle Plowman, and I'm aware that I am rare.

Learn more about pulmonary hypertension trials at www.phaware.global/clinicaltrials. Follow us on social @phaware Engage for a cure: www.phaware.global/donate #phaware Share your story: info@phaware.com @phacanada 

  Listen and View more on the official phaware™ podcast site

[anntoldst0ries]

Diagnosis

I just want to say thank you from the bottom of my heart to all of you who read my previous fic and left such kind comments. You can’t imagine how much I appreciate this!

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Vicky Valentine)

Word Count: 2,911

Summary: Dr Ramsey attempts to diagnose the most difficult case in his career...his own.

Warnings: None! A lot of introspection again and hints of angst :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ethan Ramsey considered himself a brave man.

He always had the courage to say whatever he wanted to say or what had to be said - be that a terminal diagnosis, savaging someone’s speech at a medical conference (only if the speaker was talking nonsense, that is), scolding an intern - you name it. 

With years of experience under his belt, Dr Ramsey excelled at the “art” of saying the most horrible, unpleasant and inconvenient things. It was a process he took to pieces and mastered every tiniest part.

He knew exactly what they were whispering behind his back in the hospital corridors. Dr Ramsey is a bully. A ruthless cynic. No one survived more than 3 minutes of his tirades without bursting into tears. Or, as some of the interns so lovingly put it, he was “the only survivor of a heart transplant”. The last remark had been conveyed to him by Baz, who found it hilarious…and so did Naveen. It took one deadly look to silence Baz forever, however Naveen used every occasion to remind his protégé of hospital’s favourite joke:

‘How’s your heart, Ethan?’

‘Good, why are you as—‘ Ethan didn’t have a chance to finish answering the question, interrupted by Dr Banerji who was in convulsions.

‘God, Naveen, for such a bright mind and one of the best doctors in the world, I still find it hard to believe that you have a sense of humour of a 5 year old’

‘There is nothing wrong with some joy, Ethan. You should try it sometimes, it may do you good.’

Similar conversations took place on a regular basis, but they always ended with Ethan rolling his eyes and Naveen sighing. Younger doctor would never, ever tell his mentor off, he respected him too much. So Ethan let Dr Banerji have some fun at his expense from time to time.

But, truth be told, he kept his emotions at a leash and he was good at it, because there wasn’t a thing in Ethan’s life that he wasn’t good at. Regardless of what it was - saving people’s lives or emotional self-deprivation.

That’s why reminiscing past 2 years was so hard for accomplished diagnostician. He couldn’t help but think that he’s lived more during this time than he’s lived during his whole life. His existence wasn’t a boring one, he loved his job and the cases that the team had to crack were mostly complex and thus exciting. There was also a sense of fulfilment and servitude to a greater cause.

As a kid, Ethan wanted to be a detective. It all started with Alan buying his son one of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s books. There was no hidden intention in this choice - Alan simply ran out of book ideas, Ethan was literally gobbling up the books at his disposal and was thirsty for more. Therefore, Mr Ramsey picked picked one of the thickest positions available in the book shop, with hopes it will keep Ethan occupied for at least a couple of weeks. Oh, how wrong he was - 5 days later his son was already begging for more.

Sherlock Holmes and Hercules Poirot quickly took the top spot on the list of Ethan’s childhood heroes. He was obsessed with their investigative methods, their sharp minds that captured even the tiniest of details and how missing those nuances would make solving a mystery a lot harder, if not impossible. 

That’s why he became obsessed with details. He analysed, compared, observed and noted down everything around him with deliberation. After a while, Ethan realised that these skills come handy in various areas of life. He could read people and to a degree foresee what their next move was going to be. If he wanted to, he could probably try and influence their decisions too. If it wasn’t for Alan’s upbringing, this particular skill might have taken his life onto a dark track, but fortunately he utilised it for greater good.

Having this sort of insight made him very self-conscious and he never turned away from reliving his own decisions and behaviours, which helped him become a better doctor, every single day. But he never wallowed in the mud of emotions, instead always operating on facts.

But for the past couple of months, this process became a pure torture. 

You know what they say, the devil is in the detail. And the devil it was indeed. 

The devil that would be the death of Ethan was 5’4, had raven hair, plumped lips, mesmerising eyes and a captivating laugh. 

Suddenly, he heard the devil’s voice in his head.

‘Are you pinching the bridge of your nose right now?’ 

He was.

‘God dammit!’ - shouted Ethan, so loud that he startled poor Jenner, who resigned from occupying the sofa and ran straight to his bed. Even the retriever, in his doggy wisdom, knew that when his master was upset, it was best to stay out of his sight and wait for the storm to pass.

Whenever Dr Ramsey had a serious dilemma, he would subtly join his thumb and index finger to pinch the gentle skin between eyes. She knew of this somewhat subconscious habit and teased him about it countless times. 

With most people, the whole observing and reading process was a one-sided game. For majority of mortals, Ethan was a closed book and they had no idea how to open, let alone read it. But not Rookie. She saw right through him. Ethan considered himself a riveting mystery thriller before, if we’re talking comparisons, but right now he was probably a cheap Harlequin. How did he sink so low in practically no time?

The answer came before he was even able to finish the question.

He was hopelessly, utterly and irreversibly in love with Dr Vicky Valentine.

“Victoria….” he whispered. He knew her full name, he’s read her bloody application and her employee file many, many times. More than he’d ever care to admit. Neither him nor anyone else addressed her by her full name. She always introduced herself as Vicky and even mentioned to him, June & Baz one time that she considered herself too young to be a bearer of such gracious name. But when the name fell out of his lips, it made perfect sense. Victoria. Victory. After a long, tough and heartbreaking battle, she’s won all of him. And man, wasn’t she fighting fiercely. 

She was so much like him, and yet so different. Patients loved her, and for a good reason - not only was she amazing at her job, but also so genuinely caring about every patient she met. Somehow, she was able to see past people weary of their conditions, instead she always noticed the human beings with their unique stories. Thanks to her, patients never felt like sickness became their identity, but merely a stage in their life that shall soon pass. 

Hospital staff adored her as well, she had time and a huge smile for everyone; her bright aura lit up every room she walked into and was a pleasure to be around. 

Those who knew Ethan a bit better or worked with him were aware of the insanely high standards he was holding himself to. And it would have been fine if they only applied to him, but he held everyone else to the same standard too. It was his buffer. Most gave up without even trying, it was humanly impossible to live up to such expectations. And that was the goal. Dr Ramsey wanted no distractions and if anyone wanted so much as approach him, they had a giant wall to jump over first.

But the young intern wasn’t bothered in the slightest. Dozens of people before her stood in front of the wall and tried to figure out how to get in. And she… she just found a tiny gap and squeezed right through. Before Ethan realised what’s going on, it was already too late. And she wasn’t even fully aware of what she’s done.

Like air, she’s entered his life imperceptibly, filling every space until there was nothing else. She was in every reflection he saw, every smile, every freaking thing a reminder of her, one way or another.

He was completely under her spell, enchanted, drunk in the thought of her.

The most ironic part was that if he went by his unreasonable standards, she’d never stand a chance.

She was messy, she was a klutz, she laughed too loud and rounded her eyes like a child when something seriously excited her.

And yet, something about her made him break all of his rules, lower his guard and re-think everything he’s ever thought he knew and believed in. 

Obviously, he wouldn’t be himself if the occupational quirk did not kick in at some point. Whatever the cause, Dr Ramsey had to get to the bottom of it, no matter how many tests did he have to run on his mind and heart. He needed the diagnosis so he could start the treatment. But his sharp diagnostic skills which made him a famous man, suddenly decided to go on unplanned vacation and it looks like they were not coming back anytime soon.

Ambivalence became Ethan’s newest companion. Some days, he thought he was going to blow his brains out, the others he was strangely content and did not want to analyse anything, things were good just as they were.

For the first time in his life, he felt truly lost. He felt like Jon Snow, he knew nothing. It wasn’t a result of one event, rather a chain reaction. Starting with Naveen getting sick, the inability to figure out what was wrong with his mentor made Ethan seriously doubt his capabilities as a doctor. Then, Louise Ramsey made a surprise reappearance after having walked out on him and his dad 25 years earlier. When he was little, his dad use to say that wherever Louise goes, trouble follows and it wasn’t any different this time. She brought company - insecurity, sorrow, resentment - to name just a few. Ethan felt like someone ripped a band aid from his heart and painfully reminded him that all the wounds are still alive and never really healed. 

And finally, Edenbrook. The place that others saw as walls, glass, beds, people in white coats, sickness, illness, death. To him, it was much, much more. The hospital had almost a transcendental dimension. It was here that Ethan’s transition had been completed. He shed his old skin and became Dr Ramsey, the person he was always meant to be.

That’s why Edenbrook closing hit him so hard - a part of him was about to die and be buried beneath years of sweat, tears and effort. It was probably the hardest thing to come to terms with in the 37 years that he’s been walking on the surface of the Earth.

And throughout all these events, she was with him.

She never gave up on Naveen and Ethan knew that there was more to it than just saving Edenbrook’s most prominent doctor. He believed, he wanted to believe that she did this for him too. 

The memory brought shame that drained off him like unpleasant wave of cold water. Ethan never really forgave himself for just laying in his bed like a drunk bag of potatoes, whilst she was busting her gut to solve the case, even though she had ethics hearing to prepare for. A hearing that could make or break her whole career, before she even had a chance to start.

Dr Ramsey would like to think they were alike. But as a matter of fact, she was a much better person than him.

Then, with his mother in the picture, she never told him what to do. Even though he asked, many times. He hoped someone can actually make the decision for him, because it hurt so much to even think about this, let alone decide what to do next. But she never did. She was just there and by simply being, she empowered him to make his own, informed decision. 

She was there, like no one else was in his entire life. Not to take anything from Naveen, who had tremendous effect on Ethan’s life - but this was completely different.

She penetrated his soul.

She made him feel.

Love.

It was the first time he used this word in a long, long time. 

And maybe, quite possibly, for the first time in his life he used it with intention. 

He thought he felt it once before. 

When he was a student at Johns Hopkins, Ethan met Camille. She was a year older than him, with angelic voice and looks, the cascade of blond locks surrounding her gentle facial features like a halo. 

What impressed him was that she kept hitting up on him, not the other way round. He’s had his mind set on graduating as a top student in his class and then getting the best residency there was - in Edenbrook hospital in Boston. It was either him or someone else. University romances were of no interest to him, or so he thought. After all, he’s just gone past his teenage years and was relatively new to the world of intimate human desires. As much as he tried to push them away, he had needs and his hormones were still a giant part of his decision-making process, doesn’t matter how hard he tried denying it.

Also, there was something motherly about her and she reminded him of the woman who left him when he was just a boy. It was completely fucked-up, he hated his mother and yet a memory of her and how he’d once do anything for her was tattooed in the insides of his brain.

Ethan and Camille shared a passion for medicine, music and opera. A few times, he was close to bringing her down to Providence, to introduce her to Alan, his father. But there was this weird voice in his head stopping him. 

Maybe that’s why he wasn’t overly surprised when one day he walked on Camille. In his bed. Screaming and making other explicit sounds…except, he wasn’t the igniter. It was none other than his best friend at the time, Tobias. Ethan would never forget the jealous glance he shot him with when he first brought Camille to one of the student parties. And then things got worse. Ethan and Tobias always competed and for a long time it was a fuel that kept them both going. But when someone wins, someone has to lose. Neither of them was good at losing or accepting the failure. 

Ethan was doing better than his best friend. Not significantly better, the difference between them had usually been slight, but it was there. Tobias couldn’t swallow this. Not only was Ethan doing better than him, he also had one of the most beautiful students at Hopkins by his side. Jealousy started to spread inside him like a wildfire and since his attempts to beat Ethan at school were futile, he decided to make use of his other skills. Tobias was a born flirter and charmer. He often used to say that no woman can resist his spell and that “where there’s a woman - there’s a way.”

Dr Ramsey never told anyone, but having found out that his girlfriend cheated on him with his best friend was sort of relief. Call it sixth sense, an intuition… subconsciously he sort of felt that she wasn’t a girl for him. As for Tobias, he was tired of the fight….of Tobias fighting with him, that is. Ethan wasn’t fighting, he was just a better student and was going to be a better doctor. He was tired of petty competition and how the toxin poisoned their relationship.

So they actually made him a favour and helped him killed 2 birds with 1 stone - he was saved from having an awkward break-up conversation that he’s never went through before and he now had every right to hate Tobias. He didn’t really, as such feelings were a waste of energy, but a week later Tobias moved out of their shared apartment and they never really spoke again.

After Camille, he was only in a brief relationship once. With Harper. He deeply admired and respected her, but when things started getting too serious (from her side), he distanced himself. And so, for a couple of years to follow, they were on the off and on again terms. They went through countless friends with benefits stages, but he genuinely enjoyed her company. They just never wanted the same things, which became more and more evident as she was getting older. And he respected her too much to mess her around.

Ethan’s career was everything to him and he accepted the fact that falling in love and having a family is just not in the cards for him.

Or so he thought.  

Dr Valentine entered his life one September morning and hasn’t left ever since. And, hell, hasn’t he tried to erase her. To make her hate him. To draw a line between work and personal life. He could honestly say that he tried everything.

For the love of God, he ran to fucking Amazon! He tried to hide from all things Dr Valentine, like a fool who forgot one of the most basic rules of life: there is no running away from yourself. 

Tag list (please let me know if you wish to be removed): @terrm9 @openheart12 @openheartthot @rookie-ramsey @alwaysmychoices @brooks-eden @drethanramslay @starrystarrytrouble @justanotherrookie @caseyvalentineramsey@incorrectopenheart @heauxplesslydevoted @perriewinklenerdie @mercury84choices @archxxronrookie @renasalek-blog @maurine07 @whippedforethanfreakingramsey @lemonmiddleton @tsrookie @choicesfan10 @dr-colossal-pita @queencarb @gryffindordaughterofathena @qrkowna @aarisa-frost @choicesficwriterscreations

[ohayohimawari]

NartYasha Not!Fic

I’ve had NartYasha on the brain thanks to Sloaners’ server, and I present a post of purely self-indulgent snippets and scenarios of a day in the crossover world of my imagination.

I’d put the rating at G-T; no TW content.

I hope it makes you laugh! Nonsense begins below the cut.

“Ugh—hurry up, Dad, Mom!” Kakashi stood in front of the opened door to the Hatake home, one foot outside of it, and both arms folded across his chest. “I don’t want to be late!”

“I know that you’re excited, Kakashi, but you’re not supposed to meet your team for another hour,” Kaguya called out to her son. “Besides,” she turned her attention to her husband, “your father still needs…to get ready.”

Sakumo sat with his back to her, but his sporadic sniffing and shaking shoulders betrayed the emotions he tried to hide.

“Sakumo, your face will be all red and puffy when we go to meet them,” Kaguya soothed as she neared her husband.

“I know,” Sakumo sighed in resignation, “I know.”

“You don’t want to be confused for Maito, do you?” Kaguya made a gentle joke about their dear family friend, Dai.

It worked, and Sakumo chuckled through his drying tears. “No, I don’t. It’s just, he’s growing up so fast, Kaguya! It seems like only yesterday that he was falling out of trees instead of walking up them—”

“That was yesterday,” Kaguya interrupted Sakumo to remind him of the previous day’s installment of adventures in parenthood.

“—and today he’s meeting his Genin team and Jōnin leader,” he spoke over his wife, fresh tears welling up in his eyes.

Kaguya watched two new tears fall when her husband blinked as he returned his gaze to their son’s Pre-K art project that he held in his hands. Sakumo ran his fingers across the handprint that a five-year-old Kakashi had pressed into clay and then ran his thumb over the inverted “s” of their son’s signature.

“Sakumo,” she cooed his name, “if you keep this up, your tears will blind you to the memories that are forming now,” she reached for the clay keepsake. He handed it over and nodded, discerning the sense in her words.

Kaguya smiled at Sakumo and brushed his bristling mane from his eyes. “I worry about how you’ll react when Kakashi goes on his first mission,” she chuckled lightly.

Sakumo gaped at her, wide-eyed, and his bottom lip began to quiver once again.

 ***

 Though it was later than Kakashi would’ve liked, the Hatake family was still the first to arrive at the training grounds (with a rehearsed and believable excuse involving allergies for Sakumo’s red eyes).

“See, Kakashi? There was no need to rush. We’re here before your sensei has arrived,” Sakumo gently scolded his son in a thick voice.

“‘A shinobi must prepare before it is too late to,’” Kakashi recited in a pious tone.

Before Sakumo could caution against following the shinobi rules too strictly, one of Konoha’s most accomplished Jōnin materialized out of thin air, literally.

“Hello Mr. Hatake, Mrs. Hatake,” he bowed to them, “it’s an honor to teach your son.”

“Namikaze,” Sakumo addressed the Jōnin through a relieved smile. “I’m happy to know he’ll be trusted to you.”

“I’m right here, you know,” Kakashi grumbled.

“You’re right. Hello,” the Jōnin issued a warm, gentle smile that was in direct contrast to the dangerous shinobi he was known to be within the Leaf, and beyond. “You can call me Minato-sensei.”

“And you can call him Bakashi,” a raven-haired boy cackled as he ran toward the group.

“Don’t be rude, Obito,” an elderly woman scolded from where she trailed behind him.

“Ah, you must be Obito Uchiha,” Minato turned his smile to the new arrivals.

“Yep, that’s me!” Obito beamed, and then jerked his thumb at Kakashi. “I’m the one you should focus on training, Minato-sensei because I’m going to be Hokage!”

“Is that so?” Minato tilted his head in amusement.

“You bet! I can already see my face carved into the mountainside,” Obito bragged.

“I think you need to clean your goggles then—”

“Kakashi!” Kaguya said his name sharply, causing her son to visibly wince above his mask.

“My grandson deserved that,” the elderly woman had reached the group, “please excuse him. Now then, Obito, will you introduce me to your friends?”

“Oh, right, sorry,” Obito scratched at the back of his head. “This is my Granny, Kaede. She’s a priestess from uh,” he hesitated and stole a glance at her, “somewhere else. But she moved here because she didn’t want me to live alone,” he smirked at her when he finished.

Kaede smirked back at him briefly and then raised her one-eyed gaze to the others. “I wasn’t about to let my grandson become a victim of this village’s ‘orphan care program,’” she said, sarcastic.

Minato and Sakumo shifted uncomfortably, but Kaguya was the first to speak. “It’s awful, isn’t it? I’m also a transplant to Konoha, and I can’t believe they’ve let it get this bad—”

“How did you lose your eye?” Kakashi interrupted his mother, unable to contain his curiosity and unaware that such an awkward question was impolite.

Kaede chuckled, easing Sakumo and Kaguya’s embarrassment. “In battle,” she said, low and dramatic, “against a fearsome yōkai.” She leaned over to meet Kakashi’s eyes. “He got much worse than he gave, I promise you,” she added in a dangerous voice for effect.

Kakashi stood unblinking for a few moments, clearly deep in thought, but kept them to himself. Then, he closed one eye and looked around him to test how it altered his vision.

Sakumo cleared his throat to distract from his son’s latest social faux pas. “So, do you know who your third student is, Namikaze?”

“I haven’t met her yet, but I hear she made quite an impression on Lord Third. Lady Kaede brought her along when she first came to Konoha, correct?” Minato asked.

“Yes,” Kaede nodded. “I offered to look after her while her guardian was away because we take care of orphans where I come from. She and Obito became fast friends, and it seemed cruel to part them, so I signed her up to be a Genin.”

“Wait—what do you mean you ‘signed her up’? Genin have to graduate from the Academy first,” Minato lost a little of his serene countenance.

“Money talks,” Kaede shrugged. “Apparently, Konoha is broke. That might explain all the orphans running around,” she muttered. “Anyway, her guardian is bringing her from my world so he can sign off on the paperwork.”

“Your���your world?”

“Whoa!” Kakashi exclaimed, with both eyes opened wide again.

The others followed his gaze upwards to find a massive white dog soaring overhead. It circled a few times as it descended and touched down gracefully on the training grounds. A man with long white hair and dog ears jumped down immediately, then reached up to lift a young girl off the back of the dog.

“Rin!” Obito shouted and ran off to greet the newcomers.

The little girl waved enthusiastically back at them, as the large white dog transformed into a man right before their eyes.

“Wh-where did you say you were from?” Minato stuttered.

“Another dimension,” Kaede gestured one hand as if to brush her cryptic confession off as trivial, “the Bone-Eater’s well acts as a portal to just about anywhere.”

“Excuse me, the what?”

“I wasn’t expecting Sesshōmaru to bring Inuyasha with him,” Kaede squinted at the approaching figures and ignored Minato’s question.

“Are they the girl’s guardians?” Kaguya asked.

“Sesshōmaru is, yes, and Inuyasha is her uncle. This could be troublesome,” Kaede sighed and then offered a bit more by way of explanation. “Sesshōmaru is a dog demon, as you can probably guess, and his brother is a half-demon.”

Kakashi continued to stare at Sesshōmaru in reverent awe until they were near enough to speak, though no one knew what to say.

Eventually, Sakumo broke the shocked silence. “My wife is from the moon,” he announced, unsolicited.

Kaguya stood beside her husband and placed one hand on her son’s shoulder. She then opened her third eye in the middle of her forehead.

Minato fainted.

***

 Minato recovered in time to issue the bell test, and pass his first team of Genin, to his delight. After receiving the applause and praise from the small crowd in the parents’ section, the newly formed Team Minato set to kunai practice.

“I don’t know how they can consider those tiny things ‘weapons,’ even Sesshōmaru’s Tenseiga is more dangerous than—”

“Silence, Inuyasha!” Sesshōmaru punctuated his reprimand with a sharp blow to his half-brother’s head, knocking him to the ground.

“Some ninja are trained with swords,” Sakumo offered, “I carry the White Light Chakra Sabre on my missions. And, of course, there are the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist, each of whom carries a powerful, renowned blade.”

“Is that so?” Sesshōmaru arched an eyebrow, the only hint at how impressed he was. “Perhaps it would be worth extending our visit in your world,” he said through a slight, but very dangerous, grin.

 ***

 “Minato! I found another one.”

A red-haired woman stormed onto the training grounds with a furious expression on her face, and a terrified, tiny ninja in tow.

“Ah, Kushina, can this wait? We’re in the middle of kunai practice—Nevermind,” he quickly changed his mind when her temper visibly mounted.

“This one hasn’t been able to speak at all,” Kushina’s voice came more gently as she presented the small shinobi to Minato. The young boy turned his large, almond eyes at her, and then to Minato in apparent confusion. “It’s okay,” Kushina soothed as she ran a hand through the boy’s long, mousey brown hair, “stick out your tongue.”

The tiny ninja’s eyes, made impossibly larger through his hesitant expression, darted between Kushina and Minato. After some time and coaxing, however, he tentatively stuck his tongue out at Minato.

Kaguya gasped at the black symbol on the boy’s tongue. Sesshōmaru turned to Kaede and spoke in a chilling voice. “You said that Konoha was overrun with orphans; you didn’t say the village branded them.”

“I had no idea they’d do something so cruel,” Kaede replied, astonished.

“This is highly unusual, I assure you,” Sakumo sputtered. “At least, I hope it is,” he added, under his breath.

Minato began to weave signs silently and with a solemn expression, drawing everyone’s attention. He then pressed his thumb to the boy’s tongue, who shrieked, jumped back, and covered his mouth with both hands.

“I’m sorry that hurt, but it’s the only way to remove the seal,” Minato said, heartbroken.

“Ithss s’okay,” the boy lisped his response which was further muffled by his small, pudgy hands.

“Now then, what’s your name?”

“I-I don’t know. They call me Kinoe, but I’m not sure if that’s what my parents named me before...”

The whole crowd in the parents’ section melted.

Kushina dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around the boy. She turned her head to face Minato and stared at him with wide, imploring eyes.

Minato buckled under the weight of so many pairs of pleading eyes and then sighed. “Alright, let’s go talk to Lord Third.” He pointed at Inuyasha. “You, dog demon—”

“Half-demon,” Sesshōmaru corrected.

“Whatever. Can you oversee their target practice until I get back?”

 ***

 “Gah-gah-gah, zu-bah-bah, KUNAI!”

“It’s definitely helping Obito to focus on the target, but I thought that ninja were supposed to be stealthy, aren’t they? This isn’t exactly conducive to sneaking up on an opponent,” Kaede assessed Inuyasha’s teaching techniques aloud.

Inuyasha was helping Rin improve her grip on her own kunai under Sesshōmaru’s careful watch.

Kakashi stood off to the side, attempting to channel his chakra to replicate the Wind Scar. “You can do it, Sweetie!” Kaguya called out to him, causing him to blush above his mask.

“Everyone, this is Tenzō.”

Kushina returned to the training grounds with the tiny ninja on her hip. “Hello, I have a new name,” he waved with a bright, broad grin that melted the crowd in the parents’ section all over again.

Minato followed close behind, looking a bit paler than he had when he left. “Congratulations!” Sakumo met him with a hearty handshake. “Let me guess, she named him before you reached the Hokage’s office, huh,” he added in a hushed tone.

“Yeah, Lord Third pulled out the adoption papers as soon as Kushina walked in carrying him.” Minato’s gaze drifted to his new team of Genin and their chaotic training session. “What the actual fuck is happening here?”

“You left a dog-demon in charge of their training—”

“Half-demon,” Sesshōmaru corrected.

“Inuyasha, their sensei has returned now so you can stop not helping,” Kaede instructed.

“Whaddya mean ‘not helping’?  These brats are so weak Shippo could take them—”

“Inuyasha, sit down.” Kaede revealed the depth of her authority and untold power so effectively in those three words that not only Inuyasha but all three Genin and even Sakumo sat down on the training field in absolute obedience.

“Right, next time, I’ll put you in charge,” Minato said, awed. Then he addressed his team while Sakumo did his best to seem casual as he stood up. “We’ll cut the training short today; it is your first day, after all. We’ll just consider this an orientation, and start over fresh tomorrow,” he finished.

Kakashi, Obito, and Rin cheered as they ran to receive the adoration of their respective number one fans after completing their first day as real ninjas.

“Did you see me, Granny?” Obito asked, eager for recognition.

Kaede realized it immediately and chuckled as she smoothed one hand over his spiky hair. “Yes, I did, and I think you’ll be a Ho-ka-ge in no time,” she smiled.

“Do we have to leave right away, Lord Sesshōmaru?” Rin asked as she slipped her hand into her Guardian’s.

“No,” Sesshōmaru spoke in a gentler voice when he addressed his ward, “we will stay as long as it takes for me to complete my quest for the seven swords of the Mist.”

“You can live with us while you do…that,” Kakashi stared wide-eyed at Sesshōmaru as he offered the invitation without consulting his parents. Kaguya and Sakumo exchanged a confused look behind him.

Then Kakashi reached a hand out to pet Sesshōmaru’s fluffy, white fur trim as if he couldn’t resist it any longer, but Kaguya snatched it away, and furthered distracted him by saying, “how should we celebrate your graduation to Genin?”

“Count me out,” Inuyasha turned his back to the group. “As long as we’ll be here, I’m gonna look for jewel shards. Catch you later, losers,” he yelled over his shoulder as he leaped from view.

“I’m afraid I can’t join you either,” Minato lamented. “I have to go buy everything a child would need this afternoon.” Sakumo patted him on the shoulder reassuringly as Minato waved and walked away.

Kushina, however, remained behind with the rest and shifted Tenzō to her other hip. “We could go bowling,” she considered aloud.

“Yeah!” All three Genin shouted.

“What do you think; do you want to go bowling?” Kushina asked Tenzō directly.

He gasped. “Can I really go too?” He asked, melting even Sesshōmaru’s heart this time.

“Let’s go bowling,” Kaede said in her authoritative voice as she turned and strode back to the village, with the rest of the group trailing behind her.

The End

[spn-safeandsound]

08. Julia Ruth

Safe and Sound

Dean Winchester x Original Character

Episode: 1x12; Faith

Word Count: 11,431

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence and gore, injury, a steamy scene that doesn’t get very far, protective Dean

Author’s Note: Hi there! Sorry for the weeks since I last updated but I’m here again. This chapter is when things start to change for Dean as far as his feelings toward Julia. Hope you enjoy! Don’t forget to reblog and like!

