#then yesterday morning shes released from the hospital and winds up in the same place that dismissed her the 1st time in the evening

[protosstar]

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[playingcupid-betweenidiots]

Through Her Shadows

Synopsis: Y/N fled her small hometown years ago, haunted by the relentless bullying from the towns popular boy, the one who made her an outcast. When a family pressure brings her back, she's stunned to find that same boy has changed. Seeking redemption, he apologizes and reveals the pain he hid behind his cruelty.

Pairing: Engineer!Jake x Doctor! Reader

Note: This like my second imagine and the first one which is so long, if you want a part two of this then please let me know. I've wanted to start the New Year with something I love to do but haven't done in so long. Requests are open and I will try to get them done in time before exam season (which I might not have a lot of this year)

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December 2024

"Mom you know I can't get leave at such a short notice.....", I say to my mother on the phone while getting ready for work, "Y/N honey I know but grandma wants to see you, she wants you to come celebrate the holiday with us at least once". I sigh, "mom you know I don't want to come back", I lock my door and head for the bus stop, "honey I know but she wants to see you at least once she says she wants to see you at least once before her times up", I sigh and roll my eyes at my grandmothers dramatics. "I'll see what I can do, you know the hospital doesn't do leave on such short notice", "I know but thank you, I'll make your favorite when you get here", I chuckle, "Thanks mom talk to you later". After hanging up my bus arrived, I sat down and looked out the window.

September 2016

"Move out of my way orphan!", Someone shoves past me, my back hits the wall, "What the fuck!", I say glaring at the person, "Aw is someone mad, why don't you go ask your dad to console you oh oops forgot he doesn't exist for you", the girl laughed in my face. I felt myself growing angry but I knew I couldn't do anything. I can't afford another fight. One more outburst, and I might get expelled, my mother- she can't afford another tarnish to her reputation. I can't do that to her. Not after everything. I sigh and turn around. "Hey nerd, cat got your tongue", I hear the voice of the one who started this all, Jake Sim. This man hated me for no apparent reason, the second I stepped foot into this school he acted like the I was the sole reason of the world being a shitty place. "Don't you have better things to do Sim", "Nah putting someone like you in their place is the most entertaining thing for me so no I don't have better things to do," Jake taunts, his smirk wide and cruel. My stomach twists, but I bite down the anger that bubbles up and turn on my heel and walk away.

April 2017

The hallway buzz with the last-day excitement, but it feels like I'm moving in slow motion. Everyone else is heading to class, packing their things, making plans for the summer, and saying goodbye to our youth. Meanwhile, I feel like I'm just a marking in time, waiting for the bell to ring so I can disappear in the crowd and hopefully be forgotten or be a distant memory. Either way I hope to be a drifting memory like the wind.

The morning after graduation is eerily quiet. The streets are still, the excitement of yesterday already fading into the past. Staring at the suitcase in front of me, half-packed, my hands hover over the clothes inside. I don't move to finish, it doesn't feel real. Graduation was a blur-more like a ceremony I had to get through than something I should've been excited about and how could I be excited, I was finally getting away from the place and people who made my life a living nightmare I couldn't wake up from. Everyone else was celebrating, and I was just.........there. I stand finally forcing myself to finish packing, though part of me was still stuck in yesterday-still stuck in the echoes of his taunts, the heat of anger that I never got to release. But I can't let this tie me down. This town. These people. Him. It's all in the past now.

The suitcase is packed. The door to my room is open. I stand in the doorway, looking back at the life I've come to resent. Everything feels strangely.....mute. The memories of school, of classmates, of fights I never wanted to have-they all blur together, like fading colors in a forgotten painting. I grab my coat, pull it on, and step outside. My mom's car is already idling by the curb, the engine humming softly in the morning silence. Her face drawn, but she says nothing as I get in. She doesn't have to. We both know what today means. "Ready?" she asks, her voice quiet, tentative. I nod, a tightness in my chest that I can't quite explain. "Yeah....ready."

And for the first time, I don't look back.

Present day

I shake my head coming back to reality, there is no good for me to be hung up in the past now. I get off at my stop and head inside the hospital, people greeted me as I walked to the locker room to change into my uniform. Once I am done I head out and to the nurse station. "Chaemin good morning, what's the schedule for today?" I ask as I go over the file of my patients. "Good morning to you too doctor, today you have consultation....." she goes on about my day and I nod.

