#the top chief admiral or whoever wears all black

[universalcaffination]

Concept: as you go up the ranks instarfleet, your uniforms saturation gets stronger. Kirk's command gold is a rich ochre, and ensign chekov is a pastel yellow. Sulu's yellow is bright, but somewhere in the middle

Department heads like bones spock uhura and scotty are very vibrant! They're just missing the "richness" of their colors that's only reserved for the captain

[bluesakura007]

What She Had to Do - Chapter 7: What Happens Now - Khan Noonien Singh x OC

Summary: It’s the final chapter of What She Had to Do. Zinalya’s crewmates and family receive a pre-recorded goodbye message, and she and the person she loves are finally free to sail off into the sunset. 

Warnings: Ever so slight angst and mentions of alcohol abuse, but it’s mostly fluffy. 

"Captain Kirk, commander Spock." Admiral Fletcher greeted the two newcomers who’d just been beamed down to Sierra-Lambda 3’s front gates, a day onwards from Zinalya’s successfully engineered plan to awaken and aid the escape of Khan.

"Admiral." Replied this captain courteously as he and Fletcher shook hands, the latter then doing the same with the first officer. Both he and his captain were wearing their on-duty Enterprise uniforms, having been contacted early that morning by the admiral about this breakout of the man sentenced to cryosleep those two years ago, along with the vanishing of the seventy-two other Augments who were still currently sleeping in their own tubes.

"I wish I could be talking to you under better circumstances, but this is all we’ve got so I guess we’re gonna have to do the best we can." Said Fletcher, before beginning his explanation of the events which had unfolded the previous day. "I’m told that somebody’s coming to carry out a transfer order of a batch of torpedoes kept here to Starfleet Headquarters, and then the next thing I know a couple of hours later I’ve got a phaser pointed at my head. When I woke up a few hours later, the cryotubes we’ve also been keeping an eye on here since two years ago had gone. Vanished into thin air."

"Every cryotube, sir?" Spock queried, somewhat amazed that such a feat was successfully accomplished. Sierra-Lambda 3 was one of the most secure Earth Starfleet facilities you could think of.

"Yep, every damn one." The older man in front of the pair of officers from the Enterprise replied, nodding his head in confirmation. "Except for one. The one containing the very man you went up against those same two years ago."

"Khan." Said Kirk, his voice dropping a notch or two in both pitch and volume at this name.

"What could one hope to achieve by taking all seventy-two of the other Augments only to leave behind him in particular?" The half Vulcan put forward another question.

"Khan wasn’t left behind, commander. He was woken up and took part in the escape that happened next - he’s the reason behind why some of my men are being treated for broken arms right now."

"Whoever did it knew the facility and managed to get in with that fake transport order, so it’s a foregone conclusion that they must’ve been a Starfleet officer." Jim reasoned, him and Spock both beginning to get a tiny feeling deep down in their guts, although they wasn’t consciously aware of this feeling’s presence yet, that who they were thinking was responsible for this might turn out to be the true perpetrator.

They could, after all, think of only one person off the top of their heads who’d resort to doing this to break out the jet black-haired man from his sentenced slumber. "And they must’ve had advanced combat knowledge and experience to get past all your guards, even with his help."

"You’re right for both, captain. That’s why I’ve called you two down here and why the Enterprise specifically is involved: what do you know personally about a certain security chief by the name of commander Zinalya Hamilton?"

Spock and Kirk both exchanged looks with each other of their newfound knowledge that what they’d been subconsciously suspecting was indeed true.

"We don’t really know her personally as well as Mr. Scott and ensign Chekov do because the three of them have been friends for a while, but after Khan was brought here for his cryosleep sentence she was hit pretty hard by it." The Enterprise leader told him a few seconds later as the three of them entered into the front entrance of the facility alongside each other.

"She held a great deal of affection towards him." Added Spock, remembering the emotion of concern evoked inside his mind whenever he would hear about another of Zin's drunken nights which sometimes involved outings by herself through the city of San Francisco, to later be found by one of the others and talked to. "And she developed a reliance on beverages with a high level of alcohol content in order to assuage the sadness she felt in his absence."

"Yeah. She told me about the stuff she'd been through before she came here." Said Fletcher, the trio coming to a stop off at the side in this entrance, a few scientists and guards walking past them in a more hurried manner compared to yesterday, which was probably because of them having to check that everything else there was fine and to find out whether anything else was taken. "She said she ended up having to depend on what's at the bottom of a glass to get over her troubles even for just a couple of days, and said she used to try and fool herself that maybe he'd just come back on his own and walk in through the door if she waited long enough. Apparently she was thinking about everything that could've been and going over hypotheticals for a while, and said she felt justified enough from that to come and take him and the others." The way he said this last part of his sentence gave off a sense of someone looking down their nose at another person, prompting Spock and Jim to experience another recollection of their worry for her.

"Did commander Hamilton have any assistance from any other individuals outside of Sierra-Lambda 3?" Asked Spock.

"We don’t know - if she did then we’ve got no idea who it was. We think the programmed chip she used to disable our security systems might’ve been given to her by somebody else, but we can’t be sure who specifically or whether that’s even the case to begin with."

"And they got past every in-person security measure?" As he asked this question, Kirk’s eyebrows raised themselves by a few degrees, not quite sure whether or not it’d be morally incorrect for him to be impressed.

Fletcher nodded again. "The guards were armed with higher-powered phasers and the research personnel and doctors had hypos full of anaesthetic powerful enough to drop half a dozen horses at their disposal, and they still got away." His lips tightened slightly in irritation. "One of them, Baxter’s her name, said she tried to take him down with one but she got the commander instead, and some of the others told me they saw him carrying her away afterwards like a damsel in distress. Because she’s not a superman like him, she’ll sleep for a while, around a few days."

With Spock also thinking the same thing, the captain mentally realised that Zinalya must have taken that accidental sedation to stop it from happening to Khan instead: in combat situations she didn’t tend to get caught by the enemy easily, doubled with the fact that she had a big heart and they all knew how much she cared for him. If she had the chance to stop it, she wouldn’t have just let him be captured like that. "So what happens now, sir?" This same captain asked after a silent moment which took up this realisation. "What do you want the Enterprise to do?"

"Well, I’ve sent word out to the rest of Starfleet command and they’re considering going after them." Responded the admiral. "There’s no warp signature around Earth that matches up with the time soon after they beamed out, so they must’ve covered up that signature and ran for the hills, but they’ve decided the Enterprise is the Federation’s best bet for starting the search because of it being the fleet’s most advanced ship and because you and your crew worked with her, so you’ll have the best chance at getting her to come quietly. Especially ensign Chekov and Mr. Scott, being friends of hers like you said."

"What about Khan?"

"They’ve said you can use any means necessary to bring him back here so we can put him back into stasis, as long as he comes back in one piece, and once Miss Hamilton’s brought back to Earth they can hold a tribunal to decide on what her own sentence is gonna be; they think it’ll be something like a few years in prison. But they’ve told me they don’t have to go ahead with beginning the hunt so as to say if you turn it down." Despite this final sentence taking the pair by mild surprise, they continued listening as he explained this further. "Because of that fact that you’re her colleagues, they’re gonna let you guys have the final say: it’s up to you whether the search for her and our good old pal Mr. Singh goes ahead, so you’ve got a couple of days to decide but I don’t suggest taking too long on that."

"He said it’s up to us?" Sulu addressed Kirk and Spock for clarification that what he’d just heart was correct, him and the other senior officers including Carol all standing together as a group in a meeting room onboard this ship of theirs.

"That is correct, Mr. Sulu." The latter confirmed. "The matter of whether the Federation begins the search for commander Hamilton and Khan is ultimately of our own choosing."

"They could be anywhere by now; how the hell are we gonna find them anyway?" Said Bones, adding to the conversation.

"Admiral Fletcher told us that we would have several other ships assisting us, allowing us to cover a wider area outside of Federation space."

"Poor Zinalya." Pavel, from a few feet away next to Scotty, commented in addition. "She felt so lost without him that she was pushed into doing this in the end."

"Aye, he did mean a lot to her. I can’t say I’ve ever seen anyone else change as drastically as her after Khan was gone." This engineer with him spoke his own mind out loud in agreement with what had just been said. He and the young ensign both often worried for her the most especially, as they were just as grateful for having a friend like her in their lives as she was for their presence in hers. It’s a universal concept that friends always look out for each other no matter what.