Masterlist in Profile Description!

The car was dead quiet. There was no music playing, there was no talking; the only sound that anyone could hear was the roar of the engine as Dean sped down the road to the abandoned house they had tracked the rawhead to.

Dean was the reason for the tense silence that filled the air. Well, really it was Dean and Julia but Dean was the only one still angry. Sam honestly thought his brother was overreacting but this was Baby they were talking about.

Their day started out normal. It was Julia's turn to pay for the motel, so they got connected rooms. They had breakfast, they questioned some witnesses about the disappearance of two young siblings, and then they went back to the motel to do some research. That's when things went downhill.

Dean had eaten the last of the chocolate chip cookies that Julia kept stashed away in her bag. Julia had thrown a fit when she found the empty box—it was then that Sam realized that he knew her way too well because he figured it was around the time of the month she started PMS-ing—and started an argument with Dean. Dean was never one to pass up a challenge, so he matched her tone and volume yell-for-yell.

And then Dean mentioned in passing that he saw her undergarments while looking for the cookies and it made it much worse. Sam had seen the embarrassed glint in Julia's eyes before Dean could and within the next moment, she burst into tears.

Dean had been absolutely horrified and started to apologize but Julia wasn't hurt—she was angry. She quickly went into her room and slammed the door that connected their rooms shut. When Dean had gone to the bathroom ten minutes later, she walked back into the room and stole the keys to the Impala.

Sam hadn't stopped her but he should have. He knew about the mood swings she'd get the week before her time of the month and he usually stayed out of her way but Dean was much more terrifying when it came to his precious Baby. He knew now that he'd much rather have a small ball of fury glaring at him with tears in her eyes than deal with his annoying brother when he was angry.

When Dean came out of the bathroom and saw that his keys were gone, he was livid. He waited for Julia in her room and when she got back from the gas station she drove to, with two packages of chocolate chip cookies and a tube of Pringles, the yelling started back up again—and the crying.

Sam honestly wondered how they hadn't gotten a noise complaint.

It had been hours since then and Julia had calmed down considerably. In fact, Sam would guess that she wasn't mad at all anymore, especially when she got her chocolate chip cookie fix. Dean, however, was a different story. He was still furious and was not talking to Julia whatsoever, leaving Sam to mediate. Now he knew how Julia felt whenever he and Dean argued.

Dean pulled into the driveway of the abandoned house and parked, turning off the engine. The three of them gathered at the trunk, watching as Dean dug through their arsenal to find the three tasers.

"How many volts are those turned to?" Julia asked Dean tentatively.

Dean pointedly ignored her.

Sam sighed heavily. "What do you got those amped up to?"

"A hundred thousand volts," Dean answered Sam. Julia's gaze hardened but she didn't say anything as he handed Sam the two tasers; Sam passed one of them onto her.

"Damn."

"Yeah, I want this rawhead extra-fucking-crispy," Dean grumbled as he shut the trunk. "Remember, you only get one shot with these things, so make it count."

They walked into the house and carefully searched the whole main floor before heading into the basement. They turned on their flashlights and slowly walked down the stairs, making sure to keep an eye out for the rawhead. There heard a thump come from their left and saw that it had come from a closed wardrobe.

"On three," Dean whispered to Sam as the two of them walked toward the wardrobe. "One. Two. Three."

He hurriedly opened the wardrobe, hearing a shrill squeak of fear. Julia turned around from where she was searching for the rawhead and saw that the brothers had found the little kids that had disappeared.

"Is it still here?" Sam asked them quietly; both kids nodded.

"Okay, grab your sister's hand," Dean grabbed the boy and gently pulled him to his feet. "Come on, we gotta get you out of here."

The kids scurried up the stairs with Sam on their heels and Dean and Julia watched their backs if the rawhead decided to attack them. Sam tripped as his ankle was grabbed through the staircase, causing the little girl to scream.

Sam watched as Dean whipped around the stairs and shot his taser. It surged out but hit nothing.

"Sam, get them upstairs!" Dean called to him. "Get outta here!"

"Here, take this," Sam tossed him his own taser before turning to scrambled up the rest of the stairs. He grabbed both of the kids' hands and led them out of the house. "Come on, come on."

They were safely outside when Sam heard Dean scream, "Julia!"

The desperation in his brother's voice chilled Sam's blood. He briefly told the kids to stay outside before sprinting back into the house and down the stairs to the basement. At the foot of the stairs, in a puddle of water, Dean knelt over Julia's body, desperately shaking her to wake her up.

Sam's breath left him.

"Julia!" he grunted, checking her pulse. "Come on, Jules, don't do this."

"Dean, what—?"

"Call an ambulance, Sam!"

He felt like his life was slowed down and then sped up in a second. He didn't remember calling for an ambulance, the paramedics doing CPR on Julia, or the ride to the hospital. It was like he blinked and he was suddenly in the middle of a silent waiting room, waiting for news on his best friend.

Sam hadn't been allowed to go back with Julia since he wasn't family but Dean had lied to the paramedics and told them he was her husband. While Dean stayed with Julia as the doctors ran tests on her, Sam called her family and took care of the paperwork that needed to be done while the police waited to ask him questions.

"Sir, I'm so sorry to ask," the nurse at the desk smiled sadly at him. "but your brother said you would give us Mrs. Petersen's insurance."

"Right," Sam shook his head blankly, pulling the insurance card that he took from Julia's wallet. He handed it to the nurse, along with her driver's license. "Here you go."

"Thank you, Mr. Petersen," the nurse assumed that his last name was the same as Julia's since they were told that she was married to his brother.

Sam nodded at her and turned to the police officers while she typed in Julia's information.

"Look, we can finish this up later," one of the officers suggested.

"No, no, it's okay," Sam shook his head; he wanted to get this done now. "We were just taking a shortcut through the neighborhood. The windows were rolled down, we heard some screaming when we drove past the house, and we stopped and ran in."

"And you found the kids in the basement?" the officer asked.

"Yeah."

"Well, thank God you did," the officer's partner commented

Sam looked back down the hallway when he heard the door to Julia's room open and close. A doctor walked out, holding a clipboard, and nodded at him so he could share Julia's results.

"Excuse me," he muttered to the officers.

"Sure," the officer nodded. "Thanks for your help."

Sam gave him a polite smile and turned away, walking over to the doctor. "Is she...?"

"She's resting," the doctor assured him.

"And?"

"The electrocution triggered a heart attack," the man informed him. "A pretty massive one, I'm afraid. Her heart is damaged."

Sam stiffened. "How damaged?"

"We've done all we can," he said sympathetically. "We can try and keep her comfortable at this point but I'd give her a couple of weeks. A month, at most."

"No," Sam shook his head in denial, his heart starting to race. "There's—there's gotta be something you can do, some kind of treatment."

They could put her on the transplant list, they could give her a pacemaker...they had to do something, at least. Julia could not die. His sister could not die. He would do anything in his power to make sure she stayed alive. She was the one who was supposed to plan his funeral. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

The doctor gave him a sad smile. "We can't work miracles," he mumbled. "I really am sorry."

Sam pressed his lips together and stormed away from the man. What kind of doctor wouldn't even put his patient on a heart transplant list? Didn't Julia qualify for that kind of thing? It's not like she smoked or did anything that would prevent her from being on the list.

The door to Julia's room was opened slightly and Sam could hear the low rumble of his brother's voice talking to someone. At first he thought that he was talking to Julia but then he realized that Dean was actually on the phone.

"I'm not sure what you want me to do, Beth," Dean spoke to Julia's oldest sister as Sam slipped into the room. Dean nodded at him and started again, reacting to whatever Beth told him, "No, a few weeks...he didn't say anything about a list, no... I can't exactly move her, Beth. She wouldn't make a drive back home, it's fourteen hours."

As Dean continued speaking with Beth, Sam observed his best friend. Julia was still asleep and the hospital bed made her look so damn small. Her brown hair was pulled up into a messy bun at the top of her head, an oxygen mask placed over her mouth and nose, and dark circles stood out against her pale face under her eyes. There was a burn on her left cheek and at the top of her left arm, there was a bandage; Sam remembered that she had a few burns from where the volts left her body. He had never seen her look so sick.

"We're in Cheyanne, Wyoming," Dean told Beth.

Dean sounded as tired as Julia looked. His voice was dull and thick, as if he had a frog in his throat. The tip of his nose was red and so were the rims of his eyes. Sam had realized that Dean had been crying and it made his own throat tighten with emotion.

When he saw that Dean's, fingers were wrapped firmly around Julia's right hand where it rested on the hospital bed, tears came to his eyes.

God, he thought to himself, this couldn't be happening.

"Okay, I'll keep you updated," Dean confirmed into the phone. "Talk to you later, Beth."

He snapped the phone shut and stayed silent as he set it down and picked up the TV remote. He unmuted the volume and flipped through the channels, all the while keeping his hand around Julia's and his eyes on the TV.

"Have you ever actually watched daytime TV?" he asked Sam.

Sam sighed heavily. "I talked to J's doctor..."

"That fabric softener teddy bear," Dean narrowed his eyes at the commercial before flipping to a different channel as he avoided the conversation Sam was trying to have with him. "Oh, I'm gonna hunt that little bitch down."

"Dean."

Dean pressed the power button on the remote, shutting the TV off before looking at Sam. "Abby's on her way here," he informed him. "She's gonna stay with Julia while we head off."

"What are you talking about?" Sam furrowed his eyebrows in disbelief. "We're not leaving without Julia, Dean."

"I don't want to leave her, either, Sammy, but..." Dean trailed off and pressed his lips together to hide the emotion that Sam saw brewing in his eyes. "...there's nothing we can do for her."

"No, she's not gonna die, okay?" Sam quickly got defensive. "I'll—I'll find a way to save her. I'll look into every option."

"Sam, the doctors—"

"The doctors don't know the things we do, Dean!" he interrupted his brother.

"And what if you can't find anything, huh?" Dean's voice raised in frustration, his fingers tightening around Julia's hand.

"Then I'm staying with her until the end," Sam's firm statement made Dean pause and lower his eyes.

Dean's vision blurred as he stared at the periwinkle polish on Julia's fingernails. She had been so damn excited to find that color that she blabbed about it for almost an hour before Dean tuned her out by turning up the volume of his music. He wished he hadn't done that. He'd listen to her talk about periwinkle nail polish for days if it meant that she'd be okay.

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat. "We'll stay with her, then," he said quietly, his wet eyes flickering up to meet's Sam's equally sad ones. "and we'll try to find something."

Sam nodded, glad that his brother agreed with him. He sat down on Julia's other side and took her hand, careful not to dislodge her IV. An hour later, when the nurse told them that visiting hours were over, he pretended he didn't see Dean kiss Julia on the forehead before they left.

-

The field was full of four kinds of flowers this time. Different ones than before; yellow ones on her left, pink ones in front of her, yellow Tulips on her right, and blue behind her. It was the different meanings of the flowers that struck Julia as odd, rather than the amount

Goldenrods for encouragement. Blue salvia for thinking of someone. Yellow tulips for sunshine. Peonies for healing.

Three of them were flowers that you'd find in a hospital giftshop. Ones you'd pick up on your way to visit a loved on in the hospital. When Naomi was in the hospital, Julia would always bring her yellow tulips instead of the bouquets in the gift shop because her mom's smile lit up the room like sunshine.

It was comforting to see the tulips even when she knew something was wrong.

"Julia Ruth."

Julia looked away from the yellow tulips and saw the beam of sun in front of her. Even with the sun hitting the grass a few feet in front of her, the sky around it was dark and stormy. She could see flashes of lightning here and there and rumbles of thunder in the distance.

"What's happening?" she whispered shakily.

She was scared. The last dream of her angel she had like this was the night after her mom died. At that time, she was surrounded only by yellow tulips and an almost black sky. She had taken a look at the flowers around her and started to bawl. Her angel was there to comfort her.

"What's wrong?"

Was it Sam or Dean? Levi, Beth, or Abby? Her dad? Lydia or Taylor? Who was hurt? Who was dying?

"You're in the hospital," the angel told her.

Julia paled in realization. The peonies, the healing. She was relieved, though, that it was her instead of one of her loved ones.

"You were injured on a hunt. You had a heart attack from the electricity that flowed through your body."

She remembered a little. She had shot the taser at the rawhead as it lunged at Dean. The rawhead lit up like a firework and she heard Dean scream her name but that was all she could recall.

A heart attack at twenty years old. Who would have thought? She always knew that hunting was dangerous and she was mostly likely to die at a young age due to her new lifestyle but it was too soon. She'd only been hunting for seven months.

She sure did draw the short straw, huh?

Julia looked back at the dark gray sky. "I'm dying, aren't I?"

She didn't feel as sad as she thought she would. She knew that Heaven awaited her once she passed and she'd be in paradise. It was her loved ones she felt sad for. Beth, Abby, and Levi would lose their little sister only four years after their mother. Her dad would lose his baby girl, her niece an aunt. And Sam and Dean...with their dad gone, all they had left was each other and her.

Maybe that's why most people were afraid of dying, she mused to herself. Because they know that their death really only affects the people they leave behind.

"You're not dying," her angel proclaimed. "Not today, not from this."

As he finished speaking, Julia's hand went to her forehead where there was a sudden pressure and a jolt of energy that came out of nowhere. She waited to feel it again but the sensation was long gone.

"Julia Ruth."

She hadn't realized that she had zoned out, thinking of the strange sensation on her skin.

She focused back on the sun beam. "Are you here to take me to Heaven?"

"No," her angel said simply. "You are Chosen for a reason."

"What?" Julia wrinkled her nose, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"When you wake, there will be a solution," her angel declared. "We will meet again soon."

-

On the numbered oak door in front of him was a large light-blue sign shaped like a dinosaur skull, a familiar name cut out in the bottom. JONAH. Dean stared at it, perplexed, before looking around at the unfamiliar hallway he was standing in.

The floors were made of white linoleum tiles and the walls were painted a light gray with subway tiles covering the bottom half of them. There were industrial sconces in between the numerous doors that lined the hall. He had no idea where he was. He had never been there before.

Dean turned back to the dinosaur door and cautiously opened it. He slowly stepped into the room, looking around in shock.

It was a nursery. Two of the walls were painted light green, one was the same blue as the sign on the door, and one was covered in a wallpaper with dark blue dinosaurs. The white tiles were covered in a light green area rug with the same blue dinosaurs as the wallpaper. Toys were neatly organized in a toy box in the far-left corner with a rocking chair and a bookshelf next to it. Against the dinosaur wall was a white crib with JONAH painted above it in dark green. On the wall across from the crib was a white changing table that doubled as a dresser.

Why the hell was he in a nursery? What was this place?

A soft cooing noise came from Jonah's crib, startling Dean. He cautiously walked over to it, his eyes widening when he saw that there was an actual baby laying inside of it. Wearing a onesie with a black car on the front, the baby smiled up at him, making a happy noise.

Dean had to admit that Jonah was a cute baby. He had a head full of dark brown hair. His eyes were hazel and his dimples...they were the Winchester dimples. The ones that his dad and Sam shared. A shocked noise came from the back of Dean's throat as the baby wiggled around in the crib, kicking his feet excitedly. Was Jonah his son? Who the hell would he have a son with?

Jonah's face fell when Dean continued to stare down at him in shock. He opened his mouth—his nose wrinkling with a familiarity that Dean couldn't recall—but Dean moved before he could let out a cry.

"Shh..." he cooed to the baby. "It's okay, Daddy's here."

Where the fuck did that come from?

"You gotta be a man about sleeping in your crib, all right?" Dean apparently had no control over his mouth. "You're getting too big to sleep with me and your momma."

Jonah's face smoothed out, happy with the attention his dad was giving him. "Da."

Dean didn't know why but his heart soared with happiness. "Yeah, bud," he smiled down at his son. "I'm your dad."

Jonah fidgeted, one of his curled fists resting against his dimpled cheek. He smiled again and, this time, Dean saw a couple of new teeth popping out of his pink gums.

"If you sleep through the whole night, I'll give you five bucks," Dean dared him. "Can you do that for me and Momma?"

Jonah hummed and Dean grinned. "Good," he answered, satisfied. "Love you, Jonah. Goodnight."

He reached up and turned the mobile over the crib on. Jonah was instantly enraptured by the rotating stuffed dinosaurs, his green eyes lighting up. Dean began to leave the room, switching on the lamp on the changing table, and turning off the overhead light. He took one more look at the nursery before closing the door.

Across from Jonah's door was another room. On the door of number fifteen, there was a sign just like Jonah and Levi's, except it was a red truck with another familiar name carved out in the bottom.

PETER

Maybe this kid was Sam's. Dean opened the door and peeked into the room. It wasn't a nursery like Jonah's room but it still was a kid's room. The light was on already, showcasing the construction theme. The little twin bed was covered in sheets and a comforter with tractors, dump trucks, and cranes all red, yellow, or blue. The walls were a light blue.

On one wall, PETER was spelt out in large red letters. A toy chest was underneath it, along with a dresser and a bookshelf. On the wall across from that was a desk. And on the floor in the middle of an area rug that was designed like a highway, was a freckled blonde toddler wearing pajama pants with lions on them. He wore no shirt and he was playing with Lego set.

"Pete, where's your shirt?" again, Dean didn't know why he was saying anything.

Peter looked up with wide green eyes, identical to Dean's. "Hi, Daddy," he looked very guilty and Dean was instantly suspicious. "Whatcha doing?"

"You're supposed to be bed, buddy," Dean walked over to him and bent down, easily swinging him up into his arms. "Where'd you put your shirt?"

"Momma said I didn't have to wear one," Peter declared innocently before placing a hand on Dean's left cheek. "Are you okay, Daddy?"

"Course I am," Dean assured him; Peter smiled widely, showing off a dimple in his left cheek.

The famous Petersen dimple.

If Dean had any control over his body whatsoever, he might have dropped Peter in realization. He knew three women with those Petersen dimples and one of them was already married with a kid.

So, who did he knock up? Julia or Abby?

As if the universe was answering him, Julia stepped into the room—looking pale, exhausted, and older than her twenty-year-old self—and gave both boys a stern look.

"Peter Samuel, you're supposed to be in bed," she scolded him, placing her hands against her t-shirt clad hips.

And, God, if Dean didn't find that sexy. He'd seen Julia's mom-mode several times before but never had it made him hard like it did now. Was this what happened when you had kids? You get turned on by good parenting?

"Did you say he could sleep without a shirt?" Dean found himself asking her, ignoring the start of his erection in his sweatpants.

Julia rolled her eyes playfully and walked over to them. "Yes," she tickled Peter's bare stomach, making the toddler squeal in delight. "He takes them off anyway. Don't you, sunshine?"

Peter laughed, pushing her manicured hands away from his stomach. "Momma, no!"

Dean's heart soared again and suddenly he was wishing this was real. That he and Julia were together and raising two sons. Two beautiful sons that seemed like great kids. Sons that he already loved with all of his heart.

If this was a dream, Dean didn't want to wake up.

Julia stopped tickling Peter and kissed the boy on the forehead. "You gotta go to sleep or we're not having blueberry pancakes tomorrow."

"No!" Peter whined. "I want them."

"Go to sleep then," Julia dared him with a raised eyebrow. "You know, I heard your dad tell Jonah that he's giving away money to sleep through the night."

"What?"

"Mmhm," Dean hummed. "I guess your brother is gonna have more money in his piggy bank than you..."

"No!" Peter wiggled his legs against Dean's chest, struggling to get down. Dean set him on the floor and he sprinted to his bed. "Okay, I'm sleeping now."

Dean laughed and grabbed Julia's hand, intertwining their fingers. "All right, hotshot. Goodnight."

"Night," Peter chirped, pulling his comforter up to his chin and giving his parents a dimpled smile. "Love you."

"Love you, too, Pete."

"Love you, Peter," Julia promised. "Don't forget that the angels are watching over you."

"Yes, they are!"

Dean and Julia left the room, after turning out the light, and walked down the hallway. Despite the casual way he walked by Julia's side, he was in turmoil. His mom had told him that all the time when he was a kid. The fact that Julia used that same phrase for their son made love swell within his stomach.

God, he wished this was real.

Dean and Julia stopped at room eleven and entered. There were records displayed on one wall, family pictures on the other, and above the king-sized bed was a picture of Dean and Julia of what looked to be their wedding day.

Holy fuck, he married Julia. Since when was he a marriage guy?

"Did you talk to Sam before he went to bed?" Julia asked him, shimmying off the pajama shorts she had been wearing.

"Yeah," Dean answered as he pulled off his shirt.

"And?"

"And he's still feeling a little off," Dean shrugged and then stepped out of his sweatpants. "How are you feeling?"

She sighed tiredly and Dean felt a wave of worry falling over him. "I'm tired and my bones ache a little."

Dean raised his eyebrow. "That's it? I heard you coughing earlier."

"I'll get better, Dean," she assured him, walking over to him and lovingly placing a hand on his cheek. "I was made for this."

Dean grabbed her hand, intertwined their fingers, and bowed his head, his nose grazing against her dimpled cheek. "You were made for me."

What the hell were they even talking about? What was he talking about?

"Yeah, I was," Julia smiled softly and pulled away, looking at him with bloodshot hazel eyes. "Now, are we going to keep talking or are you gonna put me to bed because you look very sexy right now."

Dean chuckled, feeling his cock start to grow once again. "It's because I'm wearing sweatpants, isn't it?"

"It's the sweatpants," she confirmed jokingly.

"Well," Dean kissed her forehead, then her nose, her chin, and then back up to her lips. "Whatever my baby needs," he pressed his hips into her stomach. "What are you thinking tonight?"

Julia sighed against his cheek, her lips trailing across his jaw. "Whatever you want. I just want you."

Dean moaned and reached down to grab her ass, roughly pulling her closer to him. Jesus Christ, he wanted her so bad. He was so hard that he had to remind himself that this was definitely a dream and this was not really him and Julia at all.

Julia's face was overcome with desire and, with a soft moan, she pushed Dean back onto the bed. Dean grinned as she climbed on top of him, straddling his lap and...

"Dean, would you wake up?"

Dean jumped up at Sam's voice, his eyes shooting open.

No, no, no, he thought frantically, seeing that he was back in the motel room in Wyoming. There was no bedroom, there was no Julia, and there were no Peter and Jonah.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes to stop them from filling with tears. That dream...it was a future he wanted to have. An apple-pie life with a couple of kids and his brother at his side. And Julia...she was his wife. His chest filled with grief and longing when he thought about her and those boys.

Julia was dying. She'd never get that life, either.

Sam gave him a weird look. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded and rolled out of bed; it was seven in the morning and Sam was already at his laptop, doing intense research to find something to heal Julia. "Find anything yet?"

He remembered doing his own research before he went to bed. He found nothing that would be able to help Julia. It frustrated the hell out of him and scared him, too. Maybe that's why he had that dream...He wanted Julia healthy and to live a long life and his head manifested a little family for them.

Yeah, that's what it was.

"I'm looking into something right now," Sam informed him; Dean raised a curious eyebrow. "Abby called and said something about a specialist in Nebraska."

"Like a heart specialist?" Dean wondered; Sam nodded slowly. "Hmm. Well, is Abby almost here yet?"

"I talked to her an hour ago. She said she was only a hundred or so miles away," Sam said. "She's coming from Bobby's place."

Bobby. Dean hadn't seen Bobby Singer in years. Bobby was a family friend that he and Sam stayed with some over the years but when he and John had a falling out, Dean hadn't seen him since. He missed the hell out of that cranky bastard. He was wicked smart and the father figure he should have had in his life.

"Hey," Sam got his attention when his thoughts trailed off. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," Dean shook his head to focus. "I'm just, um, I'm worried about Jules."

Sam sighed and stood up, grabbing a white box off the table and bringing it over to Dean. "Me too," he smiled sympathetically before going back to his seat at the table. "Hey...I was thinking that maybe you should call Dad and Luke."

"Why?" Dean scoffed as he opened the box, smiling slightly when he saw the chocolate glazed doughnuts inside. "Neither of them are gonna answer. In her last call, Beth very angrily told me that her dad wasn't answering any of their calls."

"That's what Abby said, too," Sam sighed, leaning back in his chair. "But I think you should try them, anyway. For Julia."

Well, when he put it like that, Dean couldn't refuse. He'd do anything for that stubborn little shortcake.

He called Luke first and wasn't surprised to get his voicemail. "This is Luke Alexander and I am currently unavailable. If this is an emergency, call my daughter, Abby. 630-754-9296. She can help."

Dean scoffed as he ended the call, not bothering to leave a message. His voicemail recording was nearly identical to John's, who didn't pick up, either.

"This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 866-907-3235. He can help."

"Hey, Dad, it's Dean," he couldn't help but leave a message for his dad. "I know you probably won't get this but me and Sam need help. It's Julia, Dad. She's really sick and the doctors are saying she's not gonna make it," he sniffed and turned away from Sam, who was watching him carefully. "We're gonna save her, though. Sam, Abby, and I are gonna find something. So, if Luke's with you, you should tell him that she's gonna be okay...All right, just wanted you to know."

As Dean snapped his phone shut and tossed it on his bed, there was a knock on the door. Sam and Dean gave it hesitant looks for a few seconds and there was another knock before Sam got up to open the door.

Abby Petersen's beautiful smile greeted them, her family's signature dimple popping out. It made Dean's heart ache as he remembered Peter's smile.

God, I'm heartbroken over a couple of kids who don't even exist, Dean grumbled mentally.

"Long time no see, Sam. Aren't you all grown up," Abby commented, her eyes sliding up and down Sam's body. Dean grinned at Sam as his cheeks flushed at the down-to-fuck eyes Abby was flashing him.

"God, Abby, it's raining and I'm cold so if you could stop flirting, that'd be great," to Dean and Sam's surprise, Julia appeared behind her older and much taller sister, a disgruntled look on her face.

"Yeah, yeah," Abby rolled her eyes and wrapped her arm around her sister, helping her into the room. Sam took over for her and practically took all of Julia's weight without a problem as Abby shut the door behind them.

"You're supposed to be in the hospital," Dean couldn't help but scold her as he helped Sam sit her down in an empty chair by the table. "What are you doing here?"

"What, are you talking to me now?" Julia grunted in pain as she settled, pulling the hood from her head. She looked worse than the day before; her eyes were darker and there was a large red mark on the left side of her face.

Dean pressed his lips together at her remark, his lips turning down guiltily. He felt so horrible about the way he treated her before and even during the hunt. He felt responsible for what happened; she saved him from the rawhead and he repaid her by not watching her carefully enough. He always hated feeling guilty—it made his stomach hurt. That was the reason why he apologized so quickly when he yelled at Sam or Julia in particular.

"Julia."

Julia grumbled at the warning Abby gave her and answered Dean's original question. "Hospitals freak me out."

Dean's face softened; he grabbed the blanket from his bed and laid it over her lap. It was so strange to see her all bundled up. Usually she ran hot and more often than not, was pushing a blanket away from her. It was kind of lucky, though, since Sam was a cover-hog—so was Dean for that matter.

"Thanks," Julia whispered with a small smile before looking back and forth at the brothers. "Have you guys even slept? You look worse than me."

Dean avoided her eyes as he went to sit on the foot of his bed. Abby joined him, grabbing one of the doughnuts from the box he had forgotten about. As he grabbed the other one, he mumbled, "Had a bad dream."

The only thing bad about that dream was the fact he wasn't in it right now.

"I've been scouring the internet the last twelve hours," Sam informed her, sitting back down in his seat at the table. "And we called every contact in our dad's journal."

Julia gave him a tired yet curious look. "For what?"

"For a way to help you," Abby spoke up before looking over at Sam. "Did you look up that fa—"

"The specialist?" Sam cut her off suspiciously. "Yeah, I did. He's in Gering, Nebraska. Only an hour or two away from here. We should get going, actually..."

"Woah, woah, woah," Julia shook her head weakly. "I don't want to do tests and I don't want to be poked and prodded. Can't a girl die in peace?"