After a hectic day I sighed feeling happy since my boss allowed me to take leave for the holiday. I get on the bus and call my mom. "Mom I'm coming over for the holidays" I could hear her squeal in excitement, "Oh my goodness I am so happy to hear that I know grandma is going to be so happy." I chuckle and continue to talk to her until I get home and start packing.

Once I got to my parents house I sighed, it's been years since I came back here. I went in and was immediately tackled in a hug. I laughed "Soobin long time", I say to my cousin. "You idiot you haven't come to see us in so long I thought you forgot about us," "how could I when you are so annoying anyone could remember you," he scoffs at my words "as if you are any better", I punch him in the rib "hey!" I exclaim. Soobin scoffs and rolls his eyes, but there's no malice behind it. It feels good to be back in the warmth of family after everything I've been through. It's been so long since I felt this sense of belonging. The house was filled with warmth, laughter, and the sounds of dinner being prepared. I settled in my old room, a bit smaller than I remembered, but it had the same familiar organization-my pens being in a clear box separated in different colors and my books being set to one side. It felt like a time capsule of my younger self.

As the evening unfolded, we ate dinner together, my grandma gushing over how I am finally home for the holidays. Soobin and I bickered like we used to, my aunt chided us both for making too much noise, and my uncle shared stories from his job he got this summer. We all laughed, and for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel alone. I didn't feel like an outsider. It was just...normal. After dinner, we played a few rounds of different games. Me and Soobin teamed up and though we lost miserably, we had fun. We all laughed, and I couldn't help but feel a warmth that had been missing from my life for far too long.

As the last of the laughter died down and the kitchen light was switched off, I grabbed my jacket and stepped outside, needing a bit of space after a long day of family time. The quiet of the neighborhood wrapped around me, and I started walking aimlessly down the street. I hadn't been back here in so long, and everything felt so different, but somehow, it felt the same. The houses, the trees lining the sidewalks-it all brought back memories I had tucked away for years. There was a kind of peace in the stillness of the night. I kept walking, not really sure where I was going, just needing to clear my head. The night seemed to stretch on, and I lost track of time, the quiet rhythm of my footsteps accompanying my wandering thoughts. But then, just as I rounded the corner, I heard a familiar voice, one I wished not to run into during this trip.

"Well, well......Look who's back." I froze. The voice was unmistakable. Jake Sim. Of course, why wouldn't he show up now? I turned, and there he was, leaning against a lamppost, his usual smirk plastered over his face, but something was different-he wasn't as cocky as usual. His shoulders were a bit slumped, and his gaze didn't quite meet mine at first. "What do you want, Sim Jaeyun?" I asked, my tone neutral, though the resentment I'd felt towards him for so long was still lurking in the background. Jake seemed to hesitate for a moment before pushing himself off the lamppost. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, a gesture I hadn't seen from him before. His usual bravado was gone, replaced by something...apologetic. "I-" he began, stopping himself, his voice softer than I could ever remember and imagine. "Look, I know I've been an asshole. And ... well, I don't know why I've treated you like that. You didn't deserve it."

I blinked, surprised by the shift in his tone. Sim Jake, apologizing? I wasn't sure how to process it, but there was no mistaking the sincerity in his voice now. It felt like he actually mean it. But then I started to get angry. "I guess I've just... had this stupid idea-" "Stop" my voice hiding what I was truly feeling. Jake froze, "What?" "Stop it Jake, you can't... don't do this to me..." For a moment, I just stood there, it was hard to believe that this was the same guy who made my life miserable for so long. But here he was, looking at me with this raw honesty that made me feel nauseous. I crossed my arms, "you hurt me," I said softly, my voice calm but firm. Jake nodded, a quiet acceptance in his eyes. He took a deep breath. "I don't expect you to forgive me right away. Hell, I wouldn't blame you if you never did. But... I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry for being a jerk to you." The sincerity in his apology was like a weight lifting off my chest. It didn't fix everything, and it certainly didn't make up for years of pain, but hearing him say it-hearing him admit that he was wrong-was enough to shift something inside me. It wasn't about forgiveness, not yet anyway. But it was a start.