"And the look in her eyes when she talked to me about it all one night - it wasn’t just infatuation, what she felt towards him was definitely genuine. Nothing about that look was superficial." Said Carol, remembering this particular night she was referring to. "She must’ve decided that the only way to properly solve her troubles was to go to the root of the problem itself and undo it."

"It makes you think about that length of how much he meant to her for her to go ahead with a plan like this." Said Pavel.

"Captain." Uhura suddenly spoke up, looking at the screen of the computer console off at one side of this meeting room which she was stood near to. "We’ve got an incoming message, from her."

"What, from Zinalya?" Asked Scotty.

"Yes sir."

"Can you pinpoint where it’s coming from?" Queried Kirk, him and the others gathering round as the lieutenant sat down in the seat in front of this console, setting to work at opening the message.

"I can’t, it looks like it was rigged by her at some point yesterday morning to be sent to us at this time; this same message has also just been sent to the address of her parents in Canada."

"It’s gotta be something personal if she’s included her parents in it too." Dr. McCoy vocalised his own current thoughts, before the communications officer opened the message, allowing the video file which was seemingly embedded in it to begin playing.

It appeared to be a pre-recorded message in this video form. Its creator and sender was perched on a bed, presumably the one located in her family's home in Manitoba based on the casual decor and windowsill ornaments behind her. Outside this window, which was on one side of the video frame and located behind her head, several trees and pieces of greenery here and there could be seen, along with a small portion of a light blue-grey sky.

This Zinalya in the pre-rec video quietly sighed for a moment, before she began to speak. "If you're watching this, then it means one of two things: either I did it and I've managed to get Khan out, and we're pretty far away by now, or the worst case scenario I could think of has happened and I'm locked up in a prison cell." She chuckled lightly to herself at this second possibility, most likely in an attempt to add even just a slight atmosphere of humour to a worrying thought.

"But whichever of those two has happened, I guess I owe you an explanation. For a while, as you might know already, I've been struggling a lot with coming to terms with the fact that he's gone, and I have a little beer and vodka problem sometimes because of that." She continued, her now former cremates still watching and not daring to tear their eyes away or to speak yet. "And that's not right, basically. No matter what happened that led to all this, this sentence he'd got... it's not justice." Zin took another brief moment to pause before she launched into her main point. "No one should have to live with having the person who they find out they love taken away from them forever. Him being medically knocked out and kept knocked out indefinitely in the name of a punishment to control him is a half life, if you can even call it life in the first place - it's just death with a pulse. That's all this time without him has been for me, too. A half life." 

She then seemed to be stuck for what exactly to say next, smiling to no one in particular for a couple of seconds as a result. "This whole business of getting my feelings out into words is harder than I thought... but I guess I'm gonna have to carry on and just do my best. I had high hopes, you guys. I felt scared and electrified with him both at the same time, and the way I couldn't stop thinking about him was all I needed to convince me that I had those kinds of feelings for him. I know by the end of the court trial and everything I'd known him for a total of a week, but a couple of times being around him was like I'd known him for years and years. As far as I can remember Khan was the only man I felt that strongly about in my life; I had plans, I can't remember a time when I haven't wanted to ultimately end up getting married someday to guy I love and maybe even have children later. When Khan was suddenly gone and sent to sleep in some science facility hangar by the Federation authorities, it was like those plans had been taken away with him." The already poignant look on her face grew a little bit in intensity.

"I tried getting my head back into the dating game after a while, see if I could find anyone else who could be Mr. Right, but that didn't work. None of them turned my head like he did. So that's when I decided, somewhere around a year ago, to do this. To wake him up again and get him back myself, I mean if the Federation won't let us go to a new home, I guess we're gonna have to go anyway. Worst case scenario as I've said is that I'll end up getting caught and thrown in jail for trying it, and even then it's a case of still having a warm bed and three meals a day. And I will have given it a try and gone down fighting." Another pause momentarily set in. "I digress, though. The main point behind why I'm recording this right now and why I'm going to set it to get sent out after I'm done is because I want to say goodbye - I'm not going to get into the stuff that happened in court and the decisions that were made, I'm just going to tell you guys that I'll miss you. Talking honestly, I don't know when or even if I'll ever see you again, but I love all of you, and I wouldn't have traded the years I've had with you for anything." Another smile appeared on her features. A smile that soon grew to be wider than those belonging to her previous chuckles so as to express her happiness, which seemed somewhat bittersweet at this moment due to this goodbye she had to make to her family and friends. "A new kind of adventure's waiting for me. So long, everyone."

And then the video ended.

For the next moment or two that followed, the crew still remained silent, and so did her brothers Enaar and Rajen Hamilton and their parents Mason Hamilton and Siazru Tebal, who had all just additionally watched this pre-recorded video message in the places where they were located on Earth.

"It seems that commander Hamilton chose to take any means necessary in her own goal." Spock was the first to break this silence in the meeting room.

"Well, I’m happy for her." Scotty then added, nodding his head and feeling relieved that he had visual closure to back up what had happened being his best friend’s choice that she alone made. Although he was sad that she was now gone, a small smile made an appearance on his face. "I know the way she did it might be a bit illegal, but I’m glad that lassie’s managed to ride away into the sunset with Khan. It means she gets to be happy again - truly happy."

"And by ‘a bit illegal’ you actually mean very illegal?" The helmsman asked jokingly.

"You get what I mean, Mr. Sulu." Chuckled the Scotsman in reply.

"I’m happy for her too; we still did our best and it still helped for at least a while, but there was only so much we could do to help her cope with what she was going through." Said Chekov. "In the end, undoing the fact which was causing that was the only way she could go back to fully feeling like herself, if that makes sense."

"Yeah, I get that." Bones said in response to the Russian with a nod of his own head. "I know I’m don’t normally take part in sappy crap, but I guess you’re right: her gettin’ Khan back and running away with him was the only way to get the old Zin back too. The old Zin who had that... I don’t know, some kind of twinkle in her eyes like every day was some kind of new adventure. Or else God only knows how long she’d still be going over not being able to see him or talk to him again."

"What should we do, sir? Should we go after them?" Uhura, turning around in the chair she was still sitting in, queried.

For a few seconds, their captain still didn’t speak. The inside of his mind was a battleground with all the thoughts, options and arguments in this matter at hand crashing around within their walls. He had a duty to Starfleet and to the Federation, to make sure that Khan, a convicted criminal, served the rest of his indefinite cryostasis sentence as ordered by his court tribunal those fateful two years prior and to also ensure that his now former security chief answered for her own crime of awakening and aiding the escape of said convicted criminal.

However, another duty that he simultaneously had along with this one was to her as one of his trusted crewmembers and companions. He didn’t want to trample on her freedoms and happiness or that possibility that she could be able to help Khan with becoming a better man in their exile together, as she’d said during the above-mentioned court case when asking for this ultimately declined exile. Admiral Fletcher had told him and Spock that whether the Federation fleet began searching for the couple was up to them. Jim looked around at the remaining members of his senior crew, ending with his gaze landing on Carol.

"No." His answer came. "If nobody has any objections, we’re going to not go out looking for them or send any other ships from the fleet to do the same. We’re just going to leave them alone and let them go."

"So that Miss Hamilton can be given a chance to amplify good traits within Khan." Spock, who seemed to have been thinking along the same lines, added. "Spoken like a true romantic." Nyota remarked, this being with a small edge of a lighthearted joke but with the soft, loving look deep within her eyes conveying one simple fact: she was glad that he’d managed to grasp the emotional side of the situation.

"I do, however, also agree with the point made by Dr. McCoy, ensign Chekov and Mr. Scott. This could be her only chance for reclaiming the joy she lost after he was sentenced."

"Even if we do end up probably not seeing her again, she’ll be alright - she’s a fighter." The CMO, deciding for now to not once again voice his opinion on his ongoing discomfort at the first officer’s concurrence with him, said.

"You’re right. I’m sure the two of them will be able to count on each other if they do face some form of threat in the future." Carol expressed her own agreement with this latest statement.

Realising the fact that all of these others around him were speaking the truth of the matter, Jim nodded, and slowly began to smile. "They’re gonna be alright."