"You're not dying," Dean said gruffly; all eyes turned at him in shock but he stood up and started repacking his bag. "Come on. We're on the road in ten."

-

Dean glared at the tent that he and Sam had driven up to. A large sign was declaring that the preacher, Roy LeGrange, was a faith healer...not a heart specialist like Sam led him to believe. It was bullshit—there were no such thing as a faith healer or miracles like the sign was promising.

"Man, you are a lying bastard," Dean glared at Sam as Abby's Jeep Liberty pulled up in the mud beside the Impala. "You said we were going to see a doctor."

"I said specialist, Dean," Sam corrected him. "It's not my fault you assumed it was a doctor."

Dean rolled his eyes in disbelief.

"Besides," Sam added. "I think Julia would be more comfortable here. She's doesn't like hospitals, especially since—"

"Since Naomi, I know," Dean grumbled, ignoring the thoughtful smile on Sam's face.

He got out of the car and went straight to Julia's side of Abby's Jeep, opening the door for her. To his surprise, and Sam's immense shock, Julia didn't look happy to be here, either.

Sam's face fell. "You don't like faith healers, either?"

"Oh, God, don't," Abby warned them as she came around the Jeep, walking carefully in the thick mud. "She started complaining as soon as she saw that sign."

"Faith healers aren't real!" Julia exclaimed as strongly as she could. "The only person who could heal by faith was Jesus and I doubt that he would go by the name of Roy if he came back already."

Dean snickered as he wrapped an arm around her waist, helping her get down from her seat. He continued to hold onto her when her feet were planting on the ground, knowing that she would need some help to the tent. She was kind of clumsy already but if mud was in the picture, she was done for.

"And I just cleaned these," Julia pouted down at her white converse.

"I'll get you new ones," Sam promised as the four of them started walking toward the tent. "Look, J, this guy is supposed to be the real deal."

"Yeah, I'm sure," Julia muttered bitterly.

An old lady heard her comment. "Reverend LeGrange is a great man," she said indignantly.

"Yeah, keep walking, lady," Dean snapped at her as he helped Julia past a protester, who was complaining about the reverend cheating people out of money, and the cop who was dealing with him. "I take it he's not part of the flock."

"When people see something they can't explain, there's controversy," Sam shrugged.

"Come on, Sam, a faith healer?" even Julia didn't want to do this. It was just something that she thought wasn't real. People took advantage of religious phrases sometimes and faith healers were one of those. They used the faith of naïve people to fatten their wallets.

"Jules, Elijah and Paul healed people in the Bible," Abby pointed out.

Julia shook her head. "Those instances were metaphorical," she disagreed. "They didn't physically heal anyone. They healed them spiritually."

"I don't understand," Sam shook his head at her as they got nearer to the tent. "You believe in God and you're a practicing Christian. Why don't you have faith?"

"I do have faith," she snapped at him; it was like Sam wasn't listening to her. "I have faith in God. The fact that I'm actually alive is an example of God's grace, okay? Just because I don't believe in faith healers, doesn't mean that I—"

"Maybe God works through the faith healers," a blonde girl interrupted Julia, giving the four of them a sweet smile. "Fills them with the Holy Spirit like he did with Jesus."

"Interesting thought," Julia humored her. If that's what the girl wanted to believe, fine. She was an absolute stranger and Julia wasn't the type of person to rag on beliefs that were different than hers. The only reason she was having trouble with Sam was because he was only hoping that this guy would magically heal her.

Quite honestly, she thought that Abby and Sam were in denial about the fact that she was going to die. The only reason she got out of the car was because she didn't want to upset them. She wanted to make the transition of her death easier on them, so she'd go along for now.

"I'm Julia," she introduced herself to the girl and then gestured to the others. "This is my sister, Abby, and that's Sam and Dean."

"Layla," she replied kindly. "and I think you'll be surprised by Reverend LeGrange. God works in mysterious ways, you know."

"True," Julia conceded.

"I better get in there," Layla nodded toward the tent as an older lady walked up to her side. "It's starting soon."

As Layla and the older woman walked into the tent together, Dean muttered, "I bet she works in mysterious ways...Ouch, what the fuck, Abby?"

Julia winced at the dirty looks some people in line were giving them. She turned to Dean and Abby, who had whacked him in the back of his head at his nasty comment, and glared.

"We're at a place of worship," she reminded him through gritted teeth.

Dean had the courtesy to look sheepish. "Sorry."

Julia, Dean, Sam, and Abby entered the tent, the latter two looking for seats in the front so Julia would have a better chance of getting picked by the reverend. Dean's eyes wandered around the tent, scoffing when he saw the camera set up in the corner.

"Yeah, peace, love, and trust all over," he muttered bitterly.

Sam ignored him, as did Julia and Abby, and gestured toward the front of the tent. "Come on."

He grabbed Julia away from Dean's grasp and helped her walk up the aisle to the second row. There just happened to be only three empty seats, so Dean was forced to sit his skeptical ass down in a row toward the back. He and Abby made Julia sit in the aisle seat right behind Layla and her mother.

An old man was led onto the stage, dressed in a nice suit and dark glasses. He was blind but it didn't mean he was helpless. As his wife took a seat at the piano and started to play a welcoming tune, Reverend LeGrange faced the crowd with a kind smile.

"Each morning, my wife, Sue Ann, reads me the news," Roy started his sermon. "Never seems good, does it?"

There was a murmur of agreement from the crowd.

"Seems like there's always someone committing some immoral, unspeakable act," Roy continued as Julia eyed the strange crosses on the table behind him. There was one in particular that she didn't like the look of—it didn't look like anything she had seen before.

"But I say to you, God is watching!"

"Yes, he is," someone murmured from the row behind them.

"God rewards the good and he punishes the corrupt," the crowd hummed again and Roy went on, "It is the Lord who does the healing here, friends. The Lord who guides me in choosing who to heal by helping me see into people's hearts."

"Amen, amen!"

"And today, the Lord is guiding me to one heart in particular," Roy announced. "the young lady in the second row, here."

Julia looked away from the strange cross she was trying to place and over to Reverend LeGrange. Abby was nudging her arm excitedly and Sam looked ecstatic that the reverend picked her.

"What's your name, young lady?" Roy asked as Sue Ann stood from the piano.

Julia cleared her throat. "Julia."

"Julia Ruth," Roy stated and her eyes widened in absolute shock. How he would know her middle name was beyond her. Maybe she was wrong about faith healers after all. Maybe Layla had been right. "Julia, I want you to come up here with me."

The congregation started cheering at the reverend's announcement. Julia hesitated. What made her so special that she would be healed before the others in this tent? It didn't feel right.

"I, uh—"

"You came here to be healed, didn't you?" Roy asked expectantly as Sue Ann moved to the middle of the stage to usher Julia to him.

As Abby nudged her harshly, she said, "Yes."

The crowd cheered again, clapping enthusiastically.

"The Lord has chosen you, Julia Ruth," Roy told her.

Chosen. Hadn't she heard that recently?

Sam leaned around Abby to hiss at her, "Get up there."

Julia slowly got up from her chair and walked up to the stage. She didn't know what was going to happen or if she was actually going to be healed but she had to try, at least. She owed it to her loved ones to try.

Sue Ann grabbed her hand as she got to the steps and helped her onto the stage. She made sure she was right where Roy could reach her.

"You ready?" Roy asked her quietly.

"I-I'm nervous," she hesitated, stammering slightly.

"There's no need to be, Julia Ruth," Roy assured her before turning back to the congregation. "Pray with me, friends."

Julia bowered her head to pray as Roy placed his hand on her shoulder. The energy she was reading off of him was nice and pure-intentioned but there was something around the tent that didn't feel right.

She silently prayed to God and her guardian angel, apologizing for not having faith in her bad times like her mother always told her to. She then pleaded for this to work because she couldn't stand to see the sad faces that Sam, Abby, and Dean would give her if it didn't.

"All right, now," Roy whispered. "All right, now."

The hand on her shoulder slid up to the side of her face, right over the bruise on her cheek. Almost immediately, her heart started to race and her knees weakened. Her body broke out into a cold sweat and her vision blurred as she fell to her knees on the stage.

She could hear murmurs from the crowd but she couldn't really focus on them. A weird feeling came over her the more Roy prayed to heal her. It felt cold; it felt like death.

Her vision went black and it was only a minutes later that she woke up. She had passed out on stage, causing Sam, Dean, and Abby to rush up to her to make sure she was all right.

Dean and Abby were asking her something but she couldn't hear what it was. There was buzzing in her ears and her blurry eyes focused above their shoulders where a man stood. As her vision cleared, she saw that he wasn't really a man. He looked more like a spirit—and he was the one giving off the cold energy.

And then the man disappeared.

-

"Abby, I don't feel right," Julia confessed to her sister as they waited for the doctor to come in with her results.

"What?" Abby gave her an alarmed look as she walked over to the bed she was sitting on. "I thought you said you feel okay?"

"I feel fine, that's the problem," Julia sighed.

Something wasn't right about that man that she saw. And, according to Dean, who she asked when they went to get dinner for everyone the previous night, he didn't see a man behind Roy at all. Everything just seemed suspicious to her. It didn't feel right.

"What do you mean?"

"I—"

Before Julia could tell Abby what was wrong, the doctor walked into the exam room. She held a file in her hands, flipping through the results of the tests she had taken to make sure everything was all right with her heart.

"Well, according to all your tests, there's nothing wrong with your heart," the woman told her with a smile. "No sign there ever was—not that a woman your age should be having heart trouble..." her smile fell slightly. "but I've seen heart issues in patients your age before. It's strange..."

"What is?" Abby asked, furrowed her eyebrows.

"Just yesterday, a young guy in his twenties and athletic had a heart attack," the doctor informed them. "Out of nowhere. No previous issues."

Julia was silent for almost the whole way back to the motel, ignoring Abby's tries for conversation. The only reason she spoke was to call Beth and then Levi to inform them that her heart was better. When they got back, Julia went straight to the room she was sharing with her sister, allowing Abby to share the news with Sam and Dean.

She curled up on her bed, facing the bathroom and pulling her blanket up over her head. She felt horrible, absolutely horrible—and it wasn't physically. She honestly did not think it was a coincidence that the same day her heart condition was healed, someone dropped dead in town with the same thing. That didn't occur naturally.

Something was off about this whole faith healing thing and she was pretty sure that it started with the man she had seen behind Roy after he healed her.

"Julia," Sam entered the room; Julia didn't take the blanket off her bed. "How are you feeling?"

She grunted in response, making him sigh.

"Maybe it was a coincidence about the guy, J," he offered. "I mean, people's hearts give out all the time."

"No, they don't, Sam," Julia grumbled.

"I don't understand why we have to look this one in the mouth," Sam grew frustrated. "Why can't we just be thankful that the guy saved your life and move on?"

Julia rolled her eyes, annoyed. "Just go away, Sam!"

Sam sighed dramatically and she heard him say something to Abby and Dean that he couldn't through to her. She wondered who would come in next—Abby or Dean? She assumed it would be Abby because even though she didn't like the sappy or touchy-feely thing, she was better at it than Dean.

It wasn't Abby who came in and ripped the blanket off of her.

"Dean!" she huffed when she looked up and saw him standing above her, slipped into the small amount of space between the bed and the outside of the bathroom. "Stop."

"I don't think so, shortcake."

Julia angrily pursed her lips and flipped over, stubbornly facing the other direction. Dean scoffed—whether it was from amusement or frustration, she didn't know—and literally climbed over her onto the side she was facing. He rearranged himself so he was on his side, facing her.

She could see every freckle on his stupid attractive face. She hated to admit it because she wanted to be angry that this had happened but just the sight of him calmed her down. It wasn't fair.

"Tell me what's going on with you, Junior."

"That feeling I had..."

"The one you told me about last night?" Dean recalled. "The cold energy or whatever behind Roy."

Julia nodded, kinda touched that he listened to her ramble on and on. "Dean, it can't be a coincidence about that guy."

"Sam said he didn't see anything."

"Well, he doesn't have the same abilities I do, does he?" she got defensive.

"Hey," Dean gave her a stern look that had her quieting down. "I'm on your side, shortcake. If you saw something, I believe you."

Julia smiled and reached out, poking the cleft of his chin; Dean's eyes widened in response and but he didn't look uncomfortable. "Thanks, D."

"So, what do you want to do?" Dean asked her. "You wanna go visit the reverend?"

"Do you think it would help?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah and I can get Sammy and Abby to look into the guy's death, okay?"

"What are you gonna do?"

"I'm gonna go with you, of course."

-

"So, how are you feeling, Julia Ruth?" Roy asked Julia as she and Dean sat in the seats that Sue Ann offered them in his office.

She wished she knew how he knew that name. The only other person who called her by her first and middle name—other than her parents or siblings when she did something bad—was her guardian angel.

"I'm better," Julia gave Sue Ann a grateful smile as she passed her a glass of sweet tea. "Um, actually, I was wondering if you could answer some questions I have."

"She has this thing where she'll do anything to learn what she can't understand," Dean added as he was passed a glass of sweet tea, too. "She wants to make sense of what happened."

"A miracle is what happened," Sue Ann smiled as she sat in the chair next to Roy. "Miracles come so often around Roy."

Julia smiled, feeling awkward as Roy continued to face her like he was studying her in some way. She knew he was blind but if he knew her middle name, what else could he know about her. "Looks like it."

"When did they start?" Dean asked Roy. "The miracles."

"Woke up one morning, stone blind," Roy shared. "Doctors figured out I had cancer. Told me I had maybe a month. So, uh..." he paused. "we prayed for a miracle. I was weak but I told Sue Ann, you just keep on praying."

"My mom used to say that you had to faith in the bad times to see the good times," Julia commented with a fond smile.

Roy grinned. "First Peter, chapter four, verse thirteen: But rejoice in as much you participate in the sufferings of Christ so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed."

Julia nodded. "Or Romans, chapter five, verse three: Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings because we know that suffering produces perseverance."

"You know your stuff, Julia Ruth," Roy said, impressed. Sue Ann beamed at her as he continued the story about the beginnings of his miracles. "So, anyway, I went into a coma and the doctors said I wouldn't wake up. But I did and the cancer was gone. If it wasn't for these eyes—" he took off his glasses to showcase his dazed eyes. "—no one would believe I ever had it."

"And suddenly you could heal people?" Dean spoke up.

"I discovered it afterward, yes," Roy confirmed as he put his glasses back on. "God's blessed me in many ways."

"His flock just swelled overnight," Sue Ann seemed more concern with Roy's popularity than the so-called miracles. "and this is just the beginning."

Dean nodded slowly, giving Sue Ann a suspicious look.

"Can I ask you a couple more questions?"

"Of course you can," Roy said pleasantly.

"Why did you pick me?" Julia wondered quietly. "Out of all the other sick people, why save me?"

Roy was quiet for a few seconds as he gathered his thoughts. "I knew that you were coming this morning, Julia Ruth," he finally said. "I just woke up and knew that you were gonna be in my tent today and the Lord wanted me to use my power to heal you."

Julia blanched, her eyes widening in shock.

"And when the Lord guided me to look into your heart, I could see why," Roy continued. "You have an important purpose in this life—a job to do that isn't finished. I see the same thing in you, too, Dean."

Dean wasn't expecting that. "You do?"

"Of course, I do," Roy confirmed. "Now, what was your other question, sweetheart?"

"I was wondering how you knew my middle name was Ruth."

"Well, like before I just knew," Roy answered. "God works in mysterious ways."

"Yes, he does," Julia nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you so much for your time."

Sue Ann escorted them out of the house, asking about her biblical knowledge as they went. Julia was just explaining that she was graduating with a double major of religion and linguistics when stepped out onto the porch and Layla and her mother happened be walking up the steps at the same time.

"Dean, Julia, hey," Layla greeted them kindly. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel better," Julia forced a smile, still feeling very conflicted about the whole thing.

"What are you doing here?" Dean asked the blonde curiously.

Layla hesitated. "You know, my mom," she explained as her mother stepped past Julia and Dean to talk to Sue Ann. "She wanted to talk to the reverend."

"Layla!" Sue Ann called for the younger blonde.

"Yes," Layla joined her mother on the higher steps. "I'm here again."

"Well, I'm sorry, but Roy is resting," Sue Ann said apologetically. "He won't be seeing anyone else right now."

"Sue Ann, please," Layla's mother begged. "This is our sixth time, he's got to see us."

"Roy is well aware of Layla's situation," Sue Ann began patiently. "and he very much wants to help just as soon as the Lord allows. Have faith, Mrs. Rourke."

Sue Ann gave her one last smile and placed a supporting hand on Layla's shoulder because walking back into her house. Mrs. Rourke turned around to walk back down the steps, looking very disgruntled.

"Why are you still even here?" Mrs. Rourke asked, glaring at Julia. "You got what you wanted."

"Hey," Dean warned her at the same time as Layla sighed, "Mom, stop."

"No, Layla, this is too much," Mrs. Rourke snapped at her daughter. "We've been to every single service. If Roy would stop choosing these strangers—" she glared at Julia. "—over you... I just can't pray any harder."

Julia frowned, looking over at Layla in concern. "Layla, what's wrong?"

Layla inhaled sharply. "I have this thing..."

"It's a brain tumor," Mrs. Rourke elaborated when she paused. "It's inoperable. In six months, the doctors say—"

Layla cut her mother off, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Layla assured her.

"No, it isn't," Mrs. Rourke denied, turning back to Julia. "Why do you deserve to live more than my daughter?"

Julia couldn't help but wonder the same thing.

-

"You're not thinking about what Layla's mom said, right?"

Julia didn't reply to Dean right away, keeping her forehead pressed against the passenger window. How could she not think about what Mrs. Rourke said? It was a valid question, especially since her daughter was only supposed to live for six more months. Julia's life wasn't any more important than Layla's.

"You are, aren't you?" Dean's eyes left the road to look at her; she avoided his gaze. "Julia..."

"Well, she was right," she turned to him; he had looked back at the road but Julia was glad because she didn't want to get into a car accident or look back at her with those green eyes that would get her to spill her guts more than she already had.

She didn't like sharing her negative thoughts. And he was going to bother her about it, she was going to call him a hypocrite—he certainly didn't share what was going on in that head of his.

He didn't bother her about it, though. "You have your iPod?" when she nodded, held out an expectant hand. "Give it."

Julia gave him a strange look but dug it out of her purse, handing it over. He placed it on his thigh and, with one hand, dug into the cubby under the radio where Sam kept their iPod jack. He plugged everything in and kept his eyes on the road as he scrolled through her music.

She couldn't help but smile at the familiar piano intro. And then, when Dean opened his mouth to sing, she giggled.

"Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band..." he sung off tune with but he didn't care; he was doing this to cheer her up. He pointed at her as he continued, "Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man."

There was a stinging in Julia's eyes as she watched him sing loudly for her. She was so touched that he was doing this. Dean always sang along to his music but it was never this kind of music. And this song, her mom's favorite song...

"But, oh, how it feels so real, lying here with no one near, only you—sing along, Jules!" Dean's voice got louder as the music built up. "and you can hear me and I say softly, slowly...all together, now!"

"Hold me closer, tiny dancer!" Julia loudly joined in with him, her smile so large it hurt her mouth. "Count the headlights on the highway. Lay me down in sheets of linen. You had a busy day today..."

Her mood dropped when they got back to the motel and Abby and Sam told them what they found out about the guy who had the heart attack the day before.

"Marshall Hall died at four-seventeen," Abby said somberly.

Julia sighed and plopped down at the foot of Sam's bed. "The exact same time I was healed."

"Yeah."

"I put together a list of everyone Roy's healed—six people over the past year—and I cross-checked them with the local obits," Sam spoke up from behind his laptop. "Every time someone was healed, someone else died. And each time, the victim died of the same symptoms LeGrange was healing at the time."

"Someone's healed of cancer, someone dies of cancer?" Dean assumed.

Sam nodded. "Somehow, LeGrange is trading a life for another."

Julia wrinkled her nose, pressure building behind her eyes. Her stomach twisted nauseously. Marshall Hall died to save her. An innocent man was dead because of her. It was like she took a knife and stabbed him in the heart herself.

"You shouldn't have brought me here," she whispered thickly, wiping at her eyes before any tears could fall.

"We didn't know, Jules," Abby moved to sit by her, taking one of her hands. "We were just trying to save your life."

"An innocent man is dead because of me."

"Julia, the guy probably would've died anyway and someone else would have been healed," Sam tried to make her feel better; he didn't. "What I don't understand is how Roy is doing it. How is he trading a life for a life?"

"Oh, he's not doing it," Dean's voice was low in anger. "Something else is doing it for him."

Sam gave him a questioning look. "What do you mean?"

"Remember the old man you saw on stage, Jules?" when Dean looked at her, she nodded. "When you told me about it, I didn't want to believe it but deep down I knew."

"You knew what?" Abby wondered. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Think about it, Abby," Dean prompted her. "There's only one thing that can give and take life like that."

Abby inhaled sharply. "A reaper."

Dean nodded. "Exactly."

"You really think it's the Grim Reaper?" Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother. "Like, angel of death, collect your soul, the whole deal?"

"No, not the reaper, a reaper," Dean corrected him. "There's reaper law in pretty much every culture on Earth. They go by a hundred different names. It's possible that there's more than one of them."

"But J said she saw a dude in a suit," Sam reminded him.

"What, you think he should have been working the whole black-robe thing?"

"Sam, the clock stopped," Abby stated. "Reapers stop time and you can only see them when they're coming at you, which is why Julia could see it but not any of us."

"Maybe," Sam still wasn't convinced. He looked to Julia for help but she was staring down at her lap; he could tell by the faraway look in her hazel eyes that she wasn't listening.

"There's nothing else it could be, Sam," Dean said harshly as Julia focused back in. "The question is how is Roy controlling the damn thing?"

"What about that cross?" Julia suggested.

"The one with a circle around the top?" Sam asked; she nodded.

Dean gave them a confused look. "What?"

"There was a weird cross at the church," Sam explained as he pulled a pack of cards off the table, rifling through them. "I knew I had seen it before. Here."

He handed Dean a specific card. Dean looked it over and snorted. "A Tarot?"

"Let me see," Abby left her spot next to Julia to grab the card Dean was looking at. "Yeah, it makes sense. A Tarot dates back to the early Christian era when some priests were still using magic. A few of them veered into dark stuff—Necromancy, how to push death away, how to cause it..."

"So, Roy's using black magic to bind the reaper."

"If he is, he's riding the whirlwind," Sam took the card back from Abby. "It's like putting a dog leash on a Great White."

"Honestly, I don't think Roy's doing it," Julia spoke up, earning her three shocked looks.

Abby raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"When Dean and I went to talk to him, I could sense that he was telling the truth," Julia explained. "I think he truly believes that he's the one actually healing people."

"Okay," Sam knew to trust Julia when she spoke up about her abilities. "so, who's doing it?"

Julia looked over at Dean. "The one who seemed more worried about Roy's so-called flock."

Dean pressed his lips together. "Sue Ann."

"The wife?" Abby asked skeptically.

"Even when Roy and Julia were comparing bibles verses, she said only one thing," Dean crossed his arms over his chest. "and it was about Roy's popularity."

"She's got a self-important vibe," Julia added. "What if it's because she's picking people she thinks aren't moral?"

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "Could be."

"Okay, so we stop Sue Ann," Dean declared.

"How?"

"You know how," Dean answered Sam.

"Wait, what the hell are you talking about, Dean?" Sam said incredulously. "We can't kill Roy."

"I agree with Dean," Abby added her two cents. "She's playing God, deciding who lives and who dies. That's a monster in my book."

"We're not going to kill a human being!" Sam protested. "We do that and we're no better than she it."

"Okay, so we can't kill Sue Ann, we can't kill death," Dean sighed, pursing his lips in displeasure. "Any bright ideas, college boy?"

Sam gave Dean a dirty look but rose to the challenge. "Okay, if Sue Ann's using some kind of black spell on the reaper, we gotta figure out what it is and how to break it."

-

In the end, they stopped Sue Ann. The reaper was released from her hold and turned the tables back on her, killing her. The only downside of the whole thing was that Layla was just about to be healed and now she wouldn't at all. Finishing the case was bittersweet but in the end, they did the right thing. Sue Ann was playing God and she had needed to be stopped.

Now that everything was done, Abby was taking her leave from Julia and the Winchesters.

"Be careful," Julia pulled her sister into a hug as all four of them stood in the motel parking lot.

"You too," Abby kissed her forehead. "Don't let those boys get you into any more trouble."

"Hey, she does that all by herself," Dean spoke up, sending the sisters an innocent look. "She's a troublemaker."

"True."

"What? I am not!"

"Mmhm," Abby rolled her eyes and nudged Julia's shoulder. "See you in a few weeks?"

"Yeah," Julia confirmed. "Hey, what are you getting Levi? I haven't come up with anything."

"You know how he is," Abby rolled her eyes; their big brother was as serious as they come. He was quiet and he kept to himself, not having many other interests other than work or the gym. "but I'm paying for a year of his gym membership."

"Oh, that's good," Julia pouted, wishing that she would have come up with that. "Well, I'm sure I'll figure it out."

Abby nodded and then turned to Sam and Dean. "Sam, Dean, pleasure to see you two, as always. Take care of my baby sister."

"We will," Sam promised her with a smile. "Bye, Abby."

Abby winked at him, making Dean smirk at his brother, and then smiled at Julia one more time. "Love you, sis."

"Love you, too."

An hour later, in the backseat of the Impala, Julia fell into a deep sleep.

The four types flowers that had filled the field were gone. It was just a grassy field on a sunny day with her sitting in the middle. Julia looked up expectantly, waiting for her angel to make an appearance.

And he did.

"I told you, Julia Ruth. You are Chosen."

(Gif is not mine)

[fleckcmscott]

Watch What Happens - Chapter 8

Chapter links: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Summary: Arthur, an aspiring comedian, has struggled to find normalcy and compassion his entire life. Y/N, a hard-working paralegal and transplant to Gotham, has just been put on a case for the Wayne Foundation. When they meet, unexpected sparks fly.

Chapter warning: Swearing

Words: 3,835

A/N: Totally self-indulgent, but when Sinatra is mentioned, this is the song I hear playing (though almost any would do): Nice ‘N’ Easy

Also, a big thanks to @harmonioussolve​ for reading this chapter before I had the courage to post anything!

Arthur paced in front of the door to Y/N’s apartment. His shoulders lifted as he sucked in a deep breath. He couldn’t stop fiddling with the collar buttons of the red sweater he wore (one of the few pieces of clothing he had that fit him properly). A rose was in his hand, one he’d grabbed at a vendor on the way over. He’d gotten it on a lark - women were supposed to like flowers. Now he was on the verge of worrying off the leaves.

It’ll be fine. It’s only Y/N. Only Y/N - what a joke.

Forcing himself to stand still, he slowly raised his hand to trace the apartment number, 4A. Then he swallowed hard and knocked.

“Just a minute!” she called.

At the sound of her voice, he leaned forward to listen to her slight shuffling. As her footsteps brought her nearer, he screwed his eyes shut, trying to calm his pulse. Hearing the sound of the deadbolt being unlocked, he straightened. The door swung open.

There she stood, beaming. His breath stopped. That smile was for him. Because of him. It was hard to take-in. His eyebrows lifted and he held out the flower. “Hi.”

“Hi, Arthur. You look wonderful.”

His cheeks burned and he lowered his eyes to the floor. “Thanks. So do you,” he said.

Y/N took the rose from him and gently ran her fingertips over the petals. “This is lovely. Thank you.” She stepped back, then, and extended her arm to guide him inside. “Come in, come in.” After closing the door behind her, she darted back to the kitchen. “You can put your coat on the hooks by the door.”

He did as she instructed, shrugging out of his jacket and hanging it up next to hers. He felt his throat clench and pressed the back of his hand to his mouth. Don’t fuck this up. Letting out a long breath, he stepped further into the apartment and peeked around.