"Please leave Jake, I want to be alone right now" I said turning away from him. "Y/N..." he was gonna say something but then he stopped, he turned and walked away, his steps slower and more thoughtful than usual. I watched him go, not sure what to make of it all, but something inside me told me this was the beginning of something new-not just for him, but for me too. I continued my walk, my thoughts being a little messed up after the meeting with Jake. I knew the past didn't have to define me anymore.

January 2025

Over the next few weeks, every encounter with Jake felt like another step into a tangled web I wasn’t sure how to navigate. I couldn’t help but notice how different he seemed—his posture, the way his eyes avoided mine as if he feared I might see the truth he wasn’t ready to share. Every time we crossed paths, there was a weight in the air, thick and suffocating, and I couldn’t figure out if it was because of the past, or something else.

The third time I saw him was at the local bookstore. I’d been wandering the aisles, looking for something to distract me from everything that had been swirling in my mind. I didn’t notice him at first, but I heard his voice—the same voice that used to sneer at me in the halls of high school, the same voice that would whisper insults as he passed me by.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice quiet but filled with something unrecognizable.

I froze. I didn’t want to turn around, didn’t want to face the man who had made my teenage years a living nightmare. But something in his tone stopped me. It wasn’t the arrogant, dismissive Jake I used to know. This time, his words were softer, hesitant.

Slowly, I turned to face him. My eyes met his, and I saw it—the guilt, the regret, the longing. It hit me harder than I expected, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

“Jake,” I said, my voice careful. "What do you want?"

He flinched, as if my words physically hurt him. But when he spoke, there was no trace of the old Jake, the one who had laughed at my expense, the one who’d made me feel small.

“I just... I’ve been trying to find the right words to say,” he started, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, his voice trembling with something I couldn’t place. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I have to say it, even if it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

I blinked, trying to make sense of his words. "Forgiveness?" The word felt strange coming from him, so foreign, so different from the boy who once tormented me. "Jake, what are you talking about?"

He took a step closer, then hesitated, as if unsure of how much distance he could close before I would push him away. "I know I hurt you, Y/N. I was awful, and I... I didn’t even realize what I was doing. I was cruel. I—" His voice broke, and I saw a flash of pain cross his face, something raw and real that I had never expected from him. "I wish I could take it all back. I wish I could undo all the times I made you feel worthless. I wish I could make up for the things I did to you."

The words hung in the air, and I could feel the sincerity in his voice. But I couldn’t let myself forget what he had done. Couldn’t let myself forget the way his cruelty had shattered my self-worth, how I had spent years fighting to rebuild the person I used to be.

“You can’t just apologize for all of it and expect everything to be okay, Jake,” I said, my voice trembling despite myself. “What you did... it changed me. I’m not the same person I was before.”

His eyes dropped to the floor, and I saw his chest tighten with a deep breath, as if the weight of his regret was physically painful. “I know. And I don’t expect you to forget it. I don’t even deserve your forgiveness. But I need you to know that I would do anything to make it right. Anything to... to earn back some of the trust I ruined.”

I shook my head, feeling a storm of emotions rising within me. "Why now?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "Why come to me now, after all these years?"

Jake looked up, his eyes filled with an ache that made my chest tighten. “Because I can’t live with myself knowing what I did to you. I’ve spent so much time trying to push it all down, pretending it didn’t matter, but it does. You do. You always have, even when I was too stupid to see it.”

His words struck me harder than I expected, but the pain from all those years of torment still lingered, still pulsed through my veins. I couldn’t just forgive him because he was sorry now. That wasn’t how it worked.

“Jake,” I started, taking a step back, feeling the distance between us grow. “You can’t fix the past. You can’t undo the damage.”

He stepped closer again, his eyes never leaving mine, and the way he looked at me... it was almost as if he was pleading with me, silently begging me to understand.

“I know I can’t undo it,” he said, voice tight, almost desperate. “But I’m asking for a chance. Not for your forgiveness right now—maybe I don’t deserve it. But I want to show you that I’ve changed. I want you to see that I’m not the same person I was back then. I’m so sorry for everything, Y/N. I can’t take it back, but I can try to be better. For you.”

There was a tremor in his voice, a rawness that made something inside of me ache. For the first time, I saw Jake as he truly was—vulnerable, remorseful, and… yearning. Not just for my forgiveness, but for something deeper. Something more.