"Do you think she’s going to be safe with him?" Mason Hamilton asked, he and his Trill wife still pondering on the possibility of them perhaps never seeing their daughter again due to her technically now being a fugitive.

"Of course she will. She chose this, and you and I both know she’s a smart woman, so she wouldn’t have made that decision if she hadn’t weighed everything up." Siazru replied reassuringly while sitting next to him on their living room sofa and putting her hand on his shoulder in the same manner.

"You are right there. You’re always right." He chuckled fondly, before looking out in front of him, staring into space while still maintaining his attention on his surroundings at the same time. "And I'd be a liar if I said I didn't still love her with every decision she makes." Siazru nodded, agreeing with this point of his.

"Can I ask you something...?" Meanwhile, the now twenty-seven lady of the moment put forward this question quietly in the darkness of the quarters onboard Iadras' ship that she and Khan were using until their arrival at Ceti Alpha V another two days on from then. She'd been told to just rest in bed until this arrival, in order to recover her energy back from the efforts of this Trill captain's medical officers to counteract the sedative from yesterday - anaesthetic intended for use on Augments and the physical enhancement of theirs that allowed them to be more resistant to sedation.

"Hm?" This baritone-voiced man laying with her in this bed responded. The lights were turned off due to it being late at night and the pair deciding as a result that they should get some sleep, so it took a few minutes but they were currently able to faintly make out each other's outlines in this darkness of the room.

"When you were in cryo, did you dream?"

"Are you referring to the most recent occasion, or to the previous instance which lasted over centuries?" Khan made his own query for further clarification.

"Either."

He thought for a moment or two. "I'm not entirely certain. Most of what you might call my dreams were no more than fleeting images and sounds, and even then it's impossible for me to fully recall every one of them."

"So it was like how people dream during normal sleeping? How people get a kind of feeling of déjà vu when they're trying to remember one but they can't actually remember anything?" Said Zinalya.

"I suppose it is. From what I can remember of my dreaming whilst I was in stasis on both occasions, the images I saw were mainly memories from my life, some of those experiences being good ones and some being less so, and I believe I have vague memories of seeing the sky in my dreams, as well." He gave his answer to the main question which had brought this conversation into being. "Both times after awakening again it was like my physical body and one half of my mind were saying it was only moments since I went into sleep, with the other half knowing that it had been a much longer time. But I think we should try to begin with the average method that applies to everyone."

"Yeah - agreed." She admitted to the current tiredness she was experiencing. "Goodnight, Khan."

He smiled in soundless bliss. "Goodnight, Zinalya."

The hybrid with the green eyes, burgundy hair and Trill spots dotted sparsely on the sides of her forehead and neck found herself returning this same expression as, with her having no objections to it, Khan once again gently pulled her closer towards his chest with his arms around the back of her shoulders.

[rumpledgoldenweaver]

Coffee Kisses

Sliding in rather late with this one! my muse deserted me and I’ve written this in one go. So, for the @a-monthly-rumbelling June prompt “a secret admirer” Someone is leaving Gold coffee...

Blog Link: https://earlyrisingwriting.home.blog/2020/06/28/coffee-kisses/

Just a minute” Gold called out, alerted by the bell jangling against the door of his shop “Feel free to look around” That would give whoever had entered his shop time to glance at a few price tags, decide they couldn’t afford anything and disappear again, leaving him in peace to finish the watch repair he’d been working on over the past few days. It was a fine timepiece, with a proper old fashioned wind up mechanism. He would be sorry to see it go.

Nobody replied to him, if he hadn’t heard the door close he might have thought he was imagining things. Maybe it was the wind. Setting down his tools Gold decided to go check the door anyway, make sure it was shut properly. He pushed himself up using his cane feeling his bad leg complain at being left in one position for too long.  Wincing and mumbling to himself he stepped through into the main shop.

“Where did that come from?”

On the counter top, right next to the till where you couldn’t fail to see it was a take away coffee cup  from Granny’s Diner, that on closer inspection actually had coffee in it. A double shot espresso if he wasn’t mistaken. Gold didn’t drink coffee often but when he did he liked it hot and strong. He took a tentative sip. This one was perfect. Except he hadn’t ordered coffee and Granny did not do delivery “Folks can fetch their own damn coffee. I’ve got enough to do” was her opinion.

Gold held the cup up and turned it side to side looking for some clue to his benefactor. His eyebrows shot up into his hairline when he found it. A perfect red lipstick kiss mark.

Over the coming weeks more mysterious coffee cups appeared in his shop, always at a time when it was quiet and on days he hadn’t managed to get to the Diner himself. For the life of him though he could not figure out who it was. Eventually he decided to confide in one of his few friends. He hoped he wouldn’t regret it.

“Ooh! You’ve got a secret admirer Gold! I wonder who the poor deluded soul could be? We could stake out the coffee shop, you know you can count on us to be discreet”

“Jefferson I’m not sure that’s such a good idea…” but Gold’s protests were lost in Jefferson’s grand plan, that sounded more like something from a Bond film. He looked pleadingly at the man’s daughter for help. Thankfully she obliged and Gold made a mental note to put an extra $5 in her birthday card this year.

“Maybe we should use a process of elimination first Dad? Who does Mister Gold know who would wear that colour lipstick?”

“Brilliant idea Grace! Now come on Gold, get that little black book of yours out and give us some names”

“I don’t have a black book, and even if I did I’m not showing you”

“The Mayor wears red lipstick” mused Grace but I think it’s a darker shade.. what about her mother?”

“Cora? No we’re just friends and leaving coffee cups isn’t her style”

There was a minute or two of silence when a look of horror crossed Jefferson’s face “Not Milah…?

Gold went pale “God I hope not..”

“No.. no it wouldn’t be her”

Grace picked up the cup, staring thoughtfully at the kiss mark “Mister Gold, I’ve seen this lipstick colour before…”

~

It was a simple enough plan so why did he feel so nervous. All he had to do was go into the diner, make an order then sit at one of the rear booths. That would afford him a clear view of the place and more importantly the door. Then he just had to sit and wait to see if his admirer – he still couldn’t believe it - made an appearance. Standing in the queue he made what he hoped was a casual glance round. All clear. His eye was drawn to a lone cup sat on the counter waiting to be cleared away. There was a lipstick mark on the rim, the same colour as the mark on his cups if he was not mistaken. Gold panicked, she’d already been in! Was she on her way to his shop now? Should he leave the diner and hide round the corner? He was about to do just that when he spotted a set of keys next to the cup. If she’d left those, she’d come back to fetch them..

“I said can I take your order Mister Gold? I don’t have all day to wait for you”

Gold snapped back to reality, ordered a double espresso on impulse, handed over too much money and almost fell over three chairs in his hurry towards the back booth. Granny shook her head.

Not ten minutes later the door to the diner flew open

“Granny have you seen my keys? Oh there they are! Thank goodness! I’d forget my head if it wasn’t screwed on. I did pay you didn’t I? Right then thanks!”

The door banged shut behind her. Gold sat with his mouth open.

~

It took a full day, several cups of tea and a large whiskey for Gold to eventually get his mind round what had happened. Grace had been right. Now he had to do something about it. He wasn’t the most confident of men when it came to dating. There hadn’t really been anyone serious since Milah had left. Now Bae was all but grown up it was about time he did something for himself. But what? The next morning the answer presented itself, whilst searching a drawer for something unrelated to his conundrum he found an old lipstick of Milah’s. Before he could talk himself out of it he hurried off to the Diner.

Belle French, chief and only librarian in Storybrooke was knee deep in books that needed to be put back on the shelves. She really needed to ask the Mayor if she could advertise for an assistant. Much as she loved her job it was too much for one person. She heard the door open and close, the bell on the desk rang once.

“One moment I’ll be right with you!”

Silence followed. She sighed. If it was the high school kids playing silly beggars she would not be impressed. She stepped over the assorted boxes and made her way to the circulation desk.

“Oh!”

There right in the middle was a take away cup, that on inspection had tea in it. Hot tea, with milk and two sugars. On the side facing her was a red lipstick kiss mark. She looked round but couldn’t see anyone, and she hadn’t heard the door close.

“Mister Gold? Is that you?” she asked rather nervously.

“Aye it is” he stepped out from behind one of the free standing bookshelves, looking smart as always including lovely red lipstick

Belle couldn’t help but giggle “It suits you”

“Not as well as it suits you” he smiled.