It was different than he’d imagined. The white walls were sparsely decorated, with a calendar here or a print there. The cream colored carpet was plush, but struck him as a pain to keep clean. The living area was larger than his own, maybe by ten square feet. In the low light of the side table lamp, he could see there were no knick-knacks anywhere, no photos. Two doors were connected to the room, which he deduced were for the bathroom and bedroom. A third, glass door led outside. His eyes went to the kitchen, which was in the same spot as in his own apartment. It was somewhat longer, with a dining nook at the end.

He knew he was out of place. The freshness, the newness of the apartment was a stark contrast to his own, aged home. It was nice to be here, though. Different, but nice.

Y/N interrupted his reverie. “Did you have any trouble finding your way here?”

Arthur approached her, leaning against the kitchen entrance and folding his arms over his chest. “No, you gave good directions.”

She cocked her head at him. “I was thinking the other day how it’s funny you live so close by. Well, relatively close by.” Stirring slowly, her attention back to the stove, she continued. “I wonder how often we passed each other without noticing,” she said.

The words, spoken in her usual casual tone, landed with him, hard. He didn’t answer, unsure of what to say. Instead, he tried to focus on her easy manner. So far, it had always helped him relax.

He let his eyes rove over her form, noting that her conservative heels complimented the curves of the back of her calves. Her knee-length skirt prevented him from checking out her thighs, but it accentuated the feminine silhouette of her backside. The blue sweater she wore was snug, and he could make out the curve of her breasts. Her hair looked soft, and he alternated between wanting to touch it and breath in her scent.

The moment she looked at him, he averted his eyes to what she was cooking. He didn’t recognize it. “That smells good. What is it?”

“Beef stroganoff. I can’t take too much credit. My crock-pot did most of the work. I’m just boiling the egg noodles now, which is about the height of my cooking skills.” She huffed and shook her head at herself. “I’m selling myself well, aren’t I?”

Arthur met her gaze, then pushed himself to verbalize what came to mind. “I’m already sold on you.” He froze for a split second, then smiled in relief as her eyes warmed and he realized he’d said the right thing. As she retrieved a colander, he saw that she’d put the rose he’d brought in a glass of water. Emboldened, he stepped next to her. “I’m actually okay around the kitchen, taking care of my mother… Maybe I can help?”

She placed the colander in the sink as she fished a noodle out of the pot. After testing it, she handed him oven mitts. “Yeah, would you drain these? The pot’s heavy and I messed up my wrist at work today. Too much typing.”

He put them on and picked up the pot. “Are you all right?” he asked. Dumping the noodles into the sink, he watched her take out plates, cutlery, wine glasses, and a bottle of red wine.

Shit. Maybe Gary had been right.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” she said, placing the silverware on the table. “Happens sometimes. Occupational hazard.” She grabbed the wine corker and opened the bottle, then held it out to him. “Here. You pour and I’ll serve.”

“Um, okay.” He took the it from her and furrowed his brow at the glasses. He’d drunk occasionally, but wine was new to him, and he was trying to figure out how much to pour. Half a glass? A full glass? He went with the latter.

Y/N’s hand was on his bicep in an instant and he stiffened. “Arthur, that’s too much,” she laughed. “Are you trying to take advantage of me?”

He flinched and put the bottle down. Did she really think that? “No, I wasn’t-.”

Her hand moving down his arm to the back of his hand stopped him. “I’m teasing you,” she said. She gave him a little squeeze. “You’re going to have to get used to it.”

The smile she was giving him, the glint in her eye, her close proximity. For a moment, he could see himself clearing the counter with his arm, lifting her onto it, stepping between her legs, pulling her mouth to his -

A nudge from her elbow caught his attention. “Is this enough?”

He blinked down at the portion. It was more than he usually ate in a day. “That’s plenty.”

After serving herself, she grabbed both plates and brought them to the small, round table at the end of the kitchen. He followed her lead, wine glasses in his hands. The corner of his mouth turned up when he saw he was supposed to sit next to her, not across from her. She sat down and put a cloth napkin in her lap, and, taking his cue from her, he did the same. “Well, enjoy.”

Arthur watched her movements for a few seconds before starting. He wasn’t used to sitting at a table and eating with someone, even though he’d often wished for it. It had always been more casual: TV dinners on the couch, or alone at his table as he wrote in his journal. He observed the way she held the knife and fork, in her right and left hands, respectively. He was used to cutting his food with the side of his fork. He tried to hold the cutlery in the same manner she did, but it felt unnatural. He could feel himself tense up. A short laugh forced its way through his throat. Wincing, he instinctively covered his mouth.

Y/N lightly put her hand on his shoulder, caressing him soothingly, then gave him a tender squeeze. “It’s okay. I’m a little nervous, too.” She hummed softly with a blush. “And I didn’t invite you here to be uncomfortable or someone else. Eat how you want.”

His eyes watered but he managed to blink it back, hoping she didn’t notice. She had no idea how often he wished to be someone else, away from this city, his conditions. But not tonight. He was glad to be here tonight. With her. Lowering the hand from his lips, he nodded. Taking his fork in his right hand, he took a bite. He chewed it slowly and mulled over the texture. “It’s very good,” he said. “Thank you.”

“It’s great when the weather’s this chilly.”

A few mouthfuls later, he tried the wine. It was surprising, a little dry, but he decided he liked it. He cleared his throat. “I know we talked about this before, but I still don’t understand how you could choose Gotham to live in. There are other cities.”

She took a drink herself. “I needed time to save up enough money to move. I was doing legal work at home, too. Once I’d put away enough and could leave, I applied to every paralegal job in a big city. Metropolis, Toronto, Central City. I didn’t care where it was. And I got work in Gotham.” She looked pleased. “I’m glad I did.”

Bashfully, he smiled back. “Me, too,” he said.

Looking ahead, she chewed thoughtfully. “I never felt at home in Boonville, you know? It’s such a small town. Nothing to do, not much opportunity. I thought I’d be able to settle down there and be content with my ex-husband, but that didn’t happen.” She squinted then and her eyes pierced his. “It doesn’t bother you, does it? That I’m divorced? I know it’s unusual, but I got married twenty years ago when we were both young and stupid.”

He wouldn’t have minded if she’d been locked up in Arkham with him. Arthur shook his head. “Does it bother you that I’m not?” He could see her shoulders loosen at his answer.

Chuckling, she continued to eat. “You seem to hate it here.”

He paused, pondering what to say that wouldn’t put her off. For reasons he would never understand, she loved Gotham. “People can be awful.” Bitter memories starting surfacing. “They’ll cut you off in line like you’re not even there. There was a homeless guy once, who died on the sidewalk near where I live. People were just stepping over him. Like they didn’t even notice.”

His voice lowered as he poked at the food on his plate. “What happened on the train?” he said. “That wasn’t the first time. You’re the only reason I got out of there all right.” He brought a hand to his forehead. “It’s tiring. And embarrassing.”

Y/N’s hand touched his and he let her pull it away from his face. “Don’t be embarrassed because others are assholes. Just don’t be one yourself. That’s all anyone can do.” She finished the last few bites of her food. “There are awful people everywhere.” A short snort escaped her. “At least here it’s in your face and you know where you stand.”

They continued in silence for a few moments, Arthur finishing his meal. “Oh, I haven’t told you yet.” He perked up, a wide smile on his face. “I have a stand-up show next Tuesday at eight. Maybe you should come see me?”

She stood, grinning down at him “Of course I’ll be there. Just tell me where.” Bending slightly at the waist, she picked up their plates. “Would you like seconds?”

He observed her, the closeness of her face. Suddenly, he was hungry again. “Please.”

~~~~~

Nicotine soothed what remained of Arthur’s nerves as he stood on the fire escape, cigarette in his mouth. He’d been craving a smoke since entering the apartment building. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he went over the evening so far. He was feeling pretty good, which was new. He hadn’t made a mistake, except with the wine, which Y/N didn’t seem to mind too much. It was nice to be around a person who so comfortable with themselves. He hoped it would be contagious - it seemed to be when he was around her.

At least partially. Part of him wondered what she saw in him, anyway. A professional woman like her interested in a high-school dropout like him? He hadn’t minded leaving school at the time. It had been difficult, with his laughter and black moods. And quitting had eventually become a necessity so he could take care of his mother. Working odd jobs and concentrating on comedy and performing had helped him get out of his own head, at least for a time. Y/N was such a contrast, having gone to college and made something of herself. He hoped she never realized he was worthless.

He closed his eyes against the musings worming their way into his brain, wishing his mind would let him enjoy himself. He felt himself slipping sometimes, though he still mostly managed to push through the negative thoughts. They were recurring more often, however. Two of his medications had run out. He only had enough of the rest to get him through Sunday. The effects of suddenly stopping them wasn’t something he knew much about, having been on them for so long. And now he had no one he could go to to ask. So far, the most obvious change had been the shortening of his refractory period from a few days to a few hours.

Though Y/N might have also helped with that. He blushed, feeling a little shameful, thinking about it with her maybe twelve feet away.

As if on cue, he heard her open the glass door behind him. “The ad for the apartment said this was supposed to be a balcony,” she giggled. When he didn’t reply, she loosely put her arm around his back at his waist. “Arthur, you’re so tightly wound. I want you to have a good time. You need more wine.”

He chuckled, the corner of his mouth turning up as he blew smoke through his nose.

Her voice was apologetic when she spoke again. “I’ve noticed when I touch you, you sometimes tense up.” Y/N stroked his side, softening her words. “Should I stop? I don’t want to, but if you-”

Arthur turned to her, grasping her hand desperately. “No. Please.” He entwined their fingers, savoring her smaller palm against his own. It was odd to voice what he craved as if it mattered. “I want you to touch me. I think about it a lot.” He scoffed at his own vulnerability. “I’m - I’m just not used to it.”

She nodded in understanding, tightening her hold on him. “It’s been a couple years for me, too.”

He flicked his cigarette off the ledge and watched it as it fell. It’s only been thirty-five here.

“Come back in,” she said, turning and pulling him inside. “It’s cold out and you could do without the cancer sticks.”

The notes of music coming from a radio in the corner caught his ear. Sinatra was playing. After closing the door, she stood in front of him expectantly. When he gave her a crooked smile but didn’t move, she extended her hand to him. “Mr. Fleck, you told me you were a good dancer,” she said, lifting an eyebrow. “Show me? Quick, before the alcohol wears off and I change my mind.”

He grasped her hand tenderly, then, and stepped closer. “Change your mind? About me?”

“No, silly. Embarrassing myself.” She gripped his shoulder.

Arthur scoffed. “I don’t think that’s possible.” It took him a couple seconds to steel himself before he could place his hand on her side. Gently, he started to move, leading her to the song’s beat and rhythm. He longed to look into her eyes, and did so for a few moments before self-consciousness took over. When that happened he pulled her closer, his eyes shutting as his jaw grazed her cheek.

After a few minutes, her forehead fell forward onto his shoulder. She moved her hand to his chest and sighed contentedly. “Where’d you learn how to dance?”

His hand went over hers. “My mom taught me when I was little. That’s when I started. And I’ve listened to a lot of Jackie Gleason Orchestra records.” He dipped her, then, not too far, but enough to feel her weight on his arm.

She laughed. “Those records are so cheesy. I love it.” When he brought her back up, she put her hand to her forehead. “I gotta sit down. My head’s spinning.” At his disappointed groan, she waved dismissively and sat on the couch. After taking off her heels and pouring a third glass of wine, she cleared her throat. “I’ve been thinking about you and your mother. You’re in a tough situation. I’ve been there.”

“You have?” he asked.

Y/N swallowed hard, taking a drink. “One of the reasons I had to stay home for so long was my father. He had dementia.” Looking up at him, she added, “Is that what you deal with?”

His brow pinched and he sat next to her. “I’m not sure. She’s been sick a long time. She focuses on strange things.” He rolled his eyes, already annoyed. “Lately, she’s been obsessed with Thomas Wayne.” Sighing, he said, “She keeps writing him letters asking for help, because she worked for them thirty years ago.”

She nodded and turned her body to face him. “My father got like that, too. Always obsessed with the mail. Thinking someone was stealing from him.” She sniffled once and swiped at her nose. “My mother had passed away. My sister - I have a sister - she tried but she has her own children.” Tucking her feet under herself, she leaned against the back of the sofa. “In the end, the worst thing was the emotional back and forth. Most days he was a shadow of who he used to be. But there were days when he knew who I was.” She clicked her tongue. “You keep hoping for more of those, but they don’t come.”

Arthur saw her lip tremble and her eyes gloss over. Pressure formed in his chest. He wanted to comfort her and make her smile, but he didn’t know how to do it. He settled for putting his hand on her forearm and turning to her.

Staring into the distance, she continued. “You get to the point where you don’t recognize yourself. All you want is to be alone with your thoughts instead of…” She blinked a couple times and looked at him, as if realizing she wasn’t alone, and grimaced shyly. She put down the wine glass. The heel of her hand went to her eyes to wipe away unshed tears. “Whew. I shouldn’t have started that third glass. I’m sorry. I’ve ruined our beautiful evening.”

“No,” he answered quickly, moving his hand to her shoulder, the way she had comforted him at the dinner table. “You didn’t.”

She stood, still seemingly embarrassed. “You’re too kind.” She held her hip and looked down at him. “You’ve asked a couple of times if I was real. Are you sure you are? You seem too good to be true. How are you not married with five children or something?”

He widened his eyes and studied the surface of the coffee table, laughing quietly. Good thing she couldn’t read his mind. Or his journal. “Now I know you’ve had too much to drink,” he said.

She continued to stand there, looking down at him with narrowed eyes. “It’s possible.”

He smiled wryly. Sensing the evening was winding down, he picked up the glasses and brought them to the kitchen. He put his hands on the edge of the counter, grasping until his knuckles were white. Even though he thought it would be the correct thing to do, considering she was tipsy, he didn’t want to leave.

Y/N followed. Her hand touched the small of his back as she moved to rummage in a bottom cabinet. “Let me pack some of this up for you and your mother.” She pulled out a few Tupperware dishes.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said.

Not heeding his words, she started to fill each dish with a separate part of the meal. “I’m one person. It’ll go bad before I eat it. Plus, I want to.”

Arthur slowly went to the door and pulled on his jacket. When he turned around, she stood before him, a grin on her face, bag of leftovers dangling from her fingertips. “Thank you for coming over, Arthur. It was the best night I’ve had in a long time.” She leaned forward, stood on her toes, and gave his cheek a tender kiss.

He let out a long breath, then, staring at the floor before meeting her look. Before the moment passed, before he left, he had the urgent need to do something, anything. His voice cracked slightly. “Y/N, I…” For one of the first times in his life, he followed his instinct, placed his hands on the sides of her face, and leaned in to kiss her.

Y/N’s lips were soft, so soft, against his own, and her short moan warmed him. He could feel her pull him closer, her hands going across his back as his own slid down to her sides. She tilted her head and deepened the kiss, one of her palms going to the nape of his neck, her fingers in his hair. When her fingernails met his scalp, a groan escaped him and he grasped her hip. It happened so quickly. He felt himself hardening in his pants as her lips sought his.

She broke the kiss first, gasping and giggling. “I’ll be at your show next week, all right?”

Arthur was lightheaded; she was still hanging onto him. His voice was unsteady when he answered. “Yes. Okay.”

She finally released him from her arms and handed him the food. He took it gratefully, a sad smile breaking out as he turned to leave. She tempered the blow by giving him another quick kiss when she opened the door. “Get home safely.”

He nodded, voice raspy when he answered. “I will.”

She slowly started shutting the door, whispering, “Good night” before it closed completely.

Arthur stood in the hallway. Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, he attempted to quiet his heart. Did she know what she did to him, how quickly and hard he had already fallen for her?

With a sigh, he started down the hall, stretching his arms in front of him to expel the energy built up in his wiry frame. After the elevator opened, he entered it with a little spin, and chuckled, thinking about he was going to need a new journal after writing tonight.

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​@clowndaddyfleck​ @stephieraptorr @rommies @sweet-nothings04​

[roswelldetails]

Episode 202: Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating In Space - Details

EPISODE SUMMARY:

Liz (Jeanine Mason) is forced to put her latest experiment on hold after Rosa (Amber Midthunder) begins to struggle with her new life in Roswell. Reluctant to face the truth about his mother’s past, Michael (Michael Vlamis) turns his attention to helping Maria (Heather Hemmens), who is dealing with her own family crisis. Elsewhere, Isobel (Lily Cowles) agrees to join her mother for a day of spiritual healing to keep herself distracted. Finally, Rosa turns to Kyle (Michael Trevino) to learn the truth about what really happened the night she died. Tyler Blackburn and Trevor St. John also star. Lance Anderson directed the episode written by Eva McKenna (#202.) Original airdate 3/23/2020.

DETAILS:

Secret lab is in an Indian Boarding School that was shut down. The Air Force bought it. It's been empty for 40 years (i.e., since approx. 1979). Part of Alex's job is to monitor it.

Security was set up by Alex’s team. They follow orders and don’t ask questions. (But that also means other soldiers know about it.)

Max's password was password. 🙄

Liz lies to Rosa. "It was beautiful. The whole town came. Everyone joined in the rosario. Mom sang Las Golondrinas. Dad wanted you in a white dress but I insisted on your Live Through This t-shirt."

According to: https://blog.sevenponds.com/cultural-perspectives/tradition-spanish-funeral “Nine days after the death, the family holds a ceremony known as a “rosario.” It consists of candles, flowers, prayers and sharing memories of the person who has died. The rosario also takes place every year on the anniversary of the person’s death.”

Las Golondrinas

Rosa Nightmare #1… unclear when it started since it flowed directly from her on the couch, doing graffiti around town, seeing her dad. Assuming it starts when she goes to the Wild Pony, pours herself a drink, hesitates, and then Max appears.

Max and Rosa's exchange:.

"What are you waiting for? You have to stop Liz. Tell her she can't bring me back, Rosa."

"Why? Why don't you want her to save you?"

"I can't take it anymore. Just end it."

"They'll figure it out. They'll save you."

"I can't wait that long. It's like burning alive from inside."

"She's never going to stop trying."

"Then you have to stop her. Please!"

Rosa wants her sketchbook from the bookshelf in their room. (Later in the episode when she breaks in we see that the bookshelf is empty. Liz cleared out Rosa's things in 1x07.)

Rosa's old email everunclear@yahoo.com (90s music reference to the band Everclear).

Michael is experimenting by blow torching a piece of alien ship.

Apparently it was Lindsay (of Hank and Lindsay) that Michael made out with. Seeing as it's only been a month since Hank died (2 weeks passed in 2x01, Maria says in 2x02 that her mom has been missing for 2 weeks), and the big guy was pissed about Michael making out with her, she moves on pretty quickly!

Maria is meeting with a private detective.

Science babble! "Human tissue can obviously regenerate from stem cells. With the right methodology I could use your blood (Isobel) to make adjustments for alien physiology. I have to monitor exactly when cell degradation begins, down to the second. I can't miss it. Eight hours before I need to be back.

Michael is developing nanotechnology to make the transplant possible. "It's like replacing parts in a broken machine."

They harvested all of Noah’s primary organs. "I have his body parts in jars."

Isobel steals what looks like an empty syringe. But at the end of the episode she has the serum in it.

New brand of fake beer! (Last season it was always Copper black lager. Now it's Hunks and Heroes Lager! Broken bottles were on the ground in the cemetery, Wyatt Long is carrying a bottle at the beginning of the scene when he and Michael fight (which could tie him to the graffiti on Rosa's grave), and also has a bottle in front of him on his YouTube video.

Michael is holding a bag from Milikan Value Hardware Store.

Flint's report on Caulfield: "Shepherd Protocol was activated. Bodies were disposed of without incident. Local papers ran an item confirming that the long-scheduled demolition of the prison was a success."

Exchange between Jesse and Flint:

"Dad, I don't think we should have covered it up. People should know."

"Do you have any idea what would happen if we confirmed that alien specimens were once housed at Caulfield but are now suddenly gone? It'd be dismissed as fake news. Buried by a racist tweet within seconds. No, we need to make a bigger statement."

"'Cause justice can't be served until after disaster has struck."

"That's right."

Really don't want to transcribe the racist rant from Wyatt Long that Rosa watches, although I will if y'all demand it. I don't think it's relevant beyond Rosa learning the truth. However as a detail I want to note, the video is titled BUILD THE WALL! IN MEMORY OF KATE LONG and it's dated September 3, 2010 (so 2 years and a few months after they died). Amusing side note. The comments on the video. Great fake usernames:

fayhuman: Kate Long didn't deserve what happened.

Curious Murphy: I just donated to the cause!!

thecyberwitch48: is this really the best solution?

Isobel’s baby is at 5 weeks, the size of a lentil.

Isobel calls Ann "Mama". Good note for fic writers! 😉

Maria's class: "Woman as Warrior: Strength Training for the Mind, Body, and Spirit."

Under the Bridge - same location as in 1x03 where Liz finds Rosa's paint canister.

Maria's cards:

Maria DeLuca

Psychic Reader

Spirit Leader

Social Media Revitalizer

Great line: "The infinite reservoir of strength and healing within us all" 😂👏

Rosa's chart…

"What's this error here?"

"Must be a contaminated sample."

"No way. I'm meticulous."

Steph says regarding the error on Rosa’s test “Congrats. Looks like you just discovered a protein never before found in the human body. Or you didn't get the Flamin' Hot orange dust off your hands when you scrubbed in. Whichever's most likely."

Michael to Liz, "I was working. I went home to find formulas I worked out years ago…"

Rosa is reciting Niebuhr's Serenity Prayer, which is commonly used by AA and other 12 step programs.

Noah was struck by lightning directly in the heart.

Isobel’s moment of epiphany:

"Using your newfound goddess strength I want you to get up and throw your fear into the fire. Set yourself free. You're a warrior. You aren't afraid of anything. Draw upon your feminine power. Why are you hesitating, Isobel? The sooner you throw your paper in the fire the sooner you can leave."

"Look, it's not that simple, okay? I can't just throw this into the fire." Maria gasps and rubs her chest, similar to how she did when she realized her necklace was missing at the beginning in 1x10) "I'm trapped.

Ann: "This is my fault. I put too much pressure on you."

"It's nobody's fault. It's just here."

Maria: "Whatever it is, you can choose to set yourself free. Say it. 'Say I choose to set myself free.'"

"I choose to set myself free."

Maria: "Louder."

"I choose to set myself free."

Rosa breaks into the Crashdown. It mirrors her first nightmare in 2x01, but it's not a dream. She goes to her room, sees the empty bookshelf, goes to the closet, and snags a hidden bottle of tequila.

Camera lingers on Steph stuffing a bottle of nail polish remover in her purse. Note: she was actually doing her nails.

Michael and Alex's conversation mostly mirrors the information we learned from the file in last week's episode. She wasn't caught until October 1948 and the crash was June 1947. She was the last alien captured and admitted into Caulfield. Alex thinks people in Roswell might have known her.

Liz says that the accident never made sense to her because when Rosa was 12, Mamma Ortecho drove drunk with Liz and Rosa in the car, hit a bike, and flipped the car. Rosa told Mamma Ortecho that she would kill her if she ever drove drunk with Liz in the car again.

Rosa's tequila brand: Blistering Rose.

Rosa’s 2nd Nightmare: Rosa runs into the cave and starts beating on the pod. When she hits it, it sounds like metal (which doesn't seem like it would make sense given what we know about the pods).

Her conversation with Max:

"Leave me alone, you dick!"

"I am so much pain, Rosa."

"Oh really? So is everybody. Man up."

"Have some mercy. I saved your life."

"My life is gone. My mom bailed, I can't talk to my dad, my entire town hates me, and my sweet little sister is somebody that I don't even know. But I do know that she'll save you. She's gonna fix you and until then, leave me alone."

"I'd Liz won't stop then you have to do it. Go to the pod, pull me out, and walk away. You won't be killing me, Rosa. I'm already dead."

"I said no. Leave me alone."

"As long as that handprint is on you I can reach you."

"Fine. I'm an expert at quieting voices."

"No. Rosa, wait. Don't do anything stupid."

"I never dreamed when I was using."

MUSIC:

1. Oasis "Wonderwall"

2. Gord Bamford "#Rednek"

3. Hamish Anderson "Trouble"

4. Radiohead "High And Dry"

[lokisgame]

A Generous Donation [16]

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10] [part 11] [part 12][part 13] [part 14] [part 15]

She pulled his mouth to hers and it was as if they were kissing for the first time. Mulder pushed the album gently aside and puled her into his lap, feeling the warm, trembling silk under his palms. They didn't rush. Holding tight and slowly claiming his mouth, she grounded his heart. These kisses could last a lifetime, if only he had time to breathe. "You wanna go to bed?" She asked, never letting go of his shoulders. "I don't think I can sleep," he said and they both laughed, relaxing into each other. He ran his hands over her back, feeling the silk slip under his palms. "Where did you get this robe?" Looking up, she met his smiling eyes. "I tell you, you have a son and you ask about my sleepwear?" "I guess I am." 

"It was a gift," she explained, "from Will and Emily." "Wow, that's not something a son would buy for his mom." "But definitely something a grown-up niece would buy for her single aunt." That made him laugh. "She spent some time in Japan, and Will went to visit." "Japan? Impressive." "That's Missy in Emily, once she tasted independence, she could never stay long in one place. Will brought this back, saying he and Em picked it out for me, when they visited Kyoto. You like it?" She spread her arms, letting the sleeves fan out and he saw white cranes flying across midnight sky. "It's amazing." "You can borrow it sometime," she teased, watching as his expression changed to somber again. "Does Will know?" Mulder asked and she lowered her gaze, drawing reassurance from his embrace. "He does about the IVF." She said, swallowing the memory. "When he turned sixteen he became obsessed with this idea that his father abandoned him. So I told him the truth." "How did he take it?" "Pretty good, considering age and his rebellious streak." "Meaning?" "He didn't talk to me for a week." "I'm sorry." "He thought he was a vanity project." "What did you do?" "Charlie talked to him, and we never spoke of it again." "You know what he said?" She shook her head, pulling herself closer. "Right now I'm just happy you're still talking to me." "Don't worry," he sighed, hugging her tightly, "I'm not going anywhere." "What about bed?" He laughed and kissed her neck. "Okay, fine, let's go to bed."

With her arm around his chest and her thigh draped over his leg, it was easy to believe, that this could be the first night of the rest of his life. Warm breath washed over his neck, filling his head with a mixture of shampoo, body lotion and something unidentifiably feminine, bringing up images of homemade cookies and clouds of perfume in the morning. This tiny weight draped over his side, once carried a life inside her. They grew together, winning, failing, learning. Now where did he fit into that story? Certainly not in the main credits. A supporting role, somewhere in the third act, maybe, Will's Father. Even if they shared genes, he couldn't claim the title with a clear conscience. He wasn't there for his first fever, first step, first bike rides and fist scraped knees. The thought humbled him and put fear in his heart. What if Will still believed his father abandoned him? What if now, he would refuse to accept him? What if this new knowledge, once more turned him against his mother? And what did Mulder actually know about the role of an adult male in a young man's life? His own father abandoned him, he could at least relate to that. Could he be the father, his father never was? Scully stirred beside him, drawing herself closer, fingertips flexing on his chest. "I can feel you thinking," she mumbled. "Shhh, go back to sleep." But she was already shifting, lips grazing skin and climbing onto his chest. Face to face in the faint glow of waning moon, he felt fingers comb through his hair. "It'll be okay," she whispered, honouring the midnight hush. Mulder sighed, running his hands over her thighs and back. "I'm sorry, I just have trouble processing it all." Beyond words, she let her head drop, and he held on. "Where do I fit in, Scully?" "Here," she replied softly, wrapping her arms around him. "Right here."

Scully woke up late, in an empty bed. "Oh no," she groaned and rolled over, burying her face in his pillow, "it was too good to be true." She breathed in the last of his scent, cold but still there. If she could have it bottled, just to have something to remember him by. "Hey, I still need that." She heard his voice and looked up, but blinded by her own hair, all she got was a soft thump and a laugh, when she tried to blow the tresses away from her eyes. "You still there?" He chuckled, parting the strands and taking her face in his hands. "There you are, good morning." "I thought you left." She said, before giving back the small kiss that was quickly becoming the best part of her morning. "Ye of little faith," he grinned and kissed her again. Scully sat up, giving back the pillow in exchange for a steaming cup of coffee. The pillow landed against the headboard, followed by Mulder, then her back, resting against his side and finally his arm around her waist. Settled, they both sighed. "Thanks for telling me," Mulder said, pressing a kiss to her skin before resting his chin on her shoulder. "When do you want to tell Will?" "I don't know," she said taking a sip, "he's so fragile right now." "But he's a grown-up too," Mulder said gently, "he has the right to know." "It's been ten days since transplant," she sighed, "I don't want stress to ruin his recovery." "Will he suspect something, if I visit more?" "Maybe, but he adores you, so we might get away with it, for a while at least." "Who else knows?" "Charlie," she said, sheepishly. Mulder chuckled. "That explains things." "And I guess Emily." "That's why she called me Uncle Mulder." "I don't know if Charlie told her or she figured it out on her own, it's like she has a sixth sense or something. I'll talk to her before I set out to kill my baby brother." "It's your mother I was worried about." "Oh, there's no need," Scully laughed, "you saved her favourite grandson, you could eat fried kittens for breakfast and she'd still love you." "Kittens?" "Or puppies." "I'm going vegan." "No you're not." She laughed and turned, setting her mug on the nightstand and draping one, slender, bare leg over his lap. The short, silk nightshirt rode up, and she saw his eyes follow the tantalizing lines. "You're right, I'm not," he teased, his tone turning smoky as he pushed her to lean back, "just don't tell your mom what I really like for breakfast."

"Hey kid." Mulder said when Will woke up. "Hi, where's mom?" "They called her in to some ER emergency." "Oh, right, it happens sometimes." "So, what's with the face wear." "You guys wear something all the time, I got jealous." "Don't joke." "They say my saturation is a little low," Will said, fixing the tube under his nose, "I told them, I could use some fresh air, but they insisted on this canned stuff." "Not a fan of the can?" Will laughed and rubbed his nose. "It tickles." "Leave it, try not to think about it." "There's not much to think about left." "What did you think about?" "You know, the usual, school, girls, grades." "Girls." "There's this nurse who usually comes for nightshifts." "And?" "I think she likes me." "You're a likeable kid." "No, I mean, she doesn't call me honey or darling, like the other mother hens around here." "What does she call you." "Will, just Will, and she doesn't treat me like a needle cushion. Very gentle, nice hands too, from what I could tell through the latex." "What else?" "What do you mean?" "You said you thought about FBI, investigative work. Even the smallest detail can be crucial to solving a case, so, pay attention. Practice on something that's easy on the eye before you have to deal with the gruesome stuff." "What did you see?" "You don't wanna know, and I don't feel like remembering." "That bad?" "If it didn't affect me so much, I would probably be an FBI agent, myself." "Agent Mulder," Will said, testing the words, "it has a nice ring to it." Mulder laughed. "It does, doesn't it."

"Dinner's in the oven." Scully said, plopping down on the couch, then promptly falling over. She pulled one of the throw pillows under her head and set the egg timer on the floor, making the little bells inside chime quietly. "Okay, but I repeat, you should have let me help, I'm surprisingly apt in the kitchen." "I'm sure you are, but this is my way of winding down. I tend to take out my frustrations on the chopping board and I wouldn't want you to get into crossfire." "That dangerous, huh?" "Fair warning." "I'll try to remember that, want a blanket?" "No, I'm good, ignore me, I'm just gonna doze for a bit." "Okay." Comfortable silence fell between them. Mulder worked at his desk, Scully relaxed on the couch, timer ticked off minutes going by. "What do you want for Christmas?" She asked suddenly, when he was sure she had fallen asleep. "What?" "Christmas, gifts." "I'm half Jewish." "And the other half?" She murmured, keeping her eyes closed. "Atheist and I think it's always been the bigger half, because it always wins." "There's no such thing as bigger and smaller halves," she said, smiling, "a half is a half." "Nobody likes a math geek, Scully." "Nobody likes a party pooper either, so what do you want for Hanukkah, Mulder." "You won't let this go, are you." "No," she replied, grinning, still with her eyes closed. "Then I'll let you know." "Okay, just don't take too long." She said and went back to playing possum.

"Professor Mulder!" Mulder heard someone call and, surprised by the audacity, turned around then laughed. "Charlie!"   The younger man grinned and stopped his bike a foot from where he paused. "I had you," he said as they shook hands. "No you didn't." Mulder chuckled, "I thought we were meeting downtown." "Sadly, I don't have that much time, but I was in the neighbourhood, so I figured I'll catch you here. Traffic is awful." "And it's just the beginning of Christmas rush." "You're a psychologist, so you gotta have some reasonable, scientific explanation." "Nope, beats me, and I don't even participate." "Right. Is there somewhere we can sit down around here?" "Sure, you wanna eat? There's a good Thai place down the block." "Lead the way." Charlie got off the bike and they picked up a steady pace. "I wanted to give you a heads up," Mulder said after a moment, "Scully is coming for you." "She usually does," Charlie laughed, "what is it this time?" "You telling Emily about the test results." "Oh," Charlie looked up, surprised, "oh! She told you!" "Yeah," Mulder smiled, slipping hands into the pockets of his coat and Charlie put his arm around his shoulders. "Thank you for what you did," he said with complete sincerity, "Will is a great kid." "In large part thanks to you, I imagine." "No, thanks to Dana, she did an amazing job raising him. And just when she was about to lose him, she found you, exactly when she needed you the most. I'll be forever grateful for that. Still," his tone changed, if only a little, "if you hurt her, I'll be there to make you pay for it." Mulder glanced up and saw the grin, back in full swing. "What? She is my sister." "I'll remember that." "I'm sure you will." Charlie laughed, good-naturedly slapping Mulder's back before letting go. "So, is that what you wanted to talk to me about?" "No," Mulder chuckled, "actually, it's about Christmas." "What about it?" "What kind of gifts does she like?"

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Of Dust and Ashes (Chapter 21)

Happy Friday, those of you still reading. I feel like I’ve lost some of you the last few weeks or so but I expected it. Holidays can take time away from reading. Lord knows they took time away from writing as well. Regardless, I hope all is well in the New Year. 

Clint x ofc

Series Rated M for violence, sexual content, high concentrations of triggering content, major character death, gore and well the whole caboodle. 

The rest of the series can be found on my Masterlist. Feel free to buy me a kofi- lord knows I run on coffee. 

Chapter warnings: Umm… talk of baby care and the joys that come with it?