And as much as I wanted to push him away, to tell him it was too late, to remind him of everything he had done... part of me couldn’t help but wonder if he meant it. If he really had changed.

“I don’t know what to say,” I whispered, my heart pulling in two different directions. “I need time, Jake. I need time to even... understand this.”

His face fell, and for a brief moment, I saw the hope in his eyes die. But then, almost like he couldn’t help it, he stepped closer again, his voice barely audible. “I’ll wait, Y/N. However long it takes. I’ll wait for you. Because I... I don’t know what I’d do if you couldn’t find it in yourself to forgive me. Or... if you couldn’t even... love me again.”

The words hit me like a wave. He hadn’t just come for my forgiveness. He had come because he needed more than that. He needed my love.

But I wasn’t ready.

Not yet.

And as I turned to leave, I couldn’t help but feel the ache of his longing in my chest, too.

[jetaime-jespere]

Prompt #36/129

#36: I don’t know who I am without you / #129. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you.

It isn’t the first time Aaron comes to see her with flowers in hand, and it doesn’t make visiting her grave any easier, or any less painful.

Flowers became a thing early on, starting with their first date several months before. Aaron had been anxious in the hours leading up to it - distracted all day, letting his eyes linger on her a few seconds too long here and there. It’s clear something was up. He assumed Dave must have overheard him confirming with Jessica about picking Jack up from his playdate, and that he’ll pick him up from her place around nine. All day he’d dodged the carefully timed stares, a few subtle winks whenever Emily’s back was turned.

“Got a date?” Dave asked casually on their way out, much later that afternoon, keeping his eyes forward as the elevator doors closed. But he’d smiled, which suggests he definitely overheard, and has all but figured out why Aaron is leaving so uncharacteristically early.

Aaron plays dumb, scrambling for an excuse for his early departure, and manages something out about a friend being in town. Dave had simply laughed. “Emily likes flowers,” he’d said as Aaron held his briefcase with a slightly sweaty hand. “I hope you picked some out.”

The quirk of an eyebrow, and the amusement hidden in the subtle contours of Aaron’s face all but give him away, the exact reason now known. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dave.” It’s an attempt in vain.

“But you do, and before you even ask how, just know I have my ways.”

Aaron had never been happier to see elevator doors open. What he doesn’t tell Dave is that he’s had flowers figured out already, for a few days now.

He remembers that night - their first date - like it was yesterday; it’s never fully dissipated from his mind. She’d been wearing blue - cerulean, to be specific - and she blushed ever so slightly when he handed her the bouquet of Dahlias and told her she looked beautiful.

Their reservation (at a Tapas bar close to the National Mall) had mysteriously gotten deleted, leaving them without a table only after they arrived at the restaurant. Emily had laughed despite Aaron’s visible frustration, taking the whole thing in stride as she tucked her hand in his arm. Instead, they ended up walking around the Monuments and eating street tacos from a food truck wrapped in heavy coats. Despite the cold, it was light, fun, and as he dropped her off in front of her building, he’d kissed her - brief, but full, his lips on hers a promise of a second date sooner rather than later.

There was indeed a second date; this one to an antique bookstore in Alexandria followed by coffee on a chilly Sunday morning. The threat of snow later that afternoon hadn’t deterred them. Aaron brings her flowers again - lilies - and she’d held them to her nose for the briefest of seconds as the blush rose to her cheeks once more. The second date was three weeks after the first, thanks to a barrage of cases that seemed to multiply, one right after the other, at a relentless rate with little time for anything else, let alone any semblance of a personal life.  And yet, they picked up right where they left off, the same easy banter and familiarity that comes with years of knowing someone as well as they do. He kisses her again, this time bringing a hand to her hair and another around her back, pulling her in close. It’s not even a question if there will be a third date when they pull away, breathless.

Their third date was Valentine’s Day, and she’d come to his place for the first time in over a year, since the days after Foyet threatened to rip his family apart. Aaron bought roses - two dozen red ones - as cliché as it was, handing them to her when she’d arrived. She’d beamed as she shook the light dusting of snowflakes off her shoulders, apologizing for her lateness, murmuring that the flowers were beautiful. He’d planned on making her dinner but instead he’d taken her to bed, leaving their clothes scattered across the living room floor. Emily was beautiful beneath him; her long legs wrapped around his waist as he’d learned her, taking his time finding all the places that made her moan. Her fingers tangled in his hair when he’d kissed his way down the flat planes of her stomach and between her legs, her hands gripped his shoulders as he thrusted into her, she’d lowered herself down to press her chest against his, his arms wrapped around her as she rode him to completion with his own finish coming in the seconds after her own.