“How did you know it was me?”

“I had a little expert help on lipstick colour”

Belle blushed “I hope you didn’t mind.. I just didn’t have the nerve to speak to you”

“I never mind free coffee”

They both laughed. Belle handed him a tissue, indicating his face. He wiped the remainder of the lipstick off.

“I wonder if..” they both began at the same time

“Ladies first Miss French”

“No no after you”

“Right” Gold took a steadying breath “Would you like to accompany me to dinner tonight? Tomorrow night? Any night?”

“Yes!”

“Which one?” Gold asked slightly confused

“All of them. And it’s Belle”

“Fraser. Shall I pick you about 7 o’clock?”

“That would be lovely”

Gold nodded and made to leave

“Oh Fraser”

He turned to see Belle pointing at his face “You missed a bit”

[theoeclipse]

Les Roses

Pairing: Lena Oxton x Amelie Lacroix

Disclaimer: Characters are the intellectual property of Blizzard.

Summary:  Lena has been mysteriously receiving roses at the fashion magazine where she works. When she discovers who is sending them, however, her life is turned upside down.

Note: This started off as a little prompt that was supposed to be short. It quickly turned into almost 7k words. Sorry not sorry.

You can also read this on AO3 here.

~

Lena exhaled as she looked at the monitor in front of her. She had just finished editing the last article for this week’s edition of Couture, five minutes ahead of schedule even. Which meant-

“Home time!” she chippered to herself, cracking her knuckles and standing from her stiff office chair. She pressed her hands into her lower back, bending until she felt it crack and let out a little grunt of relief.

Just as she was about to leave her office however, hand poised over the door handle, her desk phone rang.

Eyes narrowing, she considered it briefly. If she answered it and it was the boss, she could probably expect to be staying late with no way to get out of it. However there was always the possibility it could be a serious request that could cost her arse if she ducked out before answering it.

Resigning herself to this fate, she walked back to her desk and picked it up.

“Yello?”

“Good afternoon Lena, it’s Sandra from front desk. I wanted to let you know there’s a delivery down here for you to pick up on your way out.”

Brow crinkling, she wondered if it was the same person that had been sending her roses for the past few weeks.

“Righto, I’m on my way down now anyway, thanks.” She placed the phone down and turned, making her way out.

No one from the floor noticed as she left. Not that it was really any of their business what she did or where she went, this whole magazine would be stuffed without her writing and editing for the company. Her articles alone were 40% of the readership, probably more.

So yeah, definitely wasn’t a secret admirer here at the office, that she was sure of. But that just made it even more of a mystery. She didn’t really have many friends, at least no gay ones. And she was fairly certain her mum wouldn’t go setting her up with a mystery woman.

Still, she’d figure it out eventually, that much she was sure of.

As she stepped off the elevator and approached the front desk, Sandra met her with a bright smile. She could see the roses just sitting there in a little black bucket, a note tucked neatly into them.

“Nother one huh?” she asked, approaching where they sat on the counter and reaching out, cupping one of the red roses and bringing it to her nose. It smelled soft, floral and delicious. Whoever bought these- and there was at least two dozen- had money to spare. And then some.

“Someone likes you,” Sandra replied, tilting her head at the roses and wiggling her eyebrows.

Lena scoffed.

“And lemme guess, you got no clue who they are either?” Lena asked, plucking the note from the stems and unfolding it.

Sandra looked thoughtful for a moment before shrugging her shoulders.

“Whoever it is they’re bringing them in themselves. And let me tell you, she is probably the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. And I'm straight.”

That piqued Lena’s interest, an eyebrow cocking.

“Gorgeous woman you say?”

“Mhmm.” Sandra nodded, holding up a finger as the phone beside her rang and she went into customer service mode.

Lena turned away, bringing the note up to read it.

“Two lovers adrift- cast from their caste- find their own way back to land.”

She peered at it in confusion. The words seemed oddly familiar. 

Grabbing the pot of roses, she gave a small wave to Sandra and left the building. She had at least a five block walk home to ponder over the message, but it wasn’t until she placed the flowers down gently on her coffee table that a light bulb went off in her head.

“Bollocks!”

It was actually a line from a page she edited- the reader’s submitted poetry- that came out on the shelves last week. She’d liked that line, particularly so. She’d put that poem at the top of the column and even bolded that first sentence.

So, whoever it was sending her these gifts most certainly also read the magazine she worked on.

Tapping her chin thoughtfully, she paced back and forth. Still, no one she could think of. But maybe.... maybe if she just asked Sandra to hold them up the next time they brought flowers, call her with a code word or something, then she could run down and catch the ‘hot delivery girl’ in action.

She grinned to herself. It was a brilliant idea, if she said so herself.

And so planned the ambush with Sandra. She’d give her a call pretending to ‘need to call her boss about something’ and stay on the phone until Lena  got down there. After all, she couldn’t accept the delivery until she got off the phone, and the ‘hot delivery girl’ would be none the wiser. It was perfect.

So another week went by, every day Lena waiting anxiously for the end of the day to come and for her mysterious rose girl to show up. Of course it was silly to expect her so soon, but she couldn’t help it. It was keeping her on edge and she needed to know.

When that call finally came however, she could barely contain her excitement. She practically ran through the office to the elevator, much to the other employees disdain. Not that it bothered her, she was about to meet her mystery woman, caught red handed. This is definitely the most interesting thing that had happened to her all year.

Her expression dropped as the elevator doors opened at the ground floor, every part of her body tensing up as she spotted the very CEO of the competing fashion magazine to the company she worked for standing in the foyer. She had been following her on her social media for a long time now, and had always admired her passion and determination in a cut-throat industry.

Did she also mention she was bloody gorgeous? Like, fall over your own feet and walk into a street pole at the sight of her gorgeous? Because well... she was.

Their eyes met and there was a moment of panic she saw in the taller woman’s features. That was when she noticed what she was holding.

“Nice roses,” Lena managed to whimper out without sounding like too much of an awe struck teenager. As the French woman’s eyes bore into hers and a shade of pink touched her cheeks, Lena cleared her throat.

“Sorry, ‘m Lena. Lena Oxton. I’m editor in chief for Couture magazine, you’re Ms. Lacroix right?” she queried, straightening her posture and forcing herself to act at least a little bit professional. She looked over and noticed Sandra behind the desk making a frantic pointing motion in the direction of Ms. Lacroix as she stood there holding the roses. No. There’s no way.

“I know who you are, Miss Oxton,” her voice came out like silk, her gorgeous amber eyes sparkling with just a hint of mischief. “I am a fan of your work, it is written with passion and ferocity.”

A smile crept over Ms. Lacroix’s face, causing a flush to reach Lena’s cheekbones.

“I also enjoy reading your lifestyle blog online. It is... interesting, to say the least.”

Oh god, she read her lifestyle blog. Of all the bloody things. That website was nothing but a big mess of mostly lesbian content, a few fiction romance stories, interviews and reviews on LGBT+ media. Generally it was something that only really appealed to people from her own community, why would she be reading it?

“Gee, thank you so much Ms. Lacroix, I’m flattered, truly,” Lena paused, scratching at the nape of her neck as she tried to avoid those intense eyes. “Who’s the roses for anyways? Y’got someone ya meeting up with here or-”

At that, the French woman stepped forwards, holding the bucket out towards her.

“Apologies, these are for you,” Ms. Lacroix spoke rapidly, suddenly seeming self conscious in the moment, keeping her gaze locked onto the flowers in question.

Lena stared at them for a few moments, truly baffled and simultaneously very flattered and very very gay. She stammered.

“For me? But I don’t-”

“I was having your receptionist take the delivery, I’m sorry I wasn’t more forward Miss Oxton. I-” The French woman looked away, inhaling a deep breath before turning her head back and giving Lena a soft, wonderful smile.

Oh, that’s nice.

“I wanted to ask you to allow me to take you out for dinner some time.”

Lena almost dropped the flowers at that, her eyebrows lifting in surprise as she looked for any hint that she was being taken for a ride.

“D-dinner? Like... like dinner dinner? Like a date dinner? Not like... just business dinner?” her hope was welling up in her chest and she didn’t want it to die, not when this gorgeous woman was looking at her like that; looking at her like she was the most interesting person in the world and then some.