~~~~~<3

Chapter 21: Is there a difference between Dust and Ash?

Cling and Dee hovered behind Sasha as she put the babe on the scale. The hard plastic was cold, even with the sterile pad placed between her naked skin and the cold surface. The bite was being driven from the room with each passing moment and it didn’t take long for jackets to be unzipped and discarded.  

Sasha looked over every inch of the baby girl, remarking at her too light weight and clear dehydration as she went. It had been a blessing that she had avoided frostbite on her small fingers and toes. At Sasha’s direction, Clint set to work heating water on the wood stove, checking the temperature often with his fingers.  

Dee dutifully followed instruction, unpacking clothes and blankets. There were bottles and pacifiers. Most importantly, she unpacked cans of formula. The sight of the first can took a weight off her shoulders.  

They had taken to calling the baby Elsa, after the snow queen that had plagued both Clint and Dee’s homes. There was a limit of how many times one could watch Frozen before growing to hate the retold story of the Snow Queen. It wasn’t even close to the original story but it was a popular retelling and had made plenty of money.  

Under Sasha’s watchful guidance, they began to slowly introduce formula to Elsa. She didn’t take to the bottle right away but their main worry was only getting something into her. Sasha had been worried about blood sugar levels but Elsa was so young and so dehydrated that she didn’t dare trying to pull blood to test. Stressing her tiny body any more than needed could be that last shove over the edge.  

After giving her a few teaspoons of formula spread out over half an hour, she began to figure out the bottle much to the joy of the adults. She still wasn’t feeding with much enthusiasm.  

They diligently checked her diaper for any signs of waste though Sasha assured them it would be a while before things started moving. Each time she ate, they wrote down how much they allowed her to take. Sasha had made it clear that even if she wanted to drink the whole bottle, they couldn’t risk letting her. To overwhelm her stomach could make things worse for her tiny body.

She was so young and so underweight that everything was risky. They spent the night in that clinic, though the thought of being away from the safety of the farmhouse gave them both anxiety. Clint had made a run up to the farmhouse and returned with more supplies, surplus vegetables and berries, a hunk of deer meat and Trust.

The dog was very much offended at having been left behind for so long. He made his stance on the matter known by pouting for all over five minutes before realizing there was a tiny human who needed sniffing.  

Over the course of three hours of micro feedings, Elsa had consumed almost what Sasha would have liked a typical baby to have in one feeding at her age. But it was better than nothing. It was clear that the feeding had perked Elsa up as well. She fussed and looked around with renewed energy. Little legs and arms waved through the air before she settled into a deep sleep. She seemed so much more relaxed than how she had been sleeping against Dee’s chest.  

It was almost four hours before she passed urine. They celebrated with sodas. Five hours after her first feeding and shortly after the second proper feeding, she passed stool. It was terrible and stank but the three adults celebrated anyway.  

Clint had made them a deer steak dinner, cooked over the wood stove. He sauteed up potatoes- some of the last from Dee’s initial supplies as well as bell peppers and asparagus- grown from the trailer greenhouse.  

Dessert was a simple selection of strawberries dipped in milk chocolate bars they had melted over the stove. The meal brought tears to Sasha’s eyes and they sat quietly as she cried.  

“I’ve never eaten deer.” She spoke through a mix of sobs and laughter.  

Clint and Dee watched as the nurse fell apart. When the tears stopped, she began to put herself back together. It was late in the night and each understood how raw emotions could be. Things were different now. A hearty meal and something like sodas and chocolate dipped strawberries were a reminder of a time when such things were simply expected.  

By morning, little Elsa was acting more like a baby her age. Clint set to work making a pot of coffee while Dee boiled up quick oats and made a bottle of formula. In one of the treatment rooms, Sasha was still asleep.

They were careful to move around the space without making too much noise. Elsa had woken many times through the night, as was expected and the three adults had taken turns with her care. Now, they were careful to let Sasha sleep.  

“How long are we going to stay?” Dee whispered as Clint handed her a mug of coffee, doctored with sugar and powdered creamer.  

“Probably until noon.” Clint’s eyes flicked back to the hall. Sasha had wanted to take Elsa into the room with her while she slept and it had been hard to convince her otherwise.  

“What about her?” The taste of the coffee drew a moan from her. It had been a while since she had any cream in her coffee. “Are we going to bring her back with us?”

Clint’s jaw clenched and she watched as the muscle ticked under the surface. He was watching her closely, gauging her reaction to his silence. He was weighing that against his answer.  

He knew, beyond a doubt that no matter what answer he gave, she would defer to his choice. As much as he wanted her to see the land behind the gates and the farmhouse as her home as much as his, he knew she wasn’t there yet. And that was alright. It took time. They had time.

He cleared his throat. “I’d rather not take anyone else inside the gates.”

“Other than Elsa?”

“Other than Elsa.” He agreed, leaning in and placing a chaste kiss on her lips, a silent thanks for understanding.

“So what do we do about Sasha?” Dee whispered.  

“I figure- she’s a nurse, she’s helpful.”  

The baby, sleeping tightly swaddled and placed on a changing table pad on the ground fussed and they fell silent. Trust’s nose was sitting right on the edge of the padding as he watched over her. It wasn’t as safe as a crib but it was better than nothing. The clock on the wall ticked as they waited to see if the fussing would become cries or if she would fall back to sleep. Once she stilled, Clint continued.  

“I don’t want to give her access beyond the gate but we have some surplus supplies. I could make supply runs to her, bring her wood and food to help her through the winter. If she stays put that long, we can bring her some plants to transplant into her own garden in the spring.”

“Do you think she’ll survive till spring?” Dee watched the steam rising from her mug. “I mean, if she stays here? What if King Jacob’s men find her?”

“It’s a miracle they haven’t already.”

“Clint?” Dee whispered, reaching out and wrapping her fingers around his bicep after setting her coffee to the side. “What are we going to do with her?”

“With who? Elsa?” He hummed in thought as he rested his larger hand over hers. “Well, we’re taking her back to the house. I’ve got a crib in the attic I can put together for her to use for now.”

“Then what?” Dee whispered and he could see tears gathering in her eyes. “Clint- I can’t do this. I- I can’t.”  

He shushed her and pulled her into his embrace. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“I can’t, I can’t raise her. Clint- I- if you want to, okay I’ll go but I- I can’t.”

“I know honey.” He rocked her in his arms, holding her tightly to him. They moved together, clinging to one another in what was almost a dance though there was no music to be heard. “It’s just for a bit, just until we get her mom.”  

“What if we can’t? What if she’s dead? What if they killed her already? What if she gets killed when we go for her? What if-”

“Hush.” Clint spoke over her, voice firm but quite. “If something goes wrong, we’ll leave Elsa with Sasha. I’m already planning on helping support her and she’s a nurse.”

“Okay.” She whispered.  

“But it won’t matter. Because I’m sure we’ll save her mom. And everything will be okay.”

“What about after-”

Clint cut her off. “We’ll figure after out. I know it’s hard. Please, try to focus on now. Now is what matters. Now, you’re here with me. We’re alive and we’re together.”

~~~~~<3

Sasha didn’t want to allow them to leave with the baby. Eventually, they were able to iron out a deal where Elsa would be returned for checkups and Sasha gave the baby her first round of immunizations. They were sent off with an armful of formula cans. They would have liked to have taken more with them but Sasha wasn’t having it. It was clear that she was withholding it in part to ensure their return.  

There was a relief in crossing back through the gates. Dee had Elsa tucked against her chest, swaddled tightly and tucked into her jacket. Little fingers ran over her skin, offering a silent comfort. It reminded Dee that at least this little one was okay. For now.  

While Clint pulled the crib up from the basement and assembled it in the living room, Dee busied herself warming water to mix up a bottle. Little Elsa wasn’t fussing but it had been a few hours since she had eaten.  

It had been a long time since Dee had care for an infant but she remembered how important regular feedings were, especially when so young and so malnourished. It was easier to be in the house while distracted by the little body in her arms.  

The crib was disassembled and stored in large trash bags, keeping to free from dust. That didn’t stop stop Clint from taking a bucket with warm soapy water and wiping it down before assembling it. Dee sat on the couch, Elsa cradled in her arm with a bottle in hand as he worked.  

The crib was ornate and clearly hand carved. The way Clint worked with it, the ease and comfort, she wondered if it was his handiwork. She hadn’t seen him do any carving in their time together but he’d mentioned much of the work he’d done around the house and his penchant for doing it himself was clear as day. He was a man of many talents, skills and crafts.  

The more she spent with him, the more it amazed her. The media painted him as so average and the least super of the super team. He was marksman with a keen eye and battle hardened and that was all anyone ever said about him.

But he was so much more than that. He was a dedicated father. He was a man with  many skills and talents that made him uniquely able to survive. No one knew he was well versed in gardening or keeping chickens. He was a skilled hunter of food game as well as human targets. He could build and repair. He could maybe even carve the ornate scrolls at the top of the crib posts.  

“The mattress was in a vacuum bag.” Clint’s voice drew her out of her thoughts. Elsa had almost finished the bottle. While she hadn’t fussed, she was a hungry little thing. “It’s even kept a seal, surprisingly enough.”

“Mine never did.” Dee joked as she moved the baby to her shoulder, softly patting and rubbing her back while Clint laughed.  

“Most of mine don’t either. Looked like some of the blankets and baby clothes are still sealed too. I’ll bring them up.”

“Would that be okay?” Dee asked, watching him closely. “They’re your kid’s stuff- we’ve got some blankets. I’d understand if you didn’t want to- you don’t have to-”

“No, no- It’s okay.” For a moment, he was silent and in thought. “I think.” He swallowed hard before starting again. “I think I need to let go. I’m not strong enough to hold onto their stuff, like you. Not when it’s not practical.”

“I’m not strong.” Dee glanced to where the folded blanket sat with the stuffed fox, neatly on the coffee table. It never occurred to her to let little Elsa use that blanket. If she was honest with herself, if she dared to give it voice, she knew she wouldn’t let anyone else use that blanket. The cost didn’t matter. But she wanted to. She wanted to get to a place where she could let go.

“You are.” Clint answered as if it was plain as day. The discussion was closed and he fetched the mattress and bed sheet.

Trust took up residence under the crib, sleeping with his chin resting on paws. Clint’s hand rested on her lower back as she reached down and placed the baby on the firm mattress. Elsa was tightly swaddled and only fussed for a moment before settling back to sleep.

“I’m going to run back to the basement, see what I can find. I’m pretty sure I’ve got some baby stuff still.”

She watched him go before collapsing onto the couch. Trust lifted his head and snorted at her before going back to sleep. Since waking that morning, she’d been hesitant to put Elsa down. Clint couldn’t hold her while driving or assembling the crib. Only now that she allowed herself to relax for a moment did she feel how her arms, shoulders and back ached.

“I got some-” Clint started loudly before dropping his voice. “Stuff...”

“What?” She mumbled, sitting up. She hadn’t intended to or been aware that she had fallen asleep.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I didn’t mean to sleep.” She stretched and this time it was her back’s turn to pop. “What are we going to do? The crib won’t fit in the RV.”

Clint sighed, fully aware. “It won’t. Elsa will have to stay in the house.”

“She can’t stay in the house alone.” Dee cut him off only to have him talk over her.  

“I can stay in the house with her. You don’t have to- I won’t try to make you stay in the house. I know you don’t like being in here. I can’t blame you for that, it’s hard for me even, but I can.  

“You can’t take care of her all by yourself. That wouldn’t be fair.”  

“I’ll manage. I’ve done worse and it’s just for a bit and-”

“I’m not sleeping in the RV Clint. I’m not leaving you to do it all alone.”

“Are you sure? You can, you can change your mind, you know? If it gets to be too much. I’m just- I understand.”

While he rambled, running his hand through his disheveled hair, Dee watched him. His black tee hugged his chest and highlighted his strong arms each time his bicep flexed to move. She watched as he turned his back to her, rambling words spilling from him as he tried to set her at ease.  

But that was all she needed. It was clear as day that he would do anything to keep her safe, body, mind and heart. That was all she needed from him. That was all she wanted from him.  

Slipping off the couch, she made her way to him. As she passed by the crib, she allowed her fingers to run over the smooth railing, worn down and discolored with time. Warm fingers rested on his firm back. Under her touch, he tensed up for a moment. It quickly passed and a sigh slipped out of him as he relaxed.  

She ran her hands around his side, wrapping around his waist. As a hand rested on his chest, his fingers wrapped around her hands and held them tightly to him. For a moment, he held her like that, simply being together.  

“Where will we sleep tonight?” She whispered.  

“There’s a guest room just off the hall down here.” He pulled her hand from his chest and placed a soft kiss on her palm. “I’m sure we’ll hear her if she wakes but I found the last set of baby monitors, just in case. I’ve got batteries around here somewhere.”

“You don’t have to sleep in the guest room.” She whispered words she did not want to say, “It’s your house and if you want to sleep in your own bed, you can.”

“I want to sleep by you. Where ever you are, that’s where I want to be.”

“That’s where I want you to be too.” She admitted.  

The night seemed to fly by and before long, Clint was leading the way into the room. The door cracked open and a fire burned in the wood stove. She could hear the crackling of it from the room.  

Trust had found someone to be more loyal to than Dee. The dog didn’t much want to leave little Elsa’s side. She worried some that the dog wasn’t going to cope well with the baby leaving their side, when the time came. And the time would come.  

“You must have been an amazing mother.” Clint’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. He’d returned with a change of clothes for them both from the RV.

“How good could I have been for them to be gone?” She asked but regretted it instantly when pain flashed across his face. He’d lost his children as well. At least they didn’t suffer, not like hers had.

“We both did. And we couldn’t have done anything to stop it.” He spoke to her but the words were for himself as much as her.  

She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t true, that she didn’t have to have lost her kids. They could have survived. They didn’t have to know the pain, the way fire licked and ate at flesh. She didn’t have to put them on the bus that morning.  

But when she opened her mouth to say it, to admit it, the words were lodged in the back of her throat.

Clint wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest as her silent words gave way to quiet tears. Rather than try again, she rested her head on his shoulder and clung to him.  

It’s not like it really mattered, what had happened. She had Clint now and he would hold her through the hurt. He loved her, in that weird way that love was in this world. And she loved him, in the same weird way.

Did it really matter, if her children and turned to dust or ash? It’s not like it could be undone anyway.  

~~~~~<3

Tag list is always open:

@usedtobegoodfriend96​, @acoholic-muffin​, @theoneanna​, @alexakeyloveloki​, @toozmanykids​, @j-u-s-t-4​, @missaphrodite23​, @winterisakiller​, @bambamwolf87​, @nonsensicalobsessions​, @tinchentitri​, @xoxabs88xox​, @queenoftheunderdark​, @carissime72​, @myoxisbroken​, @coyotesongwriting​, @wegingerangelica​, @faemapfae​, @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​, @tnystrk-exe​

[smallmediumproblems]

Sic Transit

Summary: Jon wants to take a shortcut.

The excitement of the night’s activities was doing a decent job of keeping Jon awake. It also involved a lot more walking than he was used to. It occurred to him that he didn’t remember the last time he’d slept. He wasn’t even considering a full night’s sleep, that was well out of the realm of possibility. He’d struck an uneasy truce with the process, timing his work around when it might be most convenient for him to pass out at his desk for an indeterminate amount of time. His instinct was not to say anything now that sleep was catching up with him. When he found the tailors over an hour away, though, something broke inside him.

“We’re taking a detour,” he told the group. An odd look was passed around, but no one argued when he led them just a couple intersections away and started squinting around for what he’d been looking for. They should have been right on top of it, but were instead sandwiched between a closed segway rental shop and store pronouncing itself as ACME Water Slides. “There's sort of a tram system in this section. There should be cars somewhere? I don’t think it’s on a rail.”

“Like a funicular,” Nick suggested.

“Yes, exactly,” said Jon.

“Would this funicular happen to be ferret-based,” Nick asked very seriously.

“I literally cannot imagine how or why that w-” Jon started to say, stopping himself short with a sigh when Nick pointed towards the ceiling.

Two thick metal cables ran the length of the Arcade parallel to the hallway, criss-crossing at each junction like an enormous loom. As if on cue, something four-legged and furry and approximately the length of a VW bus bounded down one of the cables away from them, moving quickly but surprisingly quietly. Jon could just barely make out a vehicle cabin harnessed to its back.

“Of course,” said Jon, who was about ready to take his rock and go home right then and there. “At least it’s not spiders. What now?”

“We could try to lure one down,” said Morgan. She inspected the contents of her Joann’s bag thoughtfully. “Ferrets eat meat right?”

“Awww, come on,” said Static Man, leaping immediately to whatever conclusion she had reached. “I liked those ones.”

“I told you, they’re already going stale,” said Morgan. She pulled out what looked at first like a very large chew toy, but which Jon realized with horror was a human tibia covered in blunt, decorative spikes. As she did so, she jogged over to the nearest intersection to wave it at something she spotted in the distance. A massive ferret slowed to a stop in front of her, arching its back to sniff at the offering. After a brief appraisal, it slunk to the floor and wiggled expectantly.

“Thank you, Morgan,” Static Man commented with mock sincerity as they piled into the cabin. “Hey, we should get one of these.”

“I’ll look into it,” said Nick, and sounded like he meant it. “The food wouldn’t be cheap, but imagine the cuddles.”

The cabin was, not surprisingly at this point, bigger on the inside. They had to duck past the door, but the ceiling extended up several feet into the space the ferret should have been occupying. There was a booth with six cushy seats across from a screen of scrolling pink text.

“Uhh,” Nick hovered by the screen, poking it experimentally. The text was packed so incomprehensibly tightly that it was impossible to read while it was in motion. “You guys might want to get comfortable.”

“Here,” said Jon. He touched something that looked like a scroll bar on the side of the display, dragged it to a very precise point, and selected one of the items. The screen darkened to make way for an animation of some cartoon leaves, revealing a minimalist logo that read Birch & Co. Jon gave Nick a supportive pat on the shoulder before settling himself into the booth.

“Hey,” Static Man whispered loudly to Nick, “We should get one of those, too.”

Jon stifled a laugh as he relaxed back into his seat. “You’ve already got the food budget sorted. But I’d prefer we stay clear of any snuggle-related services.”

"You're not even in the same ballpark of how cuddly a giant ferret would be," Static Man reassured him.

The interior was cozy, in a touristy sort of way. It looked like someone had transplanted a pub booth into a ferris wheel compartment. There was a dizzying moment when the ferret wriggled back up onto its cables, inexplicably not rotating the cabin at all, but soon enough they were headed at a swift pace towards their final stop in the Arcade.

“I thought we were in for another rest stop,” said Morgan, peering out of the window. “Maybe hang out in a bookstore for a while. This is way better.”

Jon shuddered. “I really don’t want to see what kind of books this place has to offer.”

“Really?” Nick said, not hiding his surprise. “I figured you’d be kind of a bookworm.”

“In a general sense,” said Jon. “I’m not fond of titles with special effects. Have you heard of Jurgen Leitner?”

Nick tilted his head thoughtfully. “It sounds familiar. I’ve probably seen some of his stuff, but I wouldn’t recognize it.”

“Like the band Kiss,” Static Man added helpfully.

“He had a book collection,” said Jon, deciding to ignore this comparison. “It got loose several years ago, and its constituents have been making themselves a nuisance ever since.”

“Again, like Kiss,” said Static Man.

“You’ve-” Jon was about to say to Morgan, when he realized that she hadn’t actually told him about her encounter with a Leitner. Judging by the panicked look on her face, she also hadn’t told Nick or Static Man. “You’ve not heard of him, either, I take it.”

Morgan relaxed. “Doesn’t ring a bell,” she shrugged.

“Count yourselves lucky, then,” said Jon.

“I’m not so sure,” said Nick. That recognition on his face was resolving into a suspicious look that made Jon’s hair stand on end. Nick unsaddled his bag and started to rifle through it. “Could you identify something for me? I know we’re behind a statement, but I’m sure we could work out some-”

“Nicholas, what I want most in this world right now is a nap and a granola bar,” Jon said tersely. “Show me the book.”

Nick retrieved a slim brown paper bag closed at the top with painter's tape. It looked for all the world like he'd gotten a postcard from a gift shop. Inside was a travel brochure decorated with badly photoshopped pictures of planes and buses, with text that asked boldly "WHERE WILL YOU GO?" It took Jon a second to notice that the text was in Arabic. Judging by the lurid colors and the way the vehicles seemed to judder and shift, Jon guessed it was something to do with the Spiral. The side of the brochure was also taped shut. Nick made no motion to remove the restraints.

"Where did you get this?" asked Jon.

"The same place I got you," Nick said reluctantly. "I found it right next to the ritual that summoned you. I haven’t tried it yet, it’s… sort of a beta tester. Any good vendor has a few in the back. Most will cut you a deal if you’re willing to take a chance on one. They’re more dangerous, since what comes out the other end is purely theoretical, but potentially very valuable.”

The supposed Leitner seemed well secured, so Jon decided to stop and address this new detail of his situation.

“Are you saying you found me in a discount bin?” he asked.

Nick opened and closed his mouth, trying to find a way not to answer the question. “Technically, they are paying me.”

“Good lord,” Jon muttered.

“Wait, this wasn’t tested?” asked Morgan, “Nick, you said it was safe.”

“It is. He is,” Nick insisted tiredly. “The guy’s scared of spiders, for Christ’s sake.”

“You had no way of knowing,” Morgan exclaimed.

“Were you, like, not there when he lobotomized half a dozen swamp monsters?” said Static Man. He made an apologetic gesture to Jon. “No offense, dude.”

“No, that’s exactly what I mean,” said Jon. “You’re only putting yourself in danger dealing with these powers. Some of the others would have hurt you quite badly by now.”