Aaron also ruined their dinner during their preoccupation - overcooked the steak and burnt the potatoes to a blackened crisp, rendering it all inedible. With a sheet wrapped around her chest, Emily had reached for her phone and ordered pizza, which they ate in bed straight out of the box. “The best Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had,” she’d whispered in his ear much later, her lips smoothing down his jaw as she pushed him onto his back, a devious grin on her face. Hours later, he repeated her words right back to her, pressing kisses to her lips.

It all fell apart shortly after that.

Date number four was cruelly ripped right out of their hands as Emily slipped away, literally and figuratively, the threat of Ian Doyle becoming a reality. She’d withdrawn, becoming distant and even secretive, slipping into briefings late and sneaking clandestine glances at her phone throughout the day. Aaron had been oblivious to the truth (she hid that from all of them), but he knew something was direly wrong.

Two weeks after she cancelled their fourth date with a heaviness in her voice that culminated over the last few weeks, he heard the name Lauren Reynolds for the first time. And about ten days after that, he signed the paperwork that essentially rendered Emily Prentiss dead.

So now, Aaron always brings her flowers. It feels wrong not to, because he always has. This time he brings Irises; Emily likes those. She told him that once, back when he hung on every word she said, his brain absorbing every last detail of her to commit to memory. Now those memories come back and haunt him like a curse. The car door slams but he doesn’t hear it, and he adjusts the hood of his jacket and tucks his keys into his pocket. He keeps his head down, grateful for the soft rain that falls in the summer wind like a whisper as he maneuvers through the gate, stepping over the neat landscaping. Every step he takes brings him closer to her yet she’s never been further away from him, and he finally releases the breath he’s been holding when he sits down next to her headstone.

“Hi,” Aaron says softly, fumbling with the stems in his hands as he sets them down beside the ones he’d brought the other day, brushing his fingers over the cold marble headstone. “I miss you, you know. I’m sorry it’s been a few days. It was a hell of a week.” Being here is a familiar ritual, one that brings him an unexplainable bit of comfort and yet a profound sense of grief. It’s been four months since they buried an empty casket into the ground as she convalesced in the hospital. Four months since he explained to Jack with as much patience as he could muster that Emily had to go away for awhile, possibly forever, and calmly answered his son’s questions even as his own heart was shattering into pieces.

Aaron supposes it feels mildly silly, talking to someone who isn’t even there, spiritually or whatever, because what most don’t know is she’s not even dead.

She may as well be. Those were her words, not his. It’s what she said in the days after Boston, still too weak to travel but awake and fully cognizant, the impending reality looming in the distance. Aaron had sat at her side, as close as he could get without physically climbing into the bed with her, his hand a fixture in hers for the better part of the two weeks she’d spent there.

“These nurses are like drill sergeants,” Emily had groaned one afternoon after she’d taken a few laps around the floor, pushing a walker with Aaron hovering at her side, a protective hand on her back. It took nearly all of her energy; her eyelids had fluttered within minutes of returning to her bed.

“They’re supposed to help you get better, you know.” And while he can’t help but feel proud of her for how far she’s come, her returning strength is a reminder that soon enough she’ll vanish from their lives, unceremoniously, as if she never existed at all.

Her grave is the only place he feels close to her, as if she, wherever she is, might be there in some way too. It’s where Aaron talks to her, tells her the mundane things about life - the life that has seemingly paused since she left- anecdotes about Jack’s soccer team, Dave’s new car, every now and then he’ll mention a case. Sometimes it’s a haze of confusion, asking the questions he most likely will never get answers to, his voice breaking at the most simple, yet complicated of them all. Why? How?

Other days, it’s grief that courses through his veins and clouds his heart, like a vice grip around his windpipe that makes every intake of breath more painful than the last. They all feel her absence; a numbness has enveloped them all in the last couple of weeks especially. But he bears the pain of knowing the truth and being responsible for the secret they’ve held to keep her safe. Today is one of those days.