A soft chuckle that sounded very French indeed- if that was even possible- escaped Ms. Lacroix’s lips and it was a most heavenly sound indeed.

“Oui, like a date dinner. Perhaps with just a side of business, if that suits you.”

Lena couldn’t help herself from erupting into a hopeful giggle; she was all too aware of the stupid, love struck grin now blossoming on her lips.

“Suits me just fine love,” she paused, looking thoughtful for a moment. “Speaking of, do I wear a suit or...”

Her voice trailed off, and there was another one of those heavenly laughs.

“Non, nothing so formal. You could just wear a blouse and jeans if it’s what you wish,” she waved a dismissive hand, even that motion being elegant.

She was liking this woman more and more by the minute, and she’d already liked her to begin with.

At that, Ms. Lacroix reached into the inner pocket of her suit, a subtle dark grey tone that was cropped just along the bottom of her rib cage. She pulled out her phone, handing it to Lena.

Juggling the roses so that she could hold them with one arm, she took the phone and gave the French woman an inquisitive look. All she got was a cheeky smile in return.

“Your number, if you’d be so kind,” she elaborated, and Lena proceeded to enter herself into the woman’s contacts. “Thursday evening, 7pm. I will text you the address beforehand.”

Lena nodded and handed her the phone back, appreciating the small smile Ms. Lacroix had as she made sure the details were all there.

“Right, Thursday. 7pm,” Lena repeated, shrugging her shoulders. “Thanks for the roses by the way, they’re gorgeous.”

Ms. Lacroix made a small humming noise, obviously pleased that her gift was suitable.

“I’m glad you like them,” she replied, lifting her arm she pulled her sleeve back and looked at her watch. Lena couldn’t help but notice it was what appeared to be gold with many little encrusted diamonds around the face. Bloody ‘ell was this woman well off. “I have a meeting I must get to, but I look forward to dinner with you, Miss Oxton.”

“Lena,” she corrected her quickly, in one sharp breath. “Please, just Lena’s fine.”

The French woman smiled, a sparkle in her eyes.

“Very well, Lena,” and the name practically rolled off her tongue. “Then please, call me Amelie.”

“Amelie,” Lena repeated, a little quietly in fear of stuffing up the pronunciation, but Amelie nodded appreciatively in return.

“Enjoy the rest of your day, Lena,” Ms. Lacroix spoke, also giving a small nod of farewell to the receptionist before turning on her heel to leave.

“You too!” Lena called out after her, smiling to herself. She must have stayed that way for some time even after Amelie had left, as it took Sandra calling her name twice before she turned to her.

“Really Lena? The CEO of our competing company?” she looked both a combination of exasperated and amused.

Lena could only rub at her neck sheepishly, then pretending to look at her wrist despite not even wearing a watch at all.

“Gee will you look at the time? Gotta fly! Later Sandra!”

And with that she left the building before she could get in any more trouble.

~

Thursday couldn't come fast enough, yet when the time actually came, Lena couldn't help but suddenly wish she had more time.

Yes, Amelie said she could dress casual, but she hardly felt that would be fitting, especially considering that once she'd been texted the name of the restaurant she knew instantly she should at least try to dress up.

Of course it was a French restaurant. Of course it was fine dining. Jesus bloody hell this woman was rich, it wasn't like she was going to take her out for a luke warm cheeseburger.

The pile of clothes on her bed was growing, and as she stood in wearing black dress pants and a bra in front of her closet she finally decided that a simple blouse would have to do. It was form fitting, white and plain with three-quarter sleeves. Nothing fancy, but acceptable attire nonetheless.

She'd spent too much time fussing over clothes already so she decided to forgo the makeup except for a little touch of eyeliner and some neutral eye shadow. With that settled, she checked the time.

“Bugger!” noticing she only had 30 minutes to be at the restaurant, she hurried to grab her handbag, tucking her phone into it and heading out the door. She was lucky enough to be down the road from the metro, and if she jogged down to the station she'd just make it in time for the train and would- according to the timetable- reach her destination with a few minutes to spare.

And she did, her phone reading 6:58pm as she reached the door of the restaurant and made her way in. A man in suit and tie immediately greeted her with a charming smile and a soft 'bonjour', asking her for her reservation. She totally didn't feel nerves well up in the pit of her stomach, nope, none at all.

“Lena Oxton, I'm here for dinner with Ms. Amelie Lacroix.”

His eyes widened at the name and he began beaming, bowing and motioning with his hand for her to follow him.

“Ah yes, Miss Oxton, of course! Ms. Lacroix is waiting for you in the private dining room. Please, if you will follow me,” he spoke in the most formal of tones, his French accent just making him sound all the more posh.

Lena couldn't help but look around her at all the rich and well dressed people sitting at their tables, holding crystal glasses filled with red wine and dining on what she could only describe as Gordon Ramsay level cooking. If this was the 'public' dining area, she could only imagine what the 'private' dining area was like.

Following him through, he led her to a wide hallway curtained off from the public. He lifted the curtain back for her and motioned for her to walk through. She did so, nervous trepidation now rising into her throat. The hall was lined with oil paintings that looked both very old and very expensive. She could see the textures of the paint and the strokes from the paintbrushes. They were not prints.

At the end of the hall was a set of swinging double doors with curtains hung over their windows. For added privacy, Lena assumed.

He swung one of the doors open, smiling at her and motioning for her to enter.

“Have a lovely evening, madam,” he spoke politely, leaving and letting the door swing shut behind him.

As she turned back around, Lena couldn't help but gape at the room. It was massive, unnecessarily so. There was a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, speakers in each corner of the room emitting relaxing, hypnotic electronic music. The table was lined with a gorgeous purple satin tablecloth and set with every piece of cutlery and glass type you could think of.

There was also a gas powered fireplace that stretched almost six-feet wide along the back wall, emitting a comfortable amount of heat.

But perhaps the most beautiful thing in the room by far was the radiant woman sitting on the left of the table, reclining with her legs crossed and a sly smile on her face. Her eyes popped even more in this lighting, surrounded by an immaculate smokey eye and winged eyeliner. Her lips were coated in a shimmering lipstick a dark shade of purple that almost appeared black, glistening in the overhead light.

She was wearing a black dress that cut low through the middle, revealing the inner curve of her breasts and just about touching her belly button. A slice down the right side of the dress revealed her thighs almost all the way up to her panty line.

Oh, she was staring. She was definitely staring.

“See something you like?” Amelie teased, quite obviously aware of the effect she was having on her guest.

“I uh... um. That is-” Lena suddenly felt incredibly warm, and her clothing felt far too tight. She reached up and pulled at the collar of her blouse, attempting to loosen it. Amelie laughed, her eyes lighting up.

“Please, relax. I don't bite,” Amelie spoke, motioning to the chair that was beside her, but about two feet away. It certainly seemed more intimate of a dining arrangement than your regular setup.

Lena let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, moving around the table and seating herself to Amelie's left. She gave the French woman an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, 'aven't been on a date in a long time. I'm a little rusty at this.”

Amelie shook her head, her long black hair like tresses of silk tied up into a professional bun.

“I find it hard to believe someone such as yourself has trouble finding dates,” Amelie argued, taking a moment to eye her up and down, humming softly as though in approval. Lena felt her cheeks redden.

“Don't really get the time. I work at the office and I work when I get home. Sometimes I'm up 'til the early hours of the morning, don't get much sleep.”

Her dining partner clicked her tongue disapprovingly at this, her smile fading to be replaced by the most adorable crinkled brow Lena had ever seen.

“That is unacceptable, non that will not do at all,” she spoke tersely, shaking her head as she plucked her phone from the table and started typing something into it. Lena wasn't sure if she was texting someone or taking notes, but after a few moments, she placed her phone back down and looked at her with a very serious expression.

“Lena, I will not lie to you. There is another reason I brought you here tonight,” Amelie paused, taking a deep breath. Lena suddenly felt her nerves rattle. “I wanted to ask you to come and work for me. Be my second in command. Everything would have to be approved by you on my behalf, and all editing work would be done by those of your choosing. No more late nights, no weekend work, you would get to attend all the fashion events by my side or in my place.”

The amount of information being thrown at her almost knocked her for six, and she felt herself staring back at Amelie like a fish out of water. A smile crept onto Amelie's features.

“And of course, I would pay you handsomely. It would make your current paycheck look like mere pocket money.”