“What’s this ‘others’? Are you dangerous, or not?” Nick drawled. He gave Morgan and Static Man a dissatisfied look. “I did plan for that. You two at least should know better.”

“This isn’t about me,” Jon started to argue.

“Then we’re having two different conversations,” Nick said sharply, cutting him off. “I trust the untested rituals exactly as much as I trust the tested ones, which is not at all. That works both ways. I can’t trust things like you until I’ve stared down their throat and gotten a good, long look at what makes them tick. I’m sure you think you’ve been very gracious this whole time. But you’re not the only one who’s pulling punches to get through this a little more comfortably. I can assure you, Archivist, that this would have been a very different experience for you if I’d wanted it to be.”

Jon caught the edge of the thoughts Nick was dancing around, and was in no mood to respect that privacy anymore. Nick’s very first statement had risen to the front of his mind again, the one he thought he’d had the decency not to touch. He unfolded a memory of heartbreak, of trust and hope that had been broken beyond all reason or repair. He could have pulled the whole thing from him like a stray thread from the hem of a jacket.

Instead, he awoke several minutes later in a darkened room.

“Heyyyy, discount bin,” said a shifting assortment of shapes at the edge of his vision. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Gbvfhnh,” said Jon. While this wasn’t what he’d intended to say, it conveyed vital information about how the inside of his skull was melting all over his brain.

“Cool, cool,” said the shapes. “FYI, we’re at the place. Doing the thing. And now we’re in the waiting room, cause it has niiiice comfy couches.”

“I was not aware that you had fingers,” Jon told the shapes, which sounded an awful lot like Static Man.

“Yeah, ‘fingers’ is kind of a strong word,” Static Man agreed. “What’s like, appendages, but for your appendages? Appendageages.”

“Digits,” Jon whimpered. The noise - any noise - made his blood pound distressingly, forcing his skull up against the other, more tender parts of his head. There was a distinct gray ache in his stomach that told him it was well past time he asked after that statement he was owed. He managed to move a hand up to his temples and started poking around to see if he could massage the pain away. “Wh… What happened?”

“Beats me, man. You guys had a psychic fight or something and you passed the fuck out,” Static Man failed to explain. “Nick said you were poking around in his head. That true?”

Jon let his hand settle over his eyes. “Yes. That was… An extremely poor decision.”

“...yeahhhh.”

Even if he’d been able to see Static Man’s face, it wasn’t likely that Jon could have read his expression. Judging from the length of the silence that followed, it was not a favorable one.

“Morgan was pissed,” Static Man spoke up again. “She thought you were dead for a second.”

“That’s kind of her to be concerned,” Jon muttered. “Where are they now?”

“Inside. They left me out here to guard the door, and our ride home.” A certain energy had drained from Static Man’s voice, as well as a good amount of volume.

Beyond him, Jon could hear faint sounds of nature. Water flowed over rocks, and something small rustled through foliage. Jon painstakingly adjusted to a sitting position and got a good look at their final stop. It didn’t look like a forest had invaded an expensive spa, so much as the two environments had grown up in tandem and arranged a business partnership along the way. Hardwood flooring snaked a path through beds of dark, loamy earth. Plants of varying size but uniformly good health spilled out over the dirt. It was hard to see the walls or the ceiling through the tree canopy, a problem that was not helped by the tastefully dimmed lighting.

Jon looked up to see Static Man lounging against a tree by the end of the bench (which was in fact very comfy) that had housed his head. He attempted an excruciatingly awkward smile.

“I hope you’re not still worried that I’ll run off,” said Jon.

“Honestly, dude, I don’t know what to worry about you,” Static Man commented. “You just attacked my best friend.”

“I am sorry about that, and I intend to tell him as much when he comes back,” said Jon. There was a tight sort of helplessness in his chest, and it trickled down into his gut as a deep, queasy feeling of disappointment. He’d had all the means in the world to get this right, and he had still managed to make himself hated and feared. Perhaps that was really all the Archivist was good for.

“Hey, you know what happens when I apologize?” Static Man replied, “After I attack someone?”

Jon stared at him hopefully.

“Usually, they’re still dead,” Static Man told him.

Jon glanced down again. Someone had laid his tape recorder discreetly on the floor, next to where the group’s belongings were piled at the head of the bench. A very small corn snake was observing him from atop it. It declined to skitter into the underbrush when they made eye contact. It also declined to put a good word in on his behalf.

“Would you believe I was scared?” he asked very quietly.

Static Man laughed. “That’s what you’re going for? You’re the scary one. That’s literally your whole thing.”

“Not really,” said Jon. “If anything, it’s my job to be scared. A passive observer to things that frighten and disturb. Everything else is rather ornamental.”

“That’s… Yeah, okay, that sucks,” Static Man said, shifting uncomfortably, “Still not getting why the hell you think it’s okay for you to act like this.”

“Because you’re good people, and it scared me to think of you getting hurt,” said Jon. “I’ve seen so many people die because of things like me, and the powers that made me what I am. Hearing him talk about it like it’s some kind of tool, another magic trick to add to his collection, I just… I panicked. No one encounters these forces without a price. The kind of people who go after them voluntarily tend to get someone else to pay on their behalf.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Static Man spat. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about Nick.”

“I know he’s not like that,” Jon shot back, “Which leaves the alternative: he has no idea what he’s getting into. There’s no coming back if he finds out the hard way.”

They both looked away sharply at the sound of the front door opening. Jon’s heart sank to see a familiar woman with a brown hemp apron and a face full of piercings taking in the interior with a polite, disinterested smile. She wandered to the empty front desk, and made a show of pretending to notice Jon and Static Man only as soon as she neared the benches.

“Am I interrupting something?” she asked, “Please. Don’t stop on my account.”

“What do you want?” Jon snapped at her. The pierced woman looked surprised, almost offended.

“Just taking a walk,” she said breezily. “I needed some time to think about our conversation. I thought maybe you did too. You’re about done here, right? Do you have a minute to circle back, rethink my offer?”

“I think I made it very clear that I’m not interested,” said Jon.

“I don’t think that’s what you said,” she told him. “You said, you made a deal with these people. And you implied pretty heavily that, when they’re gone, you’ll be free to go.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” said Jon. He leaned down to pick up the tape recorder before standing beside Static Man.

“I definitely wouldn’t warn you ahead of time,” said the pierced woman. “What I would do is wait for a dramatically appropriate moment to drop in and let you know that all hope is lost, and your friends are surely dead by now.”

An extremely sad mechanical noise came from the other end of the room. Morgan stood in the doorway to the rest of the store, clutching a bloody hunk of fabric to her shoulder with one hand, and her weaponized instrument in the other. The bottom half of the instrument was a splintered mess. She looked between the three of them. Her eyes settled on Static Man.

“Go,” she said hoarsely, “Get Nick.”

Static Man barreled past her into the room beyond with a roar like a passing semi truck. Morgan limped over to Jon, who reached out quickly to steady her.

“Guess he decided not to eat you,” she said.

“I am your ride home,” Jon pointed out. Morgan smiled.

“He’s pulled worse stunts,” she said. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”

“So I heard,” said Jon. He helped her onto the sofa to secure her makeshift bandage, and tried not to look too closely at the messy gouge that it was covering. “That’s better than I usually get.”

“Are you two finished yet?” said the pierced woman irritably. “I’ve got some murders to commit, and I’d like to get started.”

Morgan glanced over at her with an almost palpable disdain before returning her gaze to Jon. She stretched to hook a shopping bag with her foot from the pile next to the bench. “Think you can get this one? Just need to catch my breath.”

“You want his help?” said the pierced woman with a laugh. “Sorry to break it to you, but the only thing he’s well-equipped to hurt is himself.”

“That’s a bit harsh,” said Jon. “Speaking of hurting yourself, why don’t you tell me about some of your jewelry?”

The pierced woman winced, and gave him an annoyed look. “We both know that’s not going to work on me, Archivist.”

“Perhaps not in your own little nest,” Jon argued. He stretched the limits of his focus on her, drawing on the growing, insistent hunger that was tying his insides to knots. “You said yourself that this is neutral territory, Ms… Daria, that was it. You wanted to talk, Daria. Let’s talk. Let’s hear about your last love, before the spiders. The sweet taste of poison on your lips. The holes driven through your body, your mind, your very being, by small and loathsome creatures you called friends. Tell me, Daria, did the spiders ever fill that space inside you after they collected what was left? Or is metal all you have to show for it?”

“You’re only slowing the inevitable, Archivist,” Daria said quickly. She shook very slightly, as though trying and failing to get away.

“How dare you threaten me with longing for my home,” Jon continued, “When you still dream of the hive? A love fermented into acid so sharp and vile that you’ll never taste anything so strong again. Not til the day your own corpse begins to rot around your tongue.”

“Ugh, Jesus,” Morgan exclaimed quietly next to him, but the words weren’t coming from inside Jon anymore, and he could not turn to look at her face. Every part of him was enraptured by drawing out whatever dark memories would keep Daria at bay. A noise like a tuning fork began to ring out from somewhere near Morgan’s voice. He wouldn’t have to hold her much longer.

“Mine will come for me,” said Daria. Tears were streaming down her face, leaving deep, steaming gouges in her skin. “And they’ll come for you, too. You’ve lost already. It doesn’t matter what you do to me.”

“Oh, I didn’t think it would,” Jon agreed, “But I’m pretty sure it’ll make me feel better to watch.”

Unfortunately, when Morgan cleaved Daria’s head from her shoulders with a red-hot violin bow, Jon felt no such thing.

[kaepop-trash]

Diagnosis

Rated: Fluff

Pairing: SichengxReader

Summary: Your supervising doctor really disliked you.

(A/N): It’s Winwin’s world and we’re all just living in it. This is small and stupid but we sometimes need one of those.

“He's had two seizures in the span of four hours and he's sweating profusely. Muscles have lost control, probably due to nerve damage.” Sicheng pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he read from his notes, “There is–” He continued but a figure pushed him aside, he looked around for the disruption, looking down to spot a resident doctor he recognised. When she realised everyone was looking, she looked up, eyelids twitching with realisation.

“Oh I didn't mean to interrupt you, please continue.” She gave him a thumbs up for motivation and went back to looking at the patient's arm closely.

“There is a significant loss of body heat. I'm certain.” He looked up at the doctor with determination, pushing his glasses back again with a small smug grin, “It's epilep–” His eyes sparkled.

“Wrong.” The girl scrutinizing the body stood up, brushing her coat and turning to him, “Sorry for the second interruption, but it's not. Epilepsy.” She dug under her nail bed. As a rule residents weren't allowed to have nails, and she usually picked on that.

“What makes you so certain?” He asked with knitted brows.

“He's heaving because his gag muscles are contracted, his lips are blue. It's alcohol poisoning.” She clicked her pen and scribbled into her notepad.

“All of those can easily be signs of epilepsy.” Sicheng defended. She looked back at him wordlessly.

“Yes, but he's sweating profusely, and it smells of liquor, tequila I think. So I'm sure my diagnosis is correct.” She said professionally, “An IV drip and some activated carbon should do it I think.” The doctor seemed impressed.

“Yes, but you completely bypass the rules of determining a diagno–” He started.

“But I'm right am I not?” She looked at the professor who nodded and Sicheng gripped his jaw.

“If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god.” He growled suddenly, she turned to him with wide eyes at the unexpected intensity. He turned his red face away, missing her amused smile.

It was that moment, she really could single out that one single moment as she ran across the ER at 4am in her pajamas and a half worn lab coat. She pushed the doors of the unit and rushed in, gazing around and catching a familiar figure, she scurried to his side.

“You asked for me?” It was the first time she spoke since waking up and her voice came like a croak, taking her a little by surprise.

“There's a patient who came in with chest pains. You're training to be a cardiac surgeon aren't you?” He looked at her momentarily before turning to the clipboard in hand and pretending to check.

“Yes, but I don't have a shift now.” She said hesitantly. He looked up, taking a second to asses her words and then look away.

“I wasn't aware of that.” He coughed uncomfortable, “Since you're here anyway, you should go ahead.” He encouraged and she nodded obediently but there was clear exasperation in her eyes. She turned to the sedated patient.

“I think it was a textbook heart attack, but you already knew that. You've given him Nitroglycerin.” She turned to him with sleepy eyes and raised a brow.

“How can you be sure?” He tilted his head and she scoffed.

“He'd be dead by now otherwise. I'll scrub in on the surgery since I'm up anyway, let's go.” She turned away from him, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing her complain.

“He thinks you undermine him.” One of the residents said matter of factly as she ate her cereal. (Y/N) looked up at her with sleepy eyes and frowned.

“We’re just the same specialisation you know, he got his PhD last year. Now he's a doctor and I still have a year left of my residence. What part of me undermines him?” She sighed and rested her head of the table.

“Maybe he's just tired and pissed from his new job and he takes it out on you.” Someone else on the table offered and she frowned deeper.

“That's not fair.” She turned to him and he shrugged.

“It doesn't need to be, you answer to him now. Just bite your tongue and bear with it. This is your last year as a resident.” He gave helpful advice that she nodded to with understanding.

She didn't understand how things turned out like this. As she sat silently beside Sicheng and both of them quietly ate ramen. It had become a ritual now, both had their break at the same time and ended up at the convenience store across the hospital. It was better than eating alone, but by no means was the silence between them a comfortable one. Her very skin seemed on edge around him, but inevitably he would come sit beside her to finish his mediocre meal.

It was one such evenings that she was sitting at the window, more tired than usual. She had scrubbed in on a nine hour surgery. Sicheng sat in front of her, wordlessly as usual. But this time he wordlessly placed a cup of coffee in front of her. She only looked up with part confusion from tiredness and part from the new situation.

“You look tired.” He said, inspecting his noodles, before he turned to her.

“Plus, I have already added your name for a surgery scheduled in an hour. It’s a unique case, you might be interested.” She wasn’t aware that her scowl was bad enough to make him cough and look away.

“I just finished up with one.” She whispered with defeat, Sicheng hesitated.

“The transplant?” He asked and winced when she nodded, having heard of it’s duration. He bit his lip.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t aware.” He looked away, cheeks dusted pink.

“It’s okay.” She said insincerely as she toyed with her ramen.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I'm sorry?” Sicheng lifted his sleepy head with a squint.

“If we find a girl cute Sicheng, we don't bury them in work.” Taeil said knowingly and Sicheng only furrowed his brows harder.

“How do you know she doesn't appreciate it? I call her for the rare cases you know.” He mumbled as he scooped more porridge into his mouth. Taeil smiled in amusement, he didn't even deny it.

“I may not be an expert, but I'm going to put myself out there and say that there is a possibility that she might think you're picking on her.” Taeil sipped on his burned coffee with a slightly prideful expression, he was, at the very least, better than Sicheng when it came to things like this. In fact Taeil was excited to tell the others, Sicheng had a crush and he was on the way to getting some liquid thrown at him by her.

“I'm telling you, I know what I'm doing. She's good at diagnosis.” He leaned in a little and his voice dropped, “Better than Dr. Oh.” He whispered and Taeil's eyes went wide.

“Yeah. She gives a basic diagnosis after just looking. It's like watching tv or something.” Sicheng was wide eyed in wonder as he explained and his friend was interested.

She wasn't sure what happened in the past week, but it seemed like her pager buzzed every other minute.

“You called?” She rushed into the ICU room, raising her brow at the crowd of first year residents.

“I was wondering if you would help with this diagnosis.” Doctor Seo asked politely, like it wasn't the same question every time. She buried her disbelief and walked up to him, taking the chart in his hands.

“It's head trauma of some kind?” He asked placing his index finger on his lower lip and looking down at the chart in her hand, “She might be brain dead from a lack of oxygen supply to the brain.” He conjectured further. She turned to him and listened carefully, when he finished she leaned forward and checked her pupils.

“Her pupils are dilating fine, she's not brain dead.” Her face was heavy in scrutiny as she glanced at the person carefully, before reading the chart.

“It says here that she was feeling very thirsty before she collapsed. I think she might have untreated hyperglycemia, it's not outlandish for a lady in her age. I think a test should determine that easily.” She reminded herself to smile politely and bow, before making her way towards the door.

“I'm sorry Doctor Seo, but Doctor Kim asked for me urgently.” She bowed again and made her way out.

She truly felt at her wits end, it was frankly the last straw. She stood in front of the schedule put up and saw her name included in a surgery that was scheduled tonight. It was too bad that tomorrow was the Lunar New year and she had intended to go home for the weekend. Her head dropped as she walked through the halls.

“Ah, Dr. (Y/L/N). Dr. Kim informed that he wants you present at the surgery tonight. He usually doesn't take residents, you must be excited.” There seemed to be smug tone in his voice but she was too tired to care. Having been acknowledged by another person, she had no choice but to stop. Then, the moment she looked up to try to give a disingenuous reply but her head spun when she picked it up too fast. Her vision blurred for a second but she put a hand on the wall to straighten herself.

“I just have to check on a patient Doctor, then I'll be on my way.” Her voice seemed light and it took her a moment to realise that the wall she was holding onto was cloth and the person in front of her was Doctor Sicheng.

“Are you okay?” His voice was small but concerned, she thought she tried to smile.

“Perfect, thanks for asking. I have a surgery, maybe we should get ramen after.” She laughed, but her head seemed to heavy and kept trying to fall back.

“Right. (Y/N) I'm going to pick you up now, please try not to move.” His voice seemed to ring in her ears and she pouted with pity, it was probably the longest sentence he'd said to her.

The neon lights of the cafeteria made her squint her eyes as she sat with her legs propped up with hand on her temples and her elbow on her knee. Her tongue felt salty as she felt the pressure of the IV in her left arm, she quietly sipped on her lemonade as Sicheng watched her.

“You're dehydrated and your blood pressure was frightfully low. Something dangerous could have happened if I–” He paused eyes growing a little wide before he sat back, “If someone wasn't there. You should take better care of yourself.” His voice showed genuine concern but she looked up exasperated.

“I haven't slept more than 3 hours each day in the past month.” She mumbled, looking away.

“When is your next day off?” He asked and she turned back to him.

“Today. But I got scrubbed in.” She raised a knowing brow at him and he looked away.

“I'm sorry if I did anything to offend or undermine you. I was just doing my job, but you're being unfair to me.” She said a little softly and Sicheng seemed to turn back speechless.

“I'm sorry?” His voice was a little too quick and she winced.

“You think I give you work to prove my authority over you?” He asked, looking a little hurt and she was raised to silence. Said like that, she definitely heard how ridiculous it sounded. She turned to her left arm and winced.

“I think the flow is too rapid.” She lightly tugged on the Catheter and he put a swift hand on hers.

“You'll dislodge it, let me check.” He said without looking at her and she nodded.

She felt too awkward to apologise, but still wondered if at least part of her rationale was true.

“I thought you'd appreciate been given more responsibility. I suggested your name to Dr. Oh for residents to hire next year, but he said he'd never noticed you. I'm sorry, I realise I should have at least informed you. I thought I'd sweep you away.” He laughed awkwardly as he fumbled with the clamp, “I guess I also wanted to spend time with you.” When the pressure felt comfortable she lifted her other arm and tugged on the sleeve of his coat. He looked up with large lost eyes and hers seem to mirror his.

“Would you like to go for dinner with me? It's the New Year now, we didn't need to scrub in for the surgery.” He said a with a sudden rush of bravery, she could tell he was bracing himself when her face fell.

“I was hoping I'd take the night train home.” She smiled sheepishly, but a moment later his words rang in her head again and her cheeks turned pink.

“Did you just ask me out?” She looked up back at him again and he looked away.

“No.” He said too quickly, only when he looked back did he see her face fall.

“Oh.” She said a little insincerely.

“No, I mean yes. I am.” He groaned internally at his smooth ways, externally he gave her another smile.

“I've never met someone who knows as many symptoms as you. It's kind of hot.” He admitted and she took a moment of being wide eyed to adjust to his words before she laughed.

“You're trying to flirt with me!” She said like it only just occurred to her, he was a little hurt.

“Doctor D–” She smiled.

“Call me Sicheng. That's my name.” He mumbled again and she stuttered.

“Sicheng. I promise to go on dinner with you tonight if you find less exhausting ways for us to spend time together.” She smiled, before she thought over something.

“And if you drop me to the station in the morning.” She added quickly, he had a car.

Sicheng seemed almost excited at the idea, and he had to admit: so attracted to her as she confidently asked what he had failed to this entire year.

“Nothing would make me happier.” He assured her

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

Horror’s Ultimate | AUish!Carlton Drake x Reader

Horror’s Ultimate | AUish!Carlton Drake x Reader

Words: 6,939 (Yup)

Warning: Car crash, injuries, some swearing, angst, slight dark themes (but, you know, it’s Carlton Drake and it’s Venom-verse).

A/N: There’s references to The Brain that Wouldn’t Die (1962), Frankenstein, and the Night Of. I’m already thinking of fanfic ideas for the latter. This idea had been in my head for awhile and since it’s Riz Ahmed’s bday on Dec. 1, I decided to upload it around that time.

Summary: You and your fiance Carlton Drake were on your way home when a storm hit, causing the car to veer off the road. When you come to, you were the most injured, unable to move your body. Carlton swears he’ll do anything to make you better again, and you fear he’ll do exactly what you warned him not to do.

-

You crossed your arms as you stood to the side of your boyfriend’s office as he talked animatedly to his lab workers. After they started the human trials, there had been progress with the surviving subjects and he ordered them to take the tests further. It was a huge scientific breakthrough and he wanted progress to happen fast. He was brilliant, but you didn’t think he would forget the basics this often. The fact that he pushed for human trials after testing on animals was a large sign. You weren’t allowed in the “cells”, as you called it, but you had a hunch of what kinds of conditions those people were in. You insisted that they were kept healthy and well fed while they were monitored, knowing that health always plays a factor in these kinds of tests.

The workers were soon dismissed and you were left alone with Carlton. He was smiling to himself as he packed his things, practically humming, in fact. You stepped towards him, walking around his desk to lean your head on his shoulder. He hummed, kissing the top of your head.

“We are making history,” he said, packing the last of his things into his work bag. “Soon, we won’t even have to deal with sickness, with this dying planet, (Y/n).”

“Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself?” you asked, grabbing the bag from him.

He wrapped an arm around your waist so that you were completely facing him. “This is big, (Y/n). Once we find out how to achieve perfect symbiosis with these creatures, we could have the ability to live up there!”

“I guess finding a way to stop global climate change and replenishing natural resources takes a lot more time and money than taking a rocket and bonding with gooey aliens,” you deadpanned, scrunching your nose.

“If you put it that way, you make me sound like a mad man who doesn’t want to deal with this planet anymore.”

“That is exactly what you are, though.” All he did was shrug.

“Humanity keeps failing again and again. We can find a new planet out there. There’s tons already discovered. When we figure out the types of conditions these symbiotes can withstand, we could choose a livable planet to settle on and build a new civilization there.” He leaned in closer, pressing his forehead against yours. “Those problems that exists in this world wouldn’t exist in our new world. No sickness, no injury. We’d have new strength and abilities. Practically a new species.”

You sighed. “I just don’t want you to be reckless. I know you joke about me watching too many sci-fi horror, but there’s some truth to them. Don’t go messing around with something you don’t know and can’t control. These are different life forms. We don’t know anything about them besides what we see in the lab. We don’t know what their planet was like and how their societal system works. We don’t know if they’ll fully cooperate with us.”

Carlton nodded, kissing your forehead. “I’ll take that in mind when it gets to that point,” he said dismissively. “Right now, we have some binge watching to do, remember?” He grabbed your hand and lead you out the office. “What was that show you wanted to watch?”

“Ooh, The Night Of!” you said excitedly, using the distraction to push your worries away. “My favorite actor is in it!”

Carlton rolled his eyes. “Is that the only reason you wanted to watch that show? So you can drool over a guy on screen?”

You smacked him on the arm. “How long have you known me? We’re going to get married soon, so you should be used to this by now. Besides, he looks a lot like you.”

“Whatever you say, future Mrs. Drake.”

-

The weather was a lot rougher than the news reported, rain beating down on the car like you were going through a waterfall. Carlton cursed as the windshield wipers tried to keep up with the rain. You weren’t even halfway into town when a blurred figure ran across the road. Carlton swerved, missing the figure but lost traction on the road. Your stomach lurched as the car tumbled into the nearby treeline. You grabbed onto the door and your seat tightly in your attempts to ready for impact.

The last thing you heard was Carlton’s shout before everything went black.

You felt heavy, your head still spinning as you came to. The bright light stung your eyes, making you rapidly blink the adjust. There was a monitor nearby, beeping fast as you try to figure out where you were. You couldn’t feel your body, you couldn’t move your hands or feet. You could barely turn your head. You managed to let out a cry, tears already falls and wetting your ears and your hair.

“Ca-Carl… Carlton.” Your voice was hoarse, your throat stinging from the effort.

“Oh, my god, (Y/n), sweetie, I’m here,” you heard your fiance’s voice.

You heard a woosh as a door opened, Carlton rushing towards your side, cut and bruises littering his face and hands. His fingers gently brushed your hair out of your face and wiping your tears.

“I thought I lost you,” he breathed. “I managed to carry you out of the wreckage and back to the lab. There’s… a serum that I’ve worked on before we discovered the symbiotes. It was to prolong the patient’s life until they could receive the cure. It worked to some extent, but I hadn’t continued that research in a while, but it does work. Give me time and I can make you better, okay?”

You let out a whimper. “I’m paralyzed, aren’t I? Please, Carlton…” You began to break down again.

Carlton hesitated. “Do you want the truth?”

“Carlton-”

“Your body was pretty banged up… the car tumbled and ran into a tree on your side. You were practically pinned down. The security patrolling came as soon as they heard the crash and helped me. If you were to go to a hospital… you would have already been gone. I’m not going to let that happen. I can make you better,” he insisted. He cupped your cheek. “Just stay with me, okay. I don’t want to see my world without you.”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” you pleaded.

He said nothing, giving a gentle kiss to your lips before leaving you alone in the room. You closed your eyes, fighting the urge to scream.

-

Carlton would come in every day to check up on you and your vitals. Each time, he refused to tell you the extent of the damage, assuring you that once your wounds healed, the team could try physical therapy for you. While you lay there, each day, unable to move, your heart felt heavier and heavier. He couldn’t tell you what was going on and you weren’t allowed any visitors besides the doctors that worked at the facility. Dr. Skirth, you became a dear friend to you, would come in to check on you during the times Carlton couldn’t. It took a little persuasion to get her to tell you about the serum that Carlton made.

“It’s… initially created for patients who needed transplant but have to wait longer than their live expectancy to receive it. It keeps their vital stable by using fast adapting antibodies to make up for the missing organs. At least, that’s what I’ve been told. He hoped that with this serum, patients wouldn’t even have to wait for a compatible transplant, that it would help the body accept the new body parts. It hasn’t worked so far to that extent,” Dr. Skirth said quietly, adjusting the small TV you requested at the end of your bed.

You remained silent for a moment, allowing her words to sink in. Then you asked her, “What happened to me?”

Dr. Skirth stepped back from the bed. “Um, Dr. Drake told us not to worry you-”

“What happened to me?” you repeated firmly.

“Most… ,” she paused, looking around, then stepped closer to you. “Most of the bones in your body has been severely damaged and punctured a few of your vital organs. The serum and the anesthetics pumping into you are what’s keeping you alive until he figures out how to heal you completely.”

“No sickness… no injury,” you muttered under your breath as you continued to stare straight ahead. You knew what he was planning. He was going to use a symbiote to heal you.

“Are you… are you okay, (Y/n)? Do you want me to bring something to you? Or call Carlton?” Dr. Skirth asked softly.

“No… and I won’t tell on you, either. Thank you, Dora. You seemed to be the only one I trust here,” you said, leaning into the pillow. “I think I’ll rest for now, but can you turn on the TV at low volume. I need some ambient noise right now.”

“Sure thing. Just let me know if you need anything else.” She did as you requested and left without a word.

Your eyelids grew heavy as the black and white movie began.

“Let me die!” The woman shouted from the small TV. “Let me die!”