“I wish I could be angry with you,” he says, never taking his eyes off the headstone. “For what you put us through.” He’s tried that. Anger never lasts long, because Aaron sees her face in his mind, full of poorly concealed fear as he and JJ had passed over the dossier of new identities into her hands, signifying the beginning of the end.

“Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you,” Aaron chokes through the mounting thickness in his throat. “It’s not the same without you. Nothing is.” His face is wet, and it’s not because of the rain. Most of his visits end this way, and he takes the long way back home to pull himself together. “We miss you. I miss you.”

It’s getting harder to breathe, harder to conceal the sobs that are coming like the stormcloud in the distance, and he buries his face in his hands to cry because there’s nothing left he can do. “I don’t know who I am without you, Emily.”

There’s a rustling in the trees behind him sometime later. If he closes his eyes he can almost hear her footsteps behind him, sure and steady. Aaron can’t bring himself to turn around because she won’t be there - she’s already gone.

“I love you,” he whispers, knowing he should have said it a long time ago.

[anotheronechicagobog]

Functional Dysfunction - Chapter 2 - Rheese

written by @anotheronechicagobog

Warnings: talk about abortion, unplanned pregnancy, forceful admittance to hospital, swearing

Sarah was so thankful that she had a day off. She didn’t think that she could handle an interrogation. Not from Maggie or Natalie individually, much less so together. Her abortion was scheduled to take place in three days, she’d arranged to have that day off too, but for now, all Sarah wanted was to keep her mind off of everything, so she tied her curly hair into a bun, started blasting ABBA and cleaning her apartment. She’d gotten into the zone and hadn’t comprehended the time until she’d hit her shin on her coffee table for the umpteenth time while dancing around using her duster both as a cleaning tool and a mic. She plopped down onto her couch and looked at her work. She wasn’t a neat freak, but her place was usually pretty clean. Yes she’ll leave far too many books out on the coffee table, she doesn’t vacuum every week, and she refuses to buy dishes that can’t go in the dishwasher, but there’s no mold or layers of dust or strange smells, and she can always find what she needs when she needs it. But now, everything was put away, there wasn’t a stray coffee mug or spoon out on the counter, her apartment smelled like lemon Mr. Clean, and she was starving. 

She untied her hair as she made her way down the street, letting the wind blow through it, cooling her from head to toe. She cut through the park, just enjoying the fall colours and not being drowned in stress for once. She let her mind wander, from a new Harry Potter fan theory she’d read on Tumblr to what she was going to get when she got to the Mills family diner. Her musing was cut short when she smacked right into someone. Her flustered apology was halted in her throat when the person gently held her arms to stabilize her. They were familiar, she’d felt them yesterday when she stood up too fast. She looked up as he released her. “Dr. Rhodes, sorry about that. I was a little lost in my head.”

“No worries, truthfully, I was spaced out too. And seriously, you can call me Connor, at least outside of work.” And for the first time, ever probably, Sarah took a good look at him. 

Though he smiled, it didn’t reach his eyes. They were a piercing blue, but they looked so... Tired. There was a discernible aching sorrow vividly holding his soul hostage. His hair was mussed and it looked like he’d been trying to yank parts of it from his scalp. His shoulders, while strong and broad, were incredibly tense. Sarah actually started to feel pain in hers just looking at him. His skin clung closer to his body than it probably should have, and his pallor making her uneasy. He moved his hands back to his sides, and in all honesty that was probably the most concerning part of him. People often made the mistake of thinking surgeons had soft hands, but that wasn’t true. They didn’t get callouses from their jobs, but their hands were by no means soft. They had to thoroughly wash their hands, forearms, and elbows, before and after every surgery or medical procedure they performed. Plus they had to use hand sanitizer before and after they worked on or even met with a patient. It took a toll on their skin, and you could often tell how much a surgeon had been working based on the condition of their skin. And Rh-Connor’s... It was dark pink, going into his sleeves so she couldn’t see how far up the problem extended to, the skin was cracking, and it felt like scales as opposed to skin.

“Alright, Connor, what are you up to?”

“I’m just walking, I guess.”