Okay, this all sounded far too good to be true. Yet she knew this industry was cut throat and those that had the skill and potential to go far were worth their weight in gold. Amelie had obviously been scouting her for some time, but did that mean that the date was all a ruse?

Shifting uncomfortably, she chewed on her lower lip. The woman beside her looked at her expectantly.

“So does that mean this isn't a date then?”

She could already feel the disappointment, the let down, that gaping maw opening up in her stomach and preparing to swallow her whole. The offer was amazing, and she'd be a fool to not accept it, but she'd truly been hoping to just enjoy a wonderful date and maybe something more with this mysterious woman.

Realising what she must have sounded like, Amelie instantly looked apologetic, leaning closer to her and resting her hand on Lena's thighs.

“Cherie, I brought you here for a date, that I promise you,” she squeezed Lena's thigh, giving her a reassuring smile. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on, I just thought it best to get business out of the way first before pleasure. Wouldn't you agree?”

Ahh, there was her nerves from earlier making a second appearance. Lena chuckled softly, feeling adventurous enough to reach down and let her hand rest atop Amelie's. It was a bit cooler to the touch than she'd expected, but still pleasant. Her skin was so soft and she just couldn't help herself but to run her thumb over the back of her knuckles.

This little moment of tenderness seemed to catch the French woman off-guard, her cheeks darkening and a hint of something else behind her eyes.

“Yes, I agree,” Lena spoke with all the bravery she could muster. She took a deep breath before continuing. “And I'd love to come and work for ya', Amelie.”

“With me,” Amelie corrected, giving her thigh one last squeeze before taking her hand back and returning to her relaxed posture. “You will be working with me, and I promise you cherie you will enjoy every minute of it.”

That she didn't doubt for a second. A pleased smile crossed Amelie's face as she adjusted her dress, somehow managing to reveal even more of her thighs.

“Now, are you hungry?”

She was hungry, but not just for food, that was for sure. Instead of making a fool out of her love starved self however, she settled for nodding in reply.

Amelie called for the waiter and they ordered their meals.

It was a comfortable atmosphere, the two of them talking light business while waiting and then while eating. Amelie seemed especially interested in Lena's lifestyle blog and suggested she could even have a similar article running weekly in her own magazine. Of course she agreed to it, more positive LGBT+ representation in the mainstream media could go a long way.

They talked about themselves. Lena learned that Amelie's prior marriage had been loveless and purely for business; the two had separated amicably once she had established herself in the industry with his help. It had been a well kept secret- the French woman's sexuality- but being the fashion giant that she was now she no longer felt the need to hide who she was.

It was something Lena understood, having herself dated men off and on when she was younger and in college. Even once she discovered that her lack of excitement in those relationships was due to the fact that they were men and not women, she still approached her love life with trepidation. A secret girlfriend here, a fling there. Nothing substantial. Work had ended up taking priority in her life, something she absolutely didn't regret having gotten to where she had in that time.

Now here she was, enjoying a wonderful date with an equally as wonderful woman. One who laughed at her jokes or listened to her intently when she shared a story. They finished their meals and the waiter brought out a bottle of wine for them, pouring two glasses and leaving the bottle behind.

Usually Lena wasn't big on drinking wine, but in good company it wasn't so bad, and she found herself loosening up the more she sipped at the crimson liquid. At some point Amelie had shifted her chair closer, almost touching, swishing her wine delicately in its glass while listening to Lena babble on about a movie she'd seen a few weeks ago.

It was as her head started to buzz that she looked over at her companions wrist watch, just barely making out that the hour hand was touching on the 10, the minute hand a little bit past the 12.

“Oh bollocks, is it that late already? I'm sorry I musta' been babbling on for ages, you must be bored outta' ya mind,” she started to panic, feeling self conscious of herself and her ability to prattle on about just about anything.

Amelie however only smiled at her, eyebrows lowering and her chin resting in the palm of her hand, propped up by the arm of her chair.

“Bored? Oh my darling, I've sit through more arduous meetings than I care to count. You are a breath of fresh air, though it is wonderfully sweet of you to be concerned.”

Darling? That was new. And... nice.

She took another mouthful of wine. Amelie noticed.

“If you wish to head home I would be more than glad to have my driver escort you there. I would hate for you to be out there alone at this time of night,” one of her eyebrows cocked playfully, earning a swarm of butterflies in Lena's stomach. “Or we could return to my home. I would so love to enjoy your company further.”

I'm bloody sure you would too, you French seductress. There was a part of her that was tempted to pass her up on that offer, if only because she was well aware of what they could get up to. But the part of her inhibition that had been loosened up from the alcohol would not let her turn it down in a million years.

“Y'know, think I'll take ya up on that, if only so that you can show me 'round your fancy digs,” Lena replied, looking thoughtful. This seemed to please Amelie greatly, a musical laugh escaping her lips and sending a warmth throughout her. Or maybe that was the alcohol at this point.

“Whatever you wish, cherie,” she replied, reaching for her handbag and pulling out what appeared to be a chequebook and pen. Lena watched with mild interest as Amelie filled out a cheque; she couldn't quite make out the numbers, but there was most definitely several zeros.

The cheque was placed in a small dish in the centre of the table and she tucked the book back into her handbag, beginning to push her chair from the table. Okay, Lena could at least do this one little to thing to prove she had at least a little bit of culture.

“Oh, here let me,” she rushed, jumping out of her own chair to her companion's surprise, standing off to the side and offering her hand in assistance. Amelie smiled, taking the hand and allowing herself to be helped out of her chair.

“Mmm, how chivalrous of you, cherie.”

Lena grinned, now offering her elbow. “Shall we?”

Amelie gave her an admiring smile before looping her arm through the offered elbow, allowing herself to be escorted out.

“Lead the way.”

They got quite a few intrigued stares on their way out, but Lena was blissfully happy enough that she didn't care to notice them. If anything she stood straighter, giving that one balding, grey haired dude the 'yeah, this is my date, what are you gonna do about it?' glare when he looked like he'd swallowed a bag of marbles at the sight of her arm in arm with another woman.

Once outside a cool breeze touched her skin, ruffling her brown tresses of hair that she had styled almost immaculately. The valet nodded to her, assuring her their ride was on its way.

No more than three minutes later, a limousine pulled up. It was the darkest of blacks, tinted windows, shined so thoroughly that Lena could almost make out her reflection in it. The valet stepped forwards, opening the rear door and bowing graciously to them as Amelie tugged her towards the vehicle.

This was all... quite a lot. Even as she buckled in and admired the spacious cabin around her, she couldn't help but wonder what the point of all this was, other than making a grand impression. They engaged in quiet conversation, Lena mostly just enjoying the scenic route they took through the city, lights flashing as they drove past, over the bridge freeway where a few boats were spotted around the harbour. She barely even noticed the time passing until she felt the limo slowing to a stop, peering outside to see they'd pulled up in front of a mansion sized beach house.

The driver got out, opening the door for them. Lena thanked him, standing and looking up at the size of the building. It had to be at least three stories, with huge open plan windows looking out over the harbour and the shoreline.

“I promise you, it's much more beautiful inside,” Amelie teased, her voice a warm whisper against her ear that took her by surprise. She turned her head, meeting the taller woman's gaze, her amber eyes burning playfully and a smile pulling at her lips.

“Right, sorry. It's just so...” Lena paused, looking back up at the building before formulating her response. “Big.”

A finger played at the collar of her blouse, tracing over the fabric. She swallowed.

“Size is not everything, I assure you,” came the warm response, the French woman's voice just a little lower, and not so much playful as it was making promises she intended to keep.

Lena laughed awkwardly, scrubbing at the back of her hair and not able to make eye contact. She could already feel her stupid ears burning with a blush, but she was grateful for the dim lighting for hopefully hiding it.

“Come, let me show you around,” Amelie spoke, her voice a more normal tone now as she took Lena by the hand and guided her up the steps and into her home.

Amelie pressed a key card against a scanner, the locks on her front door clicking and sliding open. On entering, Lena looked around her in awe. She vaguely heard Amelie telling her it was the foyer, pointing to various items she had on display including a statue of an elegant naked woman that seemed to be calling the viewer towards her.