There were times when you’d dream about the crash. The rain pouring, the tires screeching, the world spinning outside the window, and Carlton struggling at the wheel. Then you’d dream about the quiet moments in your shared apartment, watching a movie and eating ice cream, Carlton mumbling about wedding plans after he finishes the project, his head resting on your chest as you lay on the couch, running your fingers through his dark hair. Then, gradually, he started to disappear, your fingers touching thin air and his weight leaving you, but you still couldn’t move. His body was replaced with searing hot metal and foliage and smoke, pinning and choking you.

You gasped awake, finding yourself sitting up. Slowly, you turn your head as far it could go and saw that the bed had inclined while you slept. Wincing, you turn your head to the other side and saw the machines that were hooked up to you on a small table nearby. Looking down, you saw that your body was covered neatly with a white blanket, tucked to the sides of the bed with your arms still at your sides and out of sight. Your temple started to ache as you looked around the room, a long window pane on one wall catching your attention. The machinery next to you started to whine as your vision seemed to go beyond the glass.

No doubt, you were in the one of the high-security labs, one of the “cells”. Down the hallway were more cells with people contained in various conditions. Many of them were curled up in the corner of their room, a few showing signs of unstable vitals. Your vision pulled back as Carlton came walking down the corridor looking pissed, a few of his security team trailing behind him.

“He left the building. We’ll make sure he’ll never set foot in here again,” one of the guards assured him.

“When I’m through with him, he’ll never set foot in any news channel again,” Carlton snapped, unbuttoning his suit jacket. A doctor scurried to his side and fell into step with him. “How is she?”

“She’s just woken up. Everything is looking stable, but we’re having some strange readings from-”

“So she should be ready for the symbiote, right?” The question was posed in a way that dared the poor doctor to object.

“I, uh, yes, sir.”

“Good, ready the symbiote today,” Carlton ordered.

The doctor nodded, heading straight to his research team. You followed on the doctor’s trail, the corridors growing dimmer as he went deeper into the lab where the cells were long empty, a few had clean-up crews cleaning the glass and the floors of a strange gooey substance. He entered a working station, a fortified glass capsule sitting in the middle containing a gooey, webby, writhing dark orange-ish thing that looked ready to crawl out and attack the first thing it sees. There appeared to be liquid being fed into the capsule, similar to the ones being pumped into you.

“(Y/n),” a deep voice growled from the capsule, making you pull back.

“(Y/n)!” you heard Carlton’s voice called out.

You opened your eyes slowly, taking in his relaxed demeanor despite what had transpired a minute ago. You forced the corner of your lips to lift as he came over to your side and kissed your forehead. As he pulled away, you dropped it and studied his face.

“It’s almost ready, (Y/n)! When the procedure is over, you can be better again and we can get married and travel and-”

“What’s this liquid you’re pumping into me? You’ve never mentioned this before,” you said.

Carlton paused, then laughed. “Well, it was still a work in progress, remember. I wanted to tell you when it was complete. This version of the serum is injected into the bloodstream and affects the lymphoid tissues, addressing the antibodies that attack foreign tissues efficiently without any harmful side effects.”

“Why not develop this serum instead of feeding humans to these alien symbiotes like a machine until there was a match?” you argued.

“I’ve tried. There’s seemed to be something missing and the symbiotes are still…,” he paused, “aren’t agreeing with the hosts.”

“They’re killing them from the inside and you plan to put one of those in me?” you asked incredulously.

You tried to move and found that you weren’t able to move your neck. Whatever happened a few minutes ago, it was through your mind, that much was clear. You debated on whether you should bring it up to Carlton. Evidently, he wasn’t aware of this particular side effect.

He laid a hand on yours. “It will work this time. I’m trying the serum on the symbiotes as well. Without a host, the symbiotes die within minutes.  It’s like a parasite.” There was a pain in your temple as you heard a growl in your head. You ground your teeth as you tolerated the pain. “Are you alright?”

“This is crazy, Carlton,” you said shakily, “I don’t want to be lying here as doctors constantly observe me. I can’t even move anything but my face. But… I don’t want some alien thing forced into my body either. You haven’t had a successful experiment, yet, and you’re just going to put that thing in me?”

Carlton sighed. “I understand your concerns. If you want, I can delay it, but I can… I can only keep you alive for so long until the serum lose sufficiency. You need to decide soon.”

The following nights, you tried your new powers again, sweeping the dark corners of the lab that Carlton kept hidden from you. Every time, you ended up in that one room with the glass capsule, the symbiote calling you. You tried to reach out to it.

“What do they call you?” you asked it.

“They called me Scream,” it said in an almost feminine-like voice.

“How many of you are here?”

“There were many, but we’re dying. There are much, much more where we come from. This is nothing.”

“Why do you kill your hosts? Don’t you need them to survive in our environment?”

“The hosts lacks the nutrients that we need. When we’re hungry, we eat what is available: pancreas, kidneys, lungs. The brain… the brain is the most delicious part,” Scream practically purred.

It should have unsettled you, but it came at no surprise that there was something that Carlton overlooked because of his impatience. “And why is that?” you persisted.

“You humans call it… phenethylamine. It keeps us sane and healthy. It is also found in-”

“Chocolate,” you finished, suppressing the urge to roll your eyes at the simple solution that could have saved so many lives in the highly advanced facility.

“Which is more socially acceptable here in this world.”

“Quite.” You thought for a moment. “Let’s say I stock up in phenethylamine in my body. Does that mean we’d be able to achieve symbiosis, given that my body is also kept relatively healthy?”

“And the fact that I’m starting to like you… yes, in theory.”

You sighed. “If Carlton insists I go through this… how do you feel about being here? Seeing your kind being studied and tested and dying?”

There was a pause. “We were trained as soldiers. Death should not affect us, but a soldier should not go out like this. I would normally follow my leader’s orders, although reluctant, but he is not here.”

“When we bond, do you want to put an end to this? This facility? Being constantly poked and prodded? Following orders you don’t agree with?”

Another pause. “Yes.”

“You have the power and strength while I have my body and mind. We need to work together on this to stop Carlton from killing more people.”

-

“Can I have some chocolate while I’m here?” you casually asked Carlton as he sat next to you, playing The Night Of on his laptop.

He hummed. “Sure,” he said, pulling out his phone to text one of his assistants. After the text was sent, he turned back to the show. “I don’t see it.”

“What?”

“The similarity. You said I looked like him.” He pointed at the main character as he tries to survive prison. “I don’t see it.”

You wished you could turn your head to give him an incredulous expression, but settled with raising an eyebrow.

“Are you kidding me? He looks so much like you. Probably cuter.” An assistant rushed in with two boxes of chocolate and made to hand them to Carlton. You wanted to snatch it away, realizing how much you missed indulging in junk food. Despite your will, your hands wouldn’t move. Instead, you opened your mouth expectantly, waiting for Carlton to feed you.

He held a piece of chocolate up. “How is he cuter?” he asked, taunting you with the sweet candy.

“Well, if you stopped frowning-”

“He’s in prison, getting addicted to drugs. He’s been brooding the whole time,” he argued. “I don’t brood.”

You snorted as your response. “Your the type of person that would sell someone to satan for one corn chip.”

Normal conversations like these made you conflicted. Do you still care for him after what he’s done? No, what he’s doing in this lab is inhumane. He had given up on humanity when he started this project. It’s evident in his reactions towards another failed experiment, how he was angry when the “intelligent life-form” died, instead of being angry over the death of the human subject.

You were growing frustrated as Carlton teased you with the chocolate.  “Give me the chocolate, Carlton Drake.”

“Okay, okay.”

He fed you the chocolate then looked down as he ran his thumb along the back of your hand, knowing you couldn’t feel it, but it was more to comfort himself than you. He knew you didn’t approve with his methods, but once you get better, maybe you will.

“You need to decide soon, (y/n/n),” he suddenly said, “I don’t know how long the serum will work. The readings are showing that it’s already been weakening. (Y/n)-”

“I’ll do it,” you said with a sigh. “I don’t seem to have any other choice.”

Carlton smiled in relief, leaning over to kiss you. “You’re going to get better once it’s done, then you’ll see why I need to see this project through.”

“Okay,” was all you said, directing your attention back to the show.

“Okay? Just okay? Before, you wanted to argue about using symbiotes. I know you’re agreeing to use it, but I feel like you would’ve had more input in it,” Carlton said, studying your face.

“What do you expect me to say, Car? I’m nervous as it is about this procedure… but if something does go wrong, will you still continue with this project?” You wanted to see how far he’ll go with this project, if an accident like that would ever stop him, or if he’ll keep going in an obsessed rampage. You even considered allowing the bonding to go wrong, or at least fake it.

“Nothing will go wrong. I’ll make sure of that,” he said firmly. “The serum should help the bonding, so the symbiote won’t reject the host.”

“The serum won’t be enough,” Scream hissed in your mind.

You grimaced, opening your mouth for more chocolate, to which he complied. Once he leaves, you planned to try and reach out to the other symbiotes in the lab.

-

Unfortunately, that reporter, Eddie Brock, had other plans that night.

“Something’s off,” Scream told you.

It was unusual to see Dr. Skirth at the lab late at night and she certainly didn’t have a reason to check on you when you’re already stable. You watched through your mind as she shoved the reporter into the lab, allowing him to take pictures of each containment. The woman in the cold climate cell turned towards the window and ran towards the glass, calling out to him. You mentally face-palmed as Eddie fumbled with the security pad, setting off the alarm. He took the nearest object, a fire extinguisher, and smashed the glass open, allowing the woman to charge at him. You sucked in a breath as the symbiote in her transferred to Eddie before she collapsed. He managed to escape the guards and the facility within minutes with the help of the symbiote.

Carlton was alerted not too long afterwards, the woman placed on a stretcher as Dr. Skirth remained quiet. He threatened the head of security to find his Symbiote, unconcerned about another human death.

Scream had let out a chuckle. “What is it?” you asked.

“I know who is with that man. Venom. He was a loser back home,” she said. “He could also be an ally.”

You woke up the next day as the door hissed open, Carlton rushing in again. He looked tensed, pacing around the room and checking all of the equipment. He let out a long ragged breath, running a hand through his hair as he studied your face, as if he was figuring out what to say.

You’ve seen him frustrated many times before and many times, you would comfort him, offering solutions and your own perspective. You considered telling him about the phenethylamine and about Scream. If you tell him what you’ve discovered, he’ll continue with the project, but the chances of success will be higher. Maybe his plans would actually work…

“No, this needs to end,” Scream interrupted. “Your sentiment for him is clouding your mind. When my leader finds this place, he’ll send more of our kind and invade this planet. Everyone follows his lead and he will never allow the humans to have complete control of their bodies once we’re bonded.”

“We need to do it today,” Carlton said, walking up to your bed.

“Do you share those thoughts with your kind?” you asked Scream.

There was a pause. “No. This project, this facility, and my kind trapped here, all needs to be destroyed.”

“Okay,” you said to Carlton. “Let’s get it over with.”

The research team wheeled in the capsule, the orange-ish goo writhing inside. Carlton leaned down and whispered words of comfort before kissing you. He nodded to the team, excusing them, then turned back for another kiss. It was hard and shaky, as if he was holding back all those emotions that threatened to spill out from the intimate act. He didn’t want to doubt himself. He wasn’t one to express himself openly, but he had tried to let those walls down when he’s around you. Yet, ever since the crash, he maintained this air of confidence that he always shown at work, that his ideas will change the world and all those mistakes were necessary to achieve those ideas. That was only a part of Carlton.

“I miss you,” you said as he pulled away. You missed all of him and if he was going to let that one side take over, he won’t be the same Carlton Drake anymore. If he can’t drop this project, he was lost to you.

“I’m right here,” he said, confused.

“No, I don’t think you are,” you wanted to say.

He frowned as you remained silent, planting one last kiss on your forehead before leaving the room. “Open it,” you heard him say as the doors closed.

The glass panel on the capsule slid open, allowing the symbiote to launch itself towards you. You sucked in a breath as Scream crawled over your chest and seemingly absorbed into you. True to her name, it made you scream, and scream, and scream, as your bones shifted in place and your organs were mended. The sensation reached your head, momentarily clouding your eyes, then it stopped, and you suddenly feel like you could do anything. Power now coursed through your body and it made you feel almost invincible.

“Hello, (Y/n),” Scream purred.

“Don’t make me regret this,” you said in your mind.

“I can see why you like him, that Carlton Drake,” she said, “too bad he’s gone mad… but he’s cute, though. I kind of don’t want to kill him. Make him our servant, (Y/n).”

“We need to plan first,” you said, feigning indifference. You began to move your arms and legs, relief flooding through you.

“Don’t lie, you like that idea. I’m in your body, remember?” Scream teased.

The door hissed open, Carlton rushing to your side as you swung your legs off the bed. “Whoa, be careful,” he said, holding your arms to steady you. “How do you feel?”

“Like I can do anything,” you breathed, standing up as he kept his hands on you for balance.

“The readings are stable. You’ve achieved symbiosis, (y/n/n)! We want to wait one more day to make sure everything’s okay. You’re okay?”

“Yes, I just want to go home. No more driving through rainstorms.”

“No more driving through any storms.”

“We are the storm,” Scream purred in your mind.

“Very original.”

“You love that quote.”

“Can you stay with me?” you asked Carlton, resting a hand on his shoulder.

You used your best puppy-eye look as he hesitated. You wrapped your arms around his waist and leaned into him. He needs to be distracted so they won’t find Eddie in time. He looked at the window, then back at you.

“I’m busy…,” he said, then quickly added, “but I’ll come back as soon as I’m free.”

“Can you bring food and chocolate? A lot of food and chocolate? I’m really hungry.”

“Anything for you,” he said with a reassuring smile.

“Anything?” you asked, your arms moving on their own, pulling him down for a kiss as Scream chuckled.

He let out a small groan and he made the kiss deeper, wrapping his arms around you. As he broke the kiss to breathe, he reluctantly pushed you at arms length.

“I need to go, but we will continue this once you’re given clearance.”

“Yes, please.” Carlton walked back out of the room, gesturing you to sit back down on the bed.

“We’re definitely making him our servant,” Scream said.

“You made me kiss him,” you defended.

“I moved your arms, I didn’t move your lips.”

“I have a twisted mind.”

“You already knew you were going to hell.”

You sighed. “When do we start?”

“Venom will likely make another scene. We use that to start moving, taking care of the labs, the data, and that horrid space station. The leader is on the move, I can feel it. He’ll find Carlton and use his space station to retrieve more of our kind down to Earth.”

“And who is this leader?”

“Riot.”

-

As always, whenever you tried to make a plan, Eddie fucking Brock does something. Scream had predicted this, but who knew that he’d end up losing Venom before you could reach out to him? After a day of observation, you were clear to go home. Once you reached your’s and Carlton’s home, you flopped onto the bed and wrapped yourself in a blanket burrito, never wanting to go into his lab again, even though you have to eventually.

Scream would interrupt your naps, urging you to find food. You found a seafood market, buying squid and octopus each time. Alive, of course. You’d made rice and rinsed the squirming food in a strainer, ignoring Scream as she told you to hurry up. Once the rice was finished, you’d dumped it into a large bowl along with the food, pouring shoyu over them. Grabbing the largest spoon in the kitchen drawer, you’d plop yourself down in front of the TV as the news replayed Carlton’s hired guards chasing Eddie Brock around San Francisco again. You currently slurped a tentacle down as you switched channels.

Your phone suddenly rang, Dora Skirth’s name popping up on the caller ID. Frowning, you picked up the phone to hear heavy breathing.

“Dora? Is everything okay?” you asked slowly.

“Oh, thank god, (Y/n). Listen, he doesn’t know I’m alive and… I don’t know. I don’t know what to do. I’m scared. I thought I was going to die, (Y/n)! He tried to murder me!” Dora panicked.

“Shh, calm down. What’s going on?”

“I let Eddie Brock into the lab-”

“I know, I saw. And Carlton found out?”

“How did you know?”

“A side effect he didn’t know would produce from his little serum.”

“I’m… in Chinatown, near Eddie Brock’s apartment. I didn’t know where else to go, but he’s not here. The symbiote, Agony, keeps wanting food and if I don’t eat any living thing then they’ll start eating me and I can’t go home and endanger the kids and…”

“Eat a lot of chocolate and live seafood is your best bet,” you told her. “I’m glad you’re safe, Dora, but how is Agony? Do you know what they were planning?”

“They… they don’t want anything to do with Riot’s plans anymore. That’s why they helped fake my death and we escaped the facility. I don’t want to go back there, (Y/n).” You could hear her trying to steady her breath.

“No,” Scream whispered suddenly.

“What?”

“Riot’s almost here in San Francisco.”

You thought for a moment. “Would it be possible for the host to purposely reject the symbiote?”

“No, even if we do manage to get through to Carlton, Riot will threatened to tear him up from the inside. He probably will if he doesn’t give him what he wants or when he’s done with him,” Scream spat.

“You don’t seem to like your leader that much.”

“No, he is a lot more than what Carlton has become. A visionary that strings people along with their confidence and charisma, ridding anything and anyone that gets in their way, especially those who continuously disappoint them.”

“You initially wanted to kill Carlton. What changed your mind?”

“You were convinced you wanted to kill him, too, but I know you wouldn’t. You still think you can save him even when he’s slipping away from you. You’re too… kind and generous. You knew he was doing human trials and you didn’t make a huge scene, only argued in private. Even then, you gave in. You think you’re equally as horrible for allowing this to happen. Honestly, it’s depressing in your head, but I’ll help you until we know that he’s a lost cause. I will take over and kill him when it comes to it.”

“So should we get Venom back?”

“Nah, I think he’ll find his way back to Eddie. He’s a loser, but he’s resourceful. We should meet up with him, though. You ready for a test drive?”

“(Y/n)?” you heard Dora say.

You hold your phone back up to your ear and grimaced. “You’re going to have to go back there. I need your help, and if Agony is on our side, this could work.”

“What do we need to do?”

“Destroy the lab and all its data.”

-

Travelling via rooftops seemed very convenient and avoids traffic. You raced passed streets, trying to find Venom. Scream remained alert, honing in on him and found that he was using a car to get to the facility. You heard her sighed in frustration as he sped through traffic, clipping countless vehicles as he passed.

“We’ll reach Eddie before him at this rate,” She said, launching you several feet in front of the car.

“Holy shit!” you shouted, stepping back as the car screeched to a halt. You peered through the windshield and saw who the host was. “Annie?”

“Oh my god, (Y/n), get in!” The blonde urged.

You rushed to the passenger’s seat and held onto the door as she instantly pressed on the gas. Your hand shot out and took over the steering, Scream deeming Venom incompetent in driving.

“So, uh, you’ve got one of those, too?” Anne asked, still trying not to freak out about the recent events.

“Huh, oh, yeah. I was in a car crash with Carlton and I was banged up pretty bad and he used this sci-fi serum and had me bond with this symbiote, whom I’ve acquainted with prior to the whole… thingy, and now we’re just trying to fix this mess that these incompetent and ridiculous men have done,” you said casually, Scream taking full control of the steering wheel while Anne leaned back.

“Who’s Scream? Venom, who’s Scream?” Anne muttered.

You feel Scream surface, covering half of your face, causing Anne to yelp. “That will be me,” Scream said, then went back inside.

“That feels funky,” you said, shaking it off.

“You’ll get used to it,” Venom and Scream said at the same time.

The car finally reached the facility, stopping at the edge of the woods. You climbed out of the car and stumbled, feeling your heart race. You leaned against the car as Anne rushed to your side.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

You nodded. “It’s just… the crash was around here.”

“We’ll get Eddie. Go and stop Riot,” Venom said, covering Anne’s body.

“You can’t tell me what to do, loser,” Scream playfully jabbed, also covering your body. Venom humphed, then jumped into the trees. “Let’s go.”

“Was there a thing between you two?” You asked.

“Shut up.”

-

Riot was already putting his plan into motion, having Carlton head straight to the control center of the space station. You rushed down the corridor, the sound of your shoes bouncing off the massive tunnel walls. Normally, you would have started bogging out at the speed you were going, but with the help of Scream and your determination of reaching Carlton pushed you forward with a renewed energy.

“Carlton!” you shouted after him.

He turned around, his eyes widened. “(Y/n), you shouldn’t be here,” he said, a hand shooting out to steady you as you caught up to him, panting.

“Please don’t do this, Carlton,” you pleaded, cupping your hands on his cheeks.

“I don’t know what you mea-” he staggered back, a rusty colored symbiote taking over his body and hulked over you.

“Scream! Get Venom and get on that ship!” The symbiote commanded.

You could feel Scream snap, allowing her to take over as well. “No! We are not letting you do this to the humans!” She spat.

“We? Who is we? Tell me their names so I can punish you all for betraying us!” Scream stood her ground. “Scream, always so disobedient and undisciplined. There was a time where we used to share the same thoughts. Now look how sentimental you’ve gotten. You need to know your place!” He raised a giant fist and swung straight towards you and Scream until he froze, growling in frustration as he stumbled back.

“What’s happening?” You asked Scream.

“I think… Carlton is trying to fight him off,” She said softly.

Riot morphed back into Carlton, who looked disoriented and ragged. He exhaled a long shaky breath, then turned to you as Scream retreated back into your body.

“(Y/n), please. I… I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

“It’s already hurting me seeing you like this,” you said, lifting a hand to touch his arm.

He flinched away. “I need to do this. I have to do this. I… I…”

He pulled at his hair in frustration, a habit that his staff had never associated him with. He was always cool and composed until he snapped. When nothing was going as planned, when people were being incompetent, when he started to have self doubts. That was the Carlton you knew he tried to suppress. After years of being looked down on, being silenced, for his ideas to be called foolish and crazy, it was more than the planet dying for him to lose faith in humanity.

“Do you want to do this?” you challenged. “At some point, have you ever thought that maybe you’ve gone too far?”

“Even if I have, (Y/n), it’s too late to go back. It’s like you said. You were always right and I was always stubborn, but it’s too late.” He sniffed and looked away. “You were going to marry a Frankenstein.”

“Man, how ignorant art thou in thy pride for wisdom,” you recalled from the book. “You were obsessed with this project, Car. It’s killing you… Everything has an ultimate, even horror. In our story, I still don’t know who or what it is.”

Carlton fully turned his back towards you and cleared his throat. “You need to go, (Y/n). Please. I can’t do this anymore. What we had was over, but you knew that and yet you tried. We both know I don’t deserve you, and that is the last time I’ll ever admit that I was wrong. From here on out, everything is set and absolute in my decisions. I don’t need you anymore.”

He began to walk away before he could hear you cry, almost in foolish denial of him being the reason that you cried and break your heart. All he wanted was to make you happy. That can no longer happen and the both of you had to accept that in that moment. He was gone to you.

“I don’t think I can do this,” you whispered shakily to Scream. “He’s really gone, but I can’t…”

Scream remained surprisingly silent as you stood in the middle of the tunnel, watching him leave.

It felt like forever, but you’ve snapped out of your daze as alarms went off. You looked around as people started to evacuate the building. You jumped into action, helping them out of the building through the fastest route, using Scream to punch through the walls that would only slow them down to go around. They had a moment of fear as they saw you, but proceeded to evacuate. Down the hall, you could see Anne rushing towards you.

“Eddie’s fighting Riot right now!” she said quickly. “We need to do something.”

“Need a lift?” you asked, letting Scream surface.

The two of you picked up Anne with a large hand and launched yourself forward towards the control center. You set her down and morphed back into your normal state, observing the destruction that Riot had done. Anne rushed over to the comm panel and fiddled with the controls. You walked next to her and turned on the speakers, knowing what she was doing.

“Brace yourself,” Anne said, nodding to the back of the room.

You did so, covering your ears, then nodded to her. She amplified the volume of the outside speakers, the screeching noise also reaching you and Scream as the both of you doubled over in pain. You felt like you were being ripped apart on all sides.

“Told you I could fight dirty,” Anne muttered to herself as she turned the speakers off. She rushed to your side and helped you up. “You okay?”

You nodded, holding your head in your hands. “You okay, Scream?”

“I’ve been better,” She said. “But we need to get out there. Eddie and Venom are in trouble.”

You nodded then turned to Anne. “Dr. Skirth should be at the lab. Go there and make sure that this facility or anyone makes this mistake again. Shut it down and destroy this place.”

“Okay, be careful.”

-

Scream had taken over, jumping down to the platform, seeing Venom lying in a pile. You extended a hand out, allowing him to crawl on you as you helped get to Eddie. He lied unconscious as a large blade that looked to be from Riot ran through his stomach. You knelt down and touched his shoulder gently, Venom crawling out to bond with Eddie again. Once it was done, Eddie gasped for breath, pulling the large blade out. Venom and Scream jumped onto the rocket as Riot climbed in. You cursed, urging Scream to pull Carlton out of him once you realized what Venom planned to do. Scream rammed a hand through the glass and grabbed Riot, hanging on as he struggled. Suddenly, half of his face peeled off, revealing Carlton underneath.

“Leave me,” was all he said before Riot took over again, pushing you and Scream off of the rocket as Venom ran the blade through the metal, letting the rocket fuel spill out.

“Nooo!!” Riot screamed as the rocket launched, the fuel catching on to the flames below and causing the rocket to explode.

It all happened in slow motion as both you and Eddie plummeted to the ocean, your respective symbiotes using themselves as parachutes to slow the fall.

“Goodbye, Carlton.”

-

A/N: It’s pretty long and I was worried it’d be too long, but I remembered I’ve read a 10k word fanfic before, so this should be nothing. Please leave a comment, share, like, etc.

Happy Birthday Riz Ahmed!

[creativewritingbyfabio]

The Golden Compass

Welcome back to another edition of my creative writing practice! While I had a ton of writing for the Wizards Apprentice I want to keep my writing fresh and try coming up with a new story today. However, I may come back to the Wizards Apprentice one day. 

That being said thank you for your time and please enjoy it.

Fred: ( sigh ) aww shit.... late for work.....again. Pretty sure the boss is going to chew me out in front of the office for this one.

The city yawned and stretched as it began the usual cacophony of routine commuters and busy folk. It was a Tuesday morning no different from any other Tuesday and I was in no hurry to get to work. Not that I hated my job as an IT specialist or anything. Even my boss wasn’t all that overbearing. I think I just never really understood “ the long march” that came with that eternally repetitive grind of a 9-5 job. Every day like clockwork the city wakes up and the same people rush through their same daily routine to do the same routine tasks at their same job thinking the same thoughts day in and day out. I always made a point to take the longer route to work. Those brief moments of unstructured time we’re my own and I cherished the brief moments of independence where I would throughout the city, listen to my music, and simply just enjoy my time.

I stood near my usual bus stop lost in a lazy daydream about the song I was listening too. Ignoring the time on my watch I looked around myself while I waited for the bus to arrive and my eyes caught a glint of something shiny from a nearby trash can. I paid it no mind at first but something about that peculiar shine drew my attention and I peered my head in. After removing a recently tossed out newspaper I found myself staring at a beautifully crated golden compass. Worried of the judgemental suspicious eyes of those around me beaming at a man digging around in the garbage I quickly swiped up the compass and stepped aside to marvel at my new found treasure.

The first I noticed was the substantial weight of the compass. It was slightly smaller than a tennis ball yet it felt like dense as if a labyrinth of gears and metal was compressed inside. The outside had some of the most beautiful craftmanship I had ever seen and the gold sparkled like it just had polished mere moments ago. Prideful lions, majestic angels, and various intricate designs had been engraved into the backside of the compass. While I knew nothing of antiques I could tell just by looking this was something of value and could help fetch a pretty penny at the nearby pawn shop and lord knows I certainly wouldn’t mind the extra rent money this month. Just as I was amusing myself with the idea of treating myself to a nice steak dinner with my prize instead of the typical cup of ramen I have every night I realized....the damn thing was broken. The needle moved left and right and back around it as it was almost possessed. Before I could get a better look at it my bus arrived and I hurriedly tossed the watch into my satchel as I stepped on to pay my toll.

Several hours later.

Fred: “ ugh jeez I thought he was never going to stop”. 