In a stupor she merely followed her guide around, being shown a music room, a theatre, living room, kitchen and bathrooms. She allowed herself to be guided upstairs, all the way to the third floor. Apparently the second floor was mainly guest rooms and a second entertaining area.

When they reached the third floor landing it opened up into an expansive living area. Another one of those gas powered fire places was set into the far wall lined with cobblestones. There was a steel grey faux rug sprawled in front of it, a few mauve recliners with thick feet that were probably carved out of very expensive wood. Off to the side was a bar, not too dissimilar to the kind found in clubs, just a little smaller.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Amelie offered, turning to face her guest with enquiring eyes. Lena nodded in reply, her head still spinning as she tried to take in the fact that she was in what she could only imagine was a multi-million dollar mansion overlooking the beach, with a very rich, very charming, very gorgeous and very French woman. One- she noted- that seemed to be the most unlikely thing of all; interested in her.

The French woman walked behind the bar, pulling out two scotch glasses. Looking up, she caught Lena's attention.

“Liquor?” she inquired.

“I'd love to-” Lena mumbled, realising at that second she'd said 'liquor' and not 'lick her'. She shook her head, rubbing at her arms. “Rum. I'd love a rum thanks.”

Amelie nodded appreciatively, turning to look at her shelves and running her fingers along all the bottles she had until it came to rest on one. Like everything else around here, it looked expensive.

She popped the cork and poured out two glasses, adding some ice to both drinks. Grabbing the glasses, she motioned towards the love seat that sat adjacent to the fireplace.

“Come, sit with me,” she offered, giving a warm smile.

Lena obliged, following her over. She sat first, watching as Amelie sat right beside her and close enough that their thighs were almost touching. The dark-haired woman handed her her drink, and Lena was all too ready to accept, drinking down several mouthfuls of the liquid courage right there and then. Amelie quirked an eyebrow, but didn't say anything about it.

“So, what do you think?” she asked, looking at Lena with expectant eyes.

A few moments passed, with her chewing on her lip as she tried to formulate a reply.

“It's...” Lena looked around again, trying to really take in everything now. It smelled feminine, soft, a little bit floral. “A lot, not gonna' lie love.”

Amelie tilted her head, eyeing Lena over her glass of rum as she brought it to her lips. “How so?”

Struggling for the right words, the brunette shuffled around a bit, took another swig of the rum. She savoured the way it burned down the back of her throat, but much smoother than the stuff she usually drank. It was good. She stared into her lap.

“Look, you're bloody amazing. I can't believe someone like you would even want someone like me, but we're here. You're here. This place... it's amazing. But it's a world away from what I'm used to. I live in a tiny one bedroom apartment, I eat leftover Chinese and pizza,” Lena paused briefly, starting to feel a little more warm from the rum. Growing a little courage, she met Amelie's eyes. “My bloody toaster broke the other day y'know. I only bought the damn thing a few months ago. How does a toaster even break? I don't just have money to throw around at toasters!”

The woman beside her laughed softly, taking a sip of her drink as she waited for her guest to continue.

“And some kid spilled his juice on me on the train Monday morning. On the way to work, o'course,” she huffed at the memory and having to excuse the big orange patch on her white jeans when she got into the office. She shook her head. “I'm not used to this rich lifestyle, or being pampered in any way really.”

Raising an eyebrow, Amelie placed her free arm along the back of the love seat, her fingers tentatively teasing at the base of Lena's hair.

“And you don't think someone like me would want someone like you?” the French woman enquired, her voice low but warm. The brunette shivered at the light touch playing with her hair.

“Why would ya?”

The fingers slipped from her hair and she suddenly missed the sensation, but watched as Amelie took  her drink from her hand, placing it with her own on the small table in front of them. Turning back, the French woman took both her hands in her own, squeezing them gently.

“Cherie, you are more amazing than you know. You are smart, talented, funny. You have a true eye for fashion, but you are not like everyone else in this industry, non. You have a heart, I've seen it in your writing, your articles and your blogs,” she paused, her fiery eyes boring into hers with a strength of passion. “You have a way about everything you publish that shows the world your compassion, your truth.”

Lena couldn't hold the gaze, the intensity burning inside of her chest as she took in every word. Looking down, she admired how their hands looked together; at some point they had become intertwined, locked together.

“It gets awfully lonely at the top, Lena. No amount of money can change that,” Amelie spoke softly, a hint of sadness in her voice, a sadness that made her look up again. There was a small smile, a wistful one, and a soft laugh.

“You know, when I was a child, I always thought it was so strange when the Princesses in movies always ended up with the Prince. How could they want to be with such a man when there is a gorgeous woman in front of her?”

A laugh escaped Lena at that, memories of her own returning to when she was a clueless young girl with pictures of female pop stars on her wall while all her female friends had men on theirs.

“We all start off as clueless baby gays, then we grow up inta' adult gays who got no clue how to flirt with ladies,” Lena added, nodding her head as she thought about it. Amelie hummed in agreement.

“Or business gets in the way of what we truly want. What we need.”

The French woman squeezed her hands, shuffling closer. Lena met her eyes, glad to see the sadness from before had dissipated but noting there was something else there. There was trepidation, nervousness. Was she... afraid?

“Love, if there's something you wanna ask me I'm all ears.”

Taking the encouragement, Amelie sat up a little straighter, her eyes flitting back and forth as she tried to gauge the situation.

“Lena I-” she stopped, her mouth poised as though to say something else before thinking better of it, taking a steadying breath, then continuing. “I'd very much like to get to know you further in person. To... date you. If you would have me?”

It was such a soft, genuine question that all Lena could do was start grinning like an idiot, a giggle erupting from her throat without her permission.

“Ya' askin' me to be ya' girlfriend?”

Amelie's lips turned up into a shy smile, her cheeks colouring scarlet as she now looked down at their hands as Lena had before. She found it so endearing that someone so powerful, so strong and terrifying in the fashion industry was turning into an unsure, nervous school girl before her.

“Oui,” there was a moment of silence, the dark-haired woman finally gaining a little courage to look up again as her blush subsided. There was a subtle happiness on her face now, and it just made her look even more radiant than she already did.

“I'd like the chance to show you what you've been missing out on all these years,” she added, the corner of her lip turning up into a cheeky smile. Lena caught the teasing, wiggling her eyebrows in response and daring to lean forward a few inches.

“Oh yeah? Why don't ya' show me then.”

Amelie let out a noise that was halfway between a laugh and a scoff, slowly moving in towards Lena, drawn in like a magnet until the very heat of her lips was against her own.

It was such a simple motion, but it sent her head spinning. All her fears and emotions that might have been left over in the back of her mind that Amelie didn't want her seemed to drift away as their mouths pressed against each other more insistently. They were both tentative but eager to explore, equal measures of gentle and firm. Her hands were already roaming the expanse of Amelie's waistline, much to the taller woman's delight, soft airy moans singing from her throat while her body leant into the touch.

She let out a sound of displeasure as her partner moved away from her, but a soothing hand ran through her short hair in a promise that she wasn't going anywhere.

“Stay the night?” Amelie inquired, her voice low and husky, her pupils dilated and her lips full and shimmering from their kissing. Lena had to stop herself from grinning like the cat who got the canary.

“Sure, but I gotta' warn ya', I'm a blanket hog.”

A chuckle escaped the French woman's lips, and she leant in to press another kiss to Lena's mouth.

“Then you'll just have to make sure you keep me warm, hmm?” Amelie ran her thumb across Lena's lower lip, pleased when the smaller woman kissed her digit.

“I think I can manage that,” Lena took a few moments to just enjoy this closeness, bumping their noses together before claiming her lips again in a delicious kiss.

She kept her promise, not once did Amelie go cold throughout the night.

~

[hydrospanners]

Ask meme for Nirea! 2, 4, 5, and 9!!

Thank you for asking!! You are a goddess! I moved #9 up above #5 because I completely lost control and direction with that one and it turned into some kind of weird pseudo-fic and the only apology you’re going to get from me is the cut I put it under because it got so unnecessarily fucking long. Here is the link to the meme!!! I can’t promise all of my answers won’t be so excessive but ask anyway!!

2. Would they be a class specific character? (ie. Imperial Agent only. Republic character only)Nah, fam. Rea could wiggle her way into every class’ story. Whether you keep her or not would depend on your choices/alignment though.

4. Where would you recruit them from? Alderaan. She hates it there and I love to fuck with her.

9. What would they say if you clicked on them? “Hey, did you see that Cathar earlier? With that ass? Damn.”“Wanna see a trick?”“Bet you can’t do this.”“I don’t know whose idea weather was, but they deserve to be punched. A lot.”“I hear ya.”“We should get another droid.”“I just want one day where no one tries to kill me. Is that so much to ask?”“How far do you think I can bend this before it breaks?”“Hey look at this. Think it’s edible?”“Got time for some pazaak? We can play Nar Shaddaa rules.”“Are we there yet?”“Hey, do you smell that? Smells like--Oh. Shit. I think that’s me.”“See that thing over there? I bet you twenty credits I can lift it.”“Don’t mind me. Just admiring the view.”“Spot me a few creds? I’m good for it, I swear.”“You’d be so bored without me.”“Yeah, yeah. I’m with you.”“We have a saying on Corellia: Fuck off, I’m busy.”“Ugh, I’m bored. This is boring.”“Don’t look at me. This is your show.”“It wasn’t me!”“Alright you get first guess this time, chief. Is it mud or is it blood? Right there on my leg.”“Don’t worry, chief. I can’t resist me either.”

5. What would their recruitment mission be? It’s an ordinary sort of day in your extraordinary level 30 life. You’re just doing your thing, fighting crime, doing crime, rescuing random people and murdering somewhat less random people. You’re headed to Alderaan for your own reasons.

That’s when you get a call from whoever it is that’s always calling you with problems that only you can solve. From whoever usually preaches to you about duty, who gives you orders or threatens your life or just offers you good old-fashioned credits in exchange for your services, like any sensible person would. There’s a problem, they tell you. (There’s always a problem.) It’s a mission gone sideways, a crashed ship with a not entirely inconsequential Jedi on board who may or may not have gone rogue. Information is scarce, danger is guaranteed, and the problem is on Alderaan where the political situation is too unstable for any big, bold moves.

You take the job. It’s already on your way, and besides, you see potential in it. Potential good, potential credits, potential prestige. The potential to quiet your insatiable bloodlust, however temporarily. Whatever it is you’re looking for.

The Republic bosses want answers. What happened to the ship? To the mission? To the Jedi? They want you to bring her back into the fold if you can. They don’t say what to do if you can’t, but you can guess. The Imperial bosses want an edge. They want whatever was on that ship, but mostly they want the Jedi. She’s a thorn in the Imperial side and if they can’t make use of her, if she hasn’t fallen like rumor suggests, they want her out of the way.

Maybe you ask what the ship’s mission was, what the Jedi was even doing there. Maybe you know better than to ask questions. Regardless, the only information you get is a name.

Nirea Velaran.

A human woman, physically formidable for her species and notoriously unpredictable. She’s good with words and better with lightsabers and ‘dangerous’ is the only thing anyone will say about her for sure. That, and she’s Corellian.

It’s not the profile you’re used to for Jedi. Maybe that peaks your curiosity. Maybe it worries you. Maybe a job is a job and you don’t give a fuck about the details.

On Alderaan you follow the columns of smoke to a small lake nestled between snow-capped peaks, an oasis that might have been peaceful before a small frigate blew a crater into the mountain. The ship is split down the middle, its innards scattered across the ice. You don’t see any bodies, but your scanners detect something alive and moving in the wreckage.

You find a scavver in the remains of the ship’s engine room, greasy and poorly-clothed, elbow deep in the ship’s hyperdrive. The only weapon you can see is a shock stick that’s seen better days, leaning against the wall on the other side of the room.

She’s unconcerned by you and your armed companions. Asks if you’re in the market for an Aratech repulsion compensator. They’re hard to find, she promises, because Aratech pulled out of the hyperdrive manufacturing business almost as soon as they got into it. They make good speeders and, in her opinion, they ought to stick with that. She promises to give you a good price on account of her not having to haul it down the mountain if you buy it up here. She also tells you how the Jedi wasn’t interested on account of not having a ship anymore.

Maybe you notice the knowing gleam in her blue eyes, maybe you don’t. Either way, this scavver has information you want. You negotiate. With charm, with reason, with threats. It doesn’t matter how. You get what you want in the end, just like you always do.

The scavver takes you to the ship’s bridge, where she says she met the Jedi earlier. You find a Republic Senator’s corpse on the floor, two distinct lightsaber wounds in their chest, but none of the carbon scoring you’d expect from a fight. You get what you can from the ship’s damaged computers, but it doesn’t amount to much more than navcharts, a manifest, and escape pod launch records. When you turn to ask the scavver where the Jedi was headed, you find that she is gone and the path out of the bridge is sealed behind you.

You make a new path, of course. You always do.

The scavver’s trail predictably takes you back to your ship. The good news is that it’s still there. The bad news is your protocol droid is disassembled with apparent care, lying in a neat pile at the top of the boarding ramp. The word sorry is scrawled across its forehead in very poor handwriting using what you suspect to be lipstick. From the loving way the droid was taken apart, you guess the message isn’t for you.

There is no apology scrawled on the floor where one of your speeders used to be.

You follow your speeder--a simple task with all of your skills and your crew and your resources--to a valley below the crashsite, where the plains of pristine snow are pocked with scorched-black escape pods. Dozens upon dozens upon dozens of them, their hatches all hanging open. A path of brown mud and green grass marks the slow march of their inhabitants out of the valley.

There is another ship at the other end of the path. A freighter, small enough you aren’t sure it can even carry the hundreds of people slowly shuffling aboard. They are aliens, all of them, and clad in identical grey jumpsuits. You catch the gleam of metal around some of their wrists and ankles.

The scavver watches you from the ground beside the boarding ramp. Maybe you already guessed and maybe you didn’t, but you see now that she’s not what she seemed. The shabby cloaks and scarves have been thrown off, leaving her in a Jedi-brown combat suit she wears like a second skin, a lightsaber at each hip, standing tall and sure. The Force swirls around her in a storm of certainty and power and even if you can’t feel that sort of thing, there’s something about the way she holds herself that tells you it’s there all the same.

This is your objective. This is Nirea Velaran.

She tosses you a careless grin as the freighter’s aftermarket guns spin round to face you. You could perhaps kill her before they get you, but you wouldn’t survive to enjoy the rewards of a job well done. She tells you this doesn’t have to be stupid and you don’t have much choice but to talk. To let her explain.

What she tells you is an indictment of the Republic’s system of law, a story of a prison that’s little more than a slave mill for aliens, of Senators that blithely profit from the gaps deliberately written in their own laws. A story of the Jedi Master who knew about it and did nothing, who sent her to prop up something broken, who cared more about law than justice. It’s the story of a Jedi Knight who murdered a Senator in cold blood and will die before apologizing for it.

She’s cavalier about what she’s done, but passionate about her reasons for doing it. Whatever the price of this liberation turns out to be, she’s clearly prepared to pay it. Clearly prepared to ensure its success no matter what it does to her.

The boarding ramp begins to rise as the last of the prisoners scrambles aboard. You don’t know if she planned for the ship to leave without her, but she doesn’t seem to care. The guns remain fixed on your position.

You consider your options as your target considers you. Her attention slices through you like a laser, hot and sharp and precise. Looking for something specific, you think, and you can’t tell from her inscrutable expression whether she found it.

When she’s seen what she needs to, she offers you some flattery and a gratuitous wink. Maybe you appreciate it; maybe you don’t. She asks for a ride off this shit planet. Promises to put your droid back together and put a little life into your drab little ship. Mentions how it’s generally better to have someone with a talent for destruction and mayhem working for you than than against you. And maybe she hints that she’s got talents beyond wanton chaos. Maybe she offers to show you what they are.

Accepting her offer will have consequences. This Jedi is the sort of person who wears trouble like a signature fragrance. You are familiar enough with trouble by now to know you can’t stand that close to its storm without being swept up yourself. But maybe you can make that storm work for you. Maybe it’s your kind of storm.

Or maybe it isn’t. Maybe you have enough trouble of your own. Maybe you aren’t interested in the kind of trouble a willful, bleeding-heart Jedi carries with her.

She watches you with a look that’s shameless and hungry and not entirely trustworthy. There’s a kind of calculation to the fire behind her eyes and a tension in her body that tells you time is short. You ask yourself: is Nirea Velaran a risk worth taking?