I slumped down onto a park bench that was near my office and rubbed my temples. My boss scolded me in front of the entire IT department and gave me a fresh stack of work to do that was certainly going to make me stay late that day. My lunch was the only respite I was going to get that day and then it was back to the grind. I reached into my satchel to grab my peanut butter sandwich when the golden compass I had stumbled upon fell out too. I picked it up and looked at it again.

Fred: Yep....still broken. Guess I can forget treating myself to that steak dinner tonight.

Right before I chucked that thing into a nearby trash can I saw the needle swivel and lock directly on to an older gentleman walking past and seemed to follow his every step as he drifted down the path feeding nearby pidgeons. When he stopped in the middle of the path the compass stopped too immediately. And when he finished up and continued his walk so did the compass.

Fred: Ooooookay. So not only is this thing broken but...it’s haunted? No, no that can’t be it. Think Fred, there has to be some strange scientific reason for this. 

I had always been a fan of puzzles and I had the feeling this little compass held some deeper secret or trick to it. At first, I just spent my lunches observing the compass as I munched away idly watching people that passed by and seeing which people the compass seemed to “gravitate” towards. However, as the weeks went by this became almost a sort of hobby. I kept a small journal with myself at all times trying to decipher a pattern or any semblance of a reason for the behavior of this thing. Yet as weeks turned to months...

*reading from his journal, eyebrows furrowed

Fred: ....okay we have that lady from the grocery store, brown hair, 5 foot 3...hmmmmm no 2. Then there was that couple I passed by at the movie theater, the bearded fellow was blonde, easily 6 foot 1 and the other guy the redhead one was about 5′11 and was completely bald...? Ugh, this is getting me nowhere! It’s all random and this data isn’t working. I mean it’s not like I can go up and ask these people “ Hey I am doing trying to figure out why this golden compass points to random people can I ask you what your date of birth, star sign, and blood type is”? haha aww man....this thing is driving me crazy.

Months passed and this whimsical hobby had turned into more of an obsession yet I was onto something. There was a woman, Roxanne, who worked at the local grocery store I shopped at for the past 4 years. While I didn’t know her personally she had a reputation for a good person. She ran the food drives, the church choir, and even personally oversaw the fundraiser event that raised enough money to fund the owner's expensive heart transplant surgery last year. Every time I visited the store the compass pointed directly to her. I had spent weeks going through all the external variables I possibly could. Height, weight, gender, clothing, and skin color but perhaps I had been looking at it wrong the whole time. What if this compass pointed towards..good people? 

I chuckled to myself for a moment as I mused over the prospect of holding a literal moral compass in my hands. Weeks later I found myself swallowing my prior cynicism after my 137th test confirmed my hypothesis. I had gone to visit various doctors, school teachers, philanthropists, veterans, servicemen, caretakers, social workers, and veterinaries all of which we’re famous or admired for their altruistic and compassionate deeds. And every time I met one of them the golden compass tried and true pointed directly right at them.

Two times is a coincidence, three times is a pattern........is the 137th time a fact? It had been a full year at this point since I found the golden compass and the reveal filled me with such great job and catharsis that it brought me to tears. As I wiped away my tears of victory a gear turned in my head and a flood of questions poured through.

Fred: If the compass is pointing towards only morally good people....how does it know? How is it judging people? What should I do with this newfound tool? Should I even have this thing? Where did it come from? What should I do with this power?........ Why doesn’t the compass point towards me?

The End: Part 1

Wow, you stayed to the end? Thank you! I had a ton of fun putting this story together and I hope you did too reading it. Curious to see how it ends? Then feel free to tune into my next post, coming soon. 

[trexy225]

Three Hearts-Chapter 35: Two Hearts

Summary: Rosie makes a sacrifice.

Authors note at end!

“We don’t have any power Rosie, even if I wanted to help, we couldn’t,” Rio explained as she wrapped a patient's wounds from the earthquake.

“ARE YOU SERIOUS? My girlfriend is dying and you have the nerve to tell me-”

“The nearest hospital is-” “Also out of power!” “The backup generators will come back on in 4 hours.”

“She doesn’t have that long! She has at the most two hours and-and only one person who can save her.” Rosie ran out and called over a taxi.

“Take us to Alchemex in Catskills.” She demanded.

“That’s a long drive lady-”

“Take us there in an hour and I’ll pay you 10x your salary,” Rosie ordered.

The driver relented as he stepped on the gas pedal, Rosie held onto Olivia as she dialed Dr. Connors.

“Are you still at Alchemex?” She asked.

“Yes, where are you? I’m watching the news and-”

“Liv’s hurt, badly. And nobody can save her but you, we’re driving over now, we’ll see you in an hour.” Rosie hung up before he could respond, she hoped he understood.

Dr. Connors was already ready when they arrived, he helped Olivia onto the bed and immediately stabbed needles into her, and placed her on life support.

“Her heart’s ruptured… she has a day at the most, I’m sorry Rosie.” He reached for her hand, but she drew away a bit too quickly, as her arm swept his workstation, knocking a vial labeled LIFE FOUNDATION SYMBIOTE #1 full of black-purple slime over, it fell to the ground and shattered. “What about my heart?” Rosie asked.

“You know I can’t do that,” Curt argued.

“You told me once after our yearly examinations that we had matching hearts, why can’t mine be hers?” Rosie ordered.

“But you’ll die-” “What about your serum?” “It isn’t ready yet.”

“How about the pig's heart? You said it was ready for human trials.” Rosie argued.

“It’ll only last for a few days.”

“And then you’ll put me in your suspension tank until you figure it out,” Rosie argued.

“Rosie I-”

“Curt. Don’t test me.” Rosie warned.

Curt stared at her. “You really love her this much?” He asked.

Rosie nodded.

“I’m going to regret this…” He muttered as he motioned to the other table.

“Thank you, Curt.” Rosie put the anesthesia mask on, the black slime crawled up her leg.

“I hope this works,” Curt muttered.

It took Curt 4 hours to replace Rosie's heart, and another 4 to transplant Olivia’s. Rosie was already starting to flatline, even in the suspension tank. It must have been the black slime entering her… He couldn’t take her out though otherwise, she would die instantly, he needed to observe her. He transported Rosie into his private lab for observation while he kept Olivia on life support.

Rosie was pronounced functionally dead in a week.

“I’ll never forgive myself…” Curt muttered as he closed the lab door.

“For what?” Olivia asked, sitting upright.

Curt jumped. “Jesus Christ! How are you-”

“Where’s Rosie?” Olivia asked.

Curt didn’t answer.

“Where’s Rosie?!” Olivia demanded.

“She’s dead. She gave her life so you could live.”

“No. No, she didn’t, where is she?”

“She’s dead Olivia-”

“NO! NO she isn’t! Where is she!” Olivia screamed, the actuators burst forward, they swept over Curt's workstation and spilled a green chemical all over him, he screamed in agony as the assistants carried Olivia away. They didn’t stop until they came across an abandoned farmhouse near a river, they stopped and set her down. Olivia numbly stared into the river, she took out an engagement ring, it had a beautiful pink diamond in the middle, carved like a rose, she traced her finger along each petal, she was supposed to propose to her, she was supposed to be with her forever, now she was dead.

Your serotonin and dopamine levels are the lowest we’ve ever seen… Alfred observed.

You’re in pain.

We can take it away for you.

Just let us take over, just for a moment. We can take away the pain.

Tears ran down Olivia's cheeks, she gave a small nod.

We’re going to help you. Nessa reassured her as Olivia spasmed.

Just go to sleep. Agatha cooed.

Olivia went limp for a moment. Suddenly her head snapped up, but this wasn’t Olivia. “Let us take it from here, Liv.” She said, she looked at the ring and tossed it into the river, they wouldn’t be needing that anymore. She turned her head to the direction of Alchemex and smirked.

“You did it all wrong Liv, all wrong. We’ll do it right.” The assistants said through Olivia as they rushed back to Alchemex, they had plans, big plans, and now Olivia couldn’t stop them.

END OF PART 1

Authors Note: WHATTT??? We're finished?! Ok Ok that was insane first off, second off get ready for Part Two coming out soon!!!!!!!! For now pls enjoy some y/n fanfics from me and thank you so much for reading Part 1, I hope you stick around for Part 2!

[aslaton8-blog]

I’m not a writer

Yet I’m so full of imagination. So what do I do with this? I guess I begin writing right? So here is a glimpse at what I’ve been working on for the last decade and finally started writing. WITH the help of my writer friends of course. I still have some notes in here of places I need to work on or add details but other than that this is the rough draft of the first chapter:

 “What is there left to strive for? It’s all…perfect.” Orin thought this to himself as he stared listlessly at the wall in front of him. This was becoming a habit, this sitting and staring, mind looping around the tedious perfection that encapsulated him. Perfection. A word that on its own should elicit thoughts of triumph and rightness. It was starting to mock him. He was feeling a nameless emptiness now, and the wall in front of him was failing to rectify the situation. So he decided to go for walk. He put on his shoes and stepped out into a glorious golden afternoon. The weather was perfect. Of course it was.

(here might be a chance for a little world-building. Descriptions of particular flowers or trees, anything to make the world unique and enhance the imagery)

He strolled down the street toward the community center, where the Battle Games and other events took place. The Games. Why did the citizens even bother with this archaic tradition? Sure he was privileged to be a part of the warrior team, and the yearly festival helped to keep him sharp and in great shape. That was worth something he supposed. It was a reminder of where they all came from, why they all got to live the happy, perfect lives they did. It was supposed to be a faithful reenactment of the last Great War. These days it was a popularity contest. (here I omitted the brief explanation of the war itself and the history, because this is a story that you can find a way to tell organically later on)

The community center loomed large before him, filling his field of vision with shimmering memories of hard-fought victories and the revelry that inevitably followed. All in the name of the True Victory all those years ago. Of course, the True Victory was a victory Orin himself had taken no part in. Still, the architectural juggernaut at the center of town never failed to send a shiver down his spine, and he felt his bow hand start to tingle at the sight of it. He would be ready this year, oh yes. He was always ready.

His fantasies of future glory were shouted out of the sky by a spunky, pig-tailed fledgling bounding across the street towards him.

“Orin!” she cried, waving excitedly as she barreled forward.

He rolled his eyes big enough for her to see, but behind the dramatic eye-roll there was the hint of a barely-hidden smile. This was a common reaction to her infectious energy. Abella skipped the last couple steps towards him, already reaching for his hand before coming to a stop.

“Orin Orin Orin! Was just on my way to your place, Isumthikar said you’d be there. You’ve been sitting at home a lot lately huh?? Well—Doesn’t matter. I made something I wanna show you. Come on!”

Orin’s feet were moving before he had time to blink. She dragged him around the corner, past a handful of dog walkers (don’t exist) and young couples enjoying another day of peerless beauty.

Abella never once let go of his hand as she led him down the street and through the front door of her mother’s shop, Katrin’s Kolecktibles. The store looked as it always did, dusty shelves lined with exotic artifacts of various origin and composition. Anything from brass vases to homemade jewelry, dream savers to fortune beads (I just made up crap here, good opportunity for WORLD BUILDING). Stern-faced Katrin stood behind the counter as she usually did, bent over a well-marked ledger with a fountain pen between her teeth. She eyed Orin over her glasses and smirked. Her daughter’s feelings for Orin were no mystery to anyone, Orin included, so there was an expectancy that hung in the air whenever the two of them were together. This tension clawed at Orin, and while Abella was sweet and beautiful (a common trait among most girls in the community), he just didn’t want to think about that right now. He had no desire to lead the girl on, but she was no dummy either. She knew it wouldn’t happen now, or maybe even soon. The girl was crafty, playing the long game. Orin couldn’t help but admire her perseverance.

He blushed under Katrin’s gaze as Abella rushed him to the back of the store, where she opened up a stout leather case and removed a freshly-carved, newly-strung ironwood bow. Orin forgot himself for a moment, his mouth unconsciously dropping open as he gazed upon its craftsmanship. Abella must have been pleased with this reaction, as she let out a honey-soaked giggle and handed him the homemade bow. He took it reverently, sighting it and drawing the string to test the tension. Perfect. Orin was never one for overreactions, but today he couldn’t help himself.

“You…you made this?”

“Uh-huh,” Abella replied, nodding matter-of-factly. “And even better, I got custom arrow heads.”

She reached into a small bin and pulled out a shining black arrow head, the tip whittled to a lethal sharpness.

“Me and Prong went up to the Pyrite Mountains and collected rocks. We spent days carving them. Whacha think?”

She handed him the arrow head. He caressed it, feeling the smoothness. He tested the point with the tip of his index finger, smirking when a red dot of blood appeared. “This is amazing. I think you have some talent, Abella.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” She blushed and bit her lip. “Actually, I was also kind of hoping you’d use them in the competition this year.” She gestured to the bow in his hand. Her proposal hung heavy in the air as Orin not only considered the proposal itself, but also the implications of what it would mean, especially to Abella. The girl must have been reading his mind, because her eyebrows raised and she said:

“Just so you know, Prong will be using the arrow heads too.” The grin that spread over her face was rife with mischief. Crafty little Abella. So it was to be a challenge then. Orin was no stranger to challenges, and he was happy to accept this one. “Of course, Abella,” he said, bowing and pressing the bow to his chest, “I would be honored.” (here I omitted the explanation of Oauvyss courting traditions because it would be good to reveal this organically later on. I think for now it is enough to hint that Abella has serious feelings for Orin)

With so much light left in the day Orin departed Katrin’s Kolecktibles in search of a safe place to practice with his new bow and arrow. Nearby is a mountain range called the Kavos Mountains named to honor the hero of the last Great War on Oauvyss. This is where Orin’s parents died. He knew this would be the best place to practice because it always brings that darkness back enough for him to feel the true power of the weapon.

Orin was walking casually along the path toward the mountains when he spotted something very strange in the distance near the lake. It looked like a plant he had never seen before and looked like it didn’t belong in that area. “What was it doing there?” He thought to himself. His curiosity overcame him and pulled him toward the strange plant. As he got closer, the plant got bigger. He didn’t realize how far off in the distance he was looking at it. It started looking like some kind of plant made cocoon the size of an Oauvyn. He struggled with bad thoughts for a moment but then figured nothing bad could happen from a plant on Oauvyss yet he still had a bad feeling about it. It looked strange. It didn’t have the same vibrant colors the rest of the foliage around had to it. It looked like it was transplanted from another world. In an effort to understand this feeling it mustered inside of him, he investigated the cocoon further.

The hull glistened with tiny dark blue hairs blanketing its reddish-purple surface. Orin reached his hand out to feel the texture of the hairs but when he did he heard a loud snap in the trees behind him. His battle trained reflexes quickly shot him in the direction of the sound. He locked eyes on the trees looking for anything that could have explained that sound. His heart was pounding now.

“Why am I so afraid right now? This feeling is overwhelming!” Orin thought to himself in panic. He decided not to ignore the feeling and to take it seriously. He readied his bow and arrow he was just gifted from Abella.

“What a great time to have given this to me, Abella. I’m really feeling the power of this weapon right now and I hope I don’t have to use it.” He whispered under his breath to himself. “I just have a strong feeling about this strange plant right now.”

Suddenly and seemingly out of nowhere a shadow and powerful force or pressure pushed Orin down. Now Orin was more than battle ready. He had a bad feeling and now it was coming to life. “Shadow beings don’t exist so what the heck was that?!” He exclaimed out loud. He rushed back to town to get away from the strange events happening in that area and to hopefully inform somebody of the strange plant. He finds Prong first when he gets back into the village.

“Prong! Prong!” He screams at him from down the street. “What’s going on my friend?” he replied.

“Something strange is happening near Pyrite Lake in a field near the woods edge. Follow me, inform the other warriors!” Orin explained in a haste.

“Whoa! Slow down! What’s going on? What did you see???” Prong asked.

“No time to explain, we might be in danger. Just follow me and try not to alarm the towns people. “Prong ran to his house and gathered some things. On his way back to meet Orin and follow him, he made several stops to inform the other warriors. Lillium decided to follow as well while the others stayed behind to watch for any strange activity near the village. When they arrived the plant had bloomed but there were shadowy figures surrounding the plant from a distance in the trees. Orin pointed them out to Prong and Lillium.

“Look, right there! Those are the things I think that came with that plant. What should we do? Should we inform the villagers? I don’t want to put everyone in a panic but I also don’t want them to be unprepared.” Orin was concerned.

“We are emotionally prepared for danger, Orin. The villagers are not. I don’t think we should alarm them just yet. We need to know what we are even dealing with. You said it just bumped into you right?” Lillium asked.

“Well – Yeah but…” “But what?” “But I had a bad feeling around them.” “So? What does that even mean?” “I don’t know but I think we should listen to it.”

Lillium hesitated for a minute as she mustered up the courage to believe the words Orin was saying.

“Bad things don’t exist on Ouavyss, Orin… but we love you so I’ll entertain it.”

“If bad things don’t happen on Oauvyss then why did my parents die?”

“Everyone dies eventually, Orin.” Lillium rolled her eyes in a defensive manner. “But I guess you’re right. They didn’t die at an old age like most everyone else.” Orin was upset with Lillium’s reply but instead of keeping the anger between them he decided to switch the attention back to what he perceived as a potential threat. The shadows were just standing there...staring...from behind the trees along the treeline.

“What do you think it is Orin?” Asked Prong.

No one on Oauvyss had ever seen anything like these creatures before. Where were they coming from? Were they traveling from another part of the planet? Did they plant that strange flower there? The warriors were inspired with a flood of questions about these visitors. Orin seemed to be the only one concerned. He had a strange feeling about them and he believed his feeling even more now that he had opposition from Lillium. Anger is not common in Oauvyss. People get along mostly. He remembered the feeling of anger he had felt with Lillium about his parents. Why would Lillium be so careless about his parents death as if it was just another death. To Orin it wasn’t just another death it was a symbol. A symbol of his existence and what it means. He was gripped with purpose. He knew right then this was his mission. He needed to understand what that plant was doing there and why those creatures were just standing there and staring off in the distance.

Later that evening, Orin decided to go back once more on his own. He realized the shadow creatures weren’t attacking whiched conjured up the courage to revisit the strange plant. When he arrived it had bloomed even more. However when he got closer to the plant he saw something that blew his mind beyond anything he could ever imagine. He saw another Oauvyn fledgling curled up in the center of the flower bud. His heart sank and immediately ran to her rescue.

“What in the world was an Oauvyn doing trapped inside that plant???” Orin’s heart was in full panic and was racing toward the flower. When he got there the woman looked completely bare and sound asleep. Without hesitation he reached in and tried to pick her up. When he did, the shadows around him became restless. They began making a lot of noise and some even screamed at Orin from what felt like right next to him. This opened up the feeling of terror inside of Orin. This is not a feeling he ever felt before. He lifted the young woman out of the bloom and ran as fast as he could to the village.

“Lillium! Prong! Kragos! Somebody!! Help!!!” Orin shouted as he ran into town. Villagers started pouring out of their homes, interrupted by the screaming and shouting to see what was happening. They saw Orin carrying this woman and nobody came to help. They were all frozen like deer in the headlights. Orin looks down at the limp woman in his arms anyway and said:

“Don’t worry you’re safe with me now.” ------------------------------------ End first Chapter.  Honestly never thought I would see my imagination on paper like this. It still has a lot of hashing and fleshing out to do of course but I think I finally have kind of a first chapter to this story! Wow! I’m feeling a little accomplished :)

[fleckcmscott]

Watch What Happens - Chapter 3

Chapter links: 1, 2 

Summary: Arthur, an aspiring comedian, has struggled to find normalcy and compassion his entire life. Y/N, a hard-working paralegal and transplant to Gotham, has just been put on a case for the Wayne Foundation. When they meet, unexpected sparks fly.

Chapter warning: Angst

Words: 1,856

Impromptu conversations with Hoyt were rarely pleasant. There seemed to be a new gripe whenever Arthur learned his boss wanted to speak with him. He’d been late to a party because the train had broken down. The balloon animals he was learning to make deflated too quickly. His laughter popped up at the wrong times.

Today’s meeting had been no different. As soon as he walked into Hoyt’s cramped office, he knew he’d be scolded. He understood Kenny’s Music was upset that he’d disappeared. What he hadn’t expected was Hoyt’s complete dismissal of his side of the story. Yes, it was a stupid decision to go after the kids who were giving him shit. The bruises covering him were enough to prove that. But why would he go out of his way to steal a sign?

Arthur had been careful to smile painfully the entire time, the way Penny had taught him. With all the effort it took to maintain his composure, he’d barely heard Hoyt threaten to take the cost of the broken placard out of his pay. He felt a pang in his gut. Less money would mean missed meals. At least he could handle that better than his mother, since he rarely ate anyway.

Hoyt told him his co-workers were uncomfortable around him. That they thought he was weird. That wasn’t news to Arthur - though he didn’t always get their intentions, he wasn’t an idiot. He hadn’t missed the lack of inclusion in the card games the others played on their downtime, or how quiet they were around him.

And he made everyone uncomfortable. Except maybe Gary, the little person he worked with. Gary was the only acquaintance who appeared to give a shit about him, even a little. And he went out of his way to check-in with Arthur when a day had been particularly trying. Arthur would have to remember to try to return that favor.

Usually, his anger didn’t eclipse his general malaise. When it did, he tried to push it down like he had learned. He couldn’t do that today. After the meeting with Hoyt, he’d gone into the back alley and punted the garbage until he fell.

It had been too much. He put more than forty hours a week into being a clown. He loved his job and was good at it. There was a reason he was on the rotation list for the children’s hospital. Just once, it would be nice to hear he had done well instead of being berated.

He tried to remind himself he was lucky to have a steady income.

Now Arthur was in the empty locker room at HaHa’s, cleaning crud off his shoes from the garbage bags he’d broken open. His knee was sore from the kicking. When he got home, he’d have to put ice on it. He took in a long breath, sitting on the bench in front of the row of blue lockers. Sometimes he thought it would be easier to simply drift away.

“You okay?”

Arthur hadn’t heard Randall approach. He slumped a little, expecting another smart remark from the giant know-it-all.

Randall continued. “I heard about the beat-down you took. Fucking savages.”

The aggravation in his voice wasn’t what Arthur had expected. Arthur shook his head. “It was just a bunch of kids. I should have left it alone.”

“No, they’ll take everything from you if you do that. All that crazy shit out there? They’re animals,” Randall stated.

Arthur stood and grabbed his jacket from his locker, not wanting to continue. He’d been on his feet all day, which hadn’t helped his healing back. All he wanted was to go home and try to relax.

Randall shoved a paper bag at him, taking him aback. “Here.”

Arthur glanced at it. “What is it?”

“Take it.”

Half expecting a trick, Arthur wiped his nose, took the bag and gingerly opened it. The light from overhead reflected off a .38 snub-nosed handgun and six bullets. Giggling nervously, he closed the bag and tried to hand it back. He looked around, making sure no one else had entered the room. “Randall,” he whispered. “I’m not supposed to have a gun.”

Randall smiled at him. “Don’t sweat it, Art. No one has to know. And you can pay me back some other time. You know you’re my boy.”

Arthur wasn’t sure how to take that. Had all the self-doubt he’d felt moments ago been wrong? Randall giving him a gift a gun to protect himself - did this mean he was finally “one of the guys?” It made him nervous. And a little proud. He shoved the paper bag in his pocket and shook his head lightly, laughing. “I’ve - I’ve got to go. My mother’s waiting.”

~~~~~

Arthur's evening went similarly to every other. He made dinner for Penny and took a quick shower, then ran a bath for his mother. After testing the temperature with the back of his hand, he went into the living room with a towel. "It's time for your bath, mom." Penny didn't have much of a reaction, a soft smile and a nod. He draped the towel over his shoulder and, putting an arm around her back, the other under her armpit, gently lifted her out of the easy chair. She shuffled along as he guided her to the bathroom.

Penny dropped her robe to the floor, seemingly half paying attention to what she was doing. He picked it up, folded it, and placed it on the closed toilet lid. Once he had helped her out of the rest of her clothing, he threw it in the hamper. He took her hand as she stepped into the tub. "Be careful. Don't slip," he said, helping her get into the water. When she was situated, he dragged a stool over, sat, then grabbed a washcloth and soap to scrub her back.

Arthur was used to taking care of Penny, but this level of helplessness still felt new. He'd had to start helping her bathe about six months ago, when she'd had a fall getting out of the tub. The panic he'd felt when he'd found her on the floor still weighed heavily in his stomach when he thought about it. He'd been grateful she hadn't broken anything. And when she’d first said, "Happy, I need your help in the bathroom," he'd been glad to assist her. Truthfully, it felt good to be needed.

She stared vacantly at the wall as he washed her arms. "I wonder why there was no mail today."

"That means no bills, mom." He handed her the washcloth and soap. "Wash your chest and down below." Turning away from her, he listened to the water splash behind him. He hummed gently with the radio as he waited for her to finish.

She continued after the soft sloshing stopped. "Maybe the mailman is stealing my letters."

He swiveled back around and grabbed the nearby plastic cup. Carefully, he tipped her head back and started washing her hair. 

Penny closed her eyes. "Maybe we'll hear from him soon."

He couldn't bite his tongue any longer. "Mom, why are these letters so important to you? What do you think he's gonna do?"

"He's gonna help us," she pronounced.

Bewildered, he shook his head. "You worked for him, what? Thirty years ago?" A sigh escaped him. "Why would he help us?"

She turned and looked him straight in the face, answering without hesitation. "Because Thomas Wayne is a good man. If he knew how we were living... If he could see this place, it would make him sick." She lowered her head. "I can't explain it to you any better than that."

Arthur pursed his lips. It wasn't worth the argument; he wouldn't win it anyway. He closed his eyes. He did his best to provide, but he knew it wasn’t enough. Maybe if she hadn’t had a son who was such a mess, she’d be in a better position. He started thinking about the sign he had to pay for, hoping he could pick up an extra gig to make up the difference.  "I don't want you worrying about money, mom," he said soothingly. "Or me." A flicker of excitement went through him at what he was going to say next. "Everyone's been telling me my stand-up's ready for the big clubs."

Blinking at him, she said, "But, Happy, what makes you think you can do that?"

"What do you mean?"

Penny looked at him in consternation. "Don't you have to be funny to be a comedian?"

~~~~~

The journal lay open on the coffee table in front of Arthur. Sitting on the old, scratchy sofa in his blue pants, smoking cigarette after cigarette down to the filter, he thought about what he should write. It felt like homework tonight. The jokes weren't coming.

Usually he could ignore Penny's remarks. Tonight's comment from her had wounded him, though. She didn't think he could pursue his purpose of spreading joy and laughter? A purpose she'd told him he had all his life? He knew his timing was off, that he didn't get punchlines in the same way others did. He was acutely aware of that he had misunderstandings he couldn’t seem to fix. But he wouldn't stop practicing and trying to improve. He'd make her proud of him one day. He'd show her.

He wasn't going to journal about the bullet hole he'd accidentally fired into the wall, which he was going to have to figure out how to patch. If Counselor Kane caught wind of it, he'd be in serious trouble. The gun had been heavier than he'd imagined. His hands had trembled when he held it. It felt forbidden. And dangerous.

Why hadn't Randall told him it was loaded? He could have killed himself. Maybe that's what Randall wanted.

The new pack of pens caught his eye, and his thoughts went to the woman at the store. When she'd first spoken to him, he'd been preparing himself for a snide comment. One never came. She'd been unexpectedly kind and polite.

Her stare had been disconcerting until she apologized for it. A short chuckle escaped him as he remembered her blush. Women never did that around him. Even though he wasn't like the men in check-out stand magazines or movies, he wondered if she'd found him attractive. She was so pretty, too pretty for him.

The bravery he'd managed to wrangle to open the door for her surprised him. He wanted to keep it. Standing behind her in line, he thought he'd been able to catch a whiff of the sweet fragrance of her shampoo. Or maybe he’d dreamed it. Either way, he associated it with her. He wished he had worn cologne - she might have liked it.

He picked up a pen and started writing in his messy scrawl, a soft smile on his face. "I met a nice woman at the store yesterday. I don't know why she was nice to me but I'm glad she was. If I meet her again I need to say hi."

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