“It’s a nice day for it. How’s Robin doing? I haven’t seen her in a while.” A dark look crossed his face and Sarah immediately kicked herself, this was obviously a very stressful, very private, matter that she had just callously asked about. Yes, she had a lot going on, but she should have realized that there was a reason. A secret. “I’m so sorry I didn’t-”

“Robin’s been admitted to psych.” Connor hadn’t told anyone, and had gone to great lengths to keep it as much of a secret as possible. She worked there, her father worked there, he worked there, none of them needed Robin’s situation to be broadcast all over the hospital. But honestly, it felt great to tell someone, to tell Sarah, someone who wasn’t directly involved. Dealing with Dr. Charles throughout, the man who’d forcibly admitted his daughter to psych in the first place, and Ms. Goodwin who supported Dr. Charles, as well as all the staff treating Robin, was exhausting. 

“What?” 

“Robin was admitted to psych... By Dr. Charles.”

“Oh my god, are you serious? Is that even legal?!”

“It’s... Yeah, it’s a whole thing... Situation. Wow, uh, TMI, I guess. Sorry to spring all of that on you. What are you up to?”

“Uh, well, still pregnant, still getting an abortion. I was just going to get lunch. At the Mills family diner? Uh, I’ve spent the whole day cleaning and avoiding Maggie, and Dr. Manning, and J- the father. You could come, if you want, to the diner I mean, not avoiding the father of- okay this has gotten...” Connor just chuckled, his eyes starting to look slightly less miserable. “I probably won’t be good company, but if you don’t mind...?”

“Not at all, come on, and I’m sure that you’ll be great company.”

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Lunch was surprisingly pleasant. It was awkward at first, but they found a rhythm. Honestly, they just ended up spending the entire time talking about Parks and Rec and Supernatural. It was so nice to talk about anything other than work and the plights in their lives. Connor looked slightly less strung out than when Sarah had first run into him. He seemed a little lighter and his smile really seemed more like a relief to himself. When he first gave Sarah that face-splitting, teeth=showing, jubilant smile he seemed to have shocked himself, confusion plastered all over his face, before a gentle smile flittered in and his body visibly released tension. Since then, he hadn’t stopped smiling, beaming brightly at her. Sarah briefly wondered if he’d smiled at all recently, with how turbulent his life has been. The silence between them was soft and warm. Comforting. They took the time to regard each other without any pressure or professional constraints, and it was nice. Connor sat across from her munching away on his corned beef sandwich, occasionally slurping away at his chocolate milkshake. The vigour with which he’d been eating made her wonder if he was actually taking care of himself. She took another bite of her Gabby’s mac ‘n cheese and savoured... Everything. The taste, her company, the atmosphere, this moment in time was the least hectic or nerve-wracking she’d had since she noticed her cycle was off. So she was just enjoying it while it lasted.

“You okay, Sarah?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“You just seem sluggish. And we’ve been here for a while and you’ve barely made a dent in your food, plus you’re drinking peppermint tea.”

“My morning sickness hasn’t been great, if I’m honest. This is normally my favourite thing on the menu, and I don’t normally like pancakes because they’re so starchy but lately they’re all I’ve been wanting to eat! It’s so annoying. This at least has chicken and loads of vegetables. And hey, pregnancy is tiring! I’m always so sore and achy. Plus caffeine withdrawal is ripping me a new one.”

“You know, if you’re having an abortion, you don’t necessarily have to abide by all the pregnancy can’ts. They won’t really matter, anyway. So, why are you following all the guidelines?”

“I don’t know. It just feels like... They’re still here. They still matter. I’m still their mom, I still have to take care of them.” She shrugged a little and stared at the rim of her white mug, fiddling with the handle. Unable to handle the weight of Connor’s gaze and her own words.

“Maybe you should have ordered the chicken noodle soup. Their recipe is really good, plus it’ll be light on your stomach.” Her eyes snapped to his. There was nothing but sincerity looking back at her. There was a little concern, and the question she’d been avoiding suddenly became tangible and took a seat beside her, whispering ‘are you sure you want an abortion?’ delicately in her ear. But he didn’t ask her. He didn’t make any comments or judgments. He was just there, across from her, offering her kindness and food. She moved the plate away from in front of her and smiled sheepishly at him as he flagged down Peter. “Hey guys, is everything alright? Reese, you’ve hardly touched your food.”

“She’s not feeling super great, do you think we could get a bowl of chicken noodle and a container for the pasta?”

“Yeah, no problem Rhodes, everything will be right out.”

“Connor, you don’t have to do this, but I do really appreciate it.”

“Good, because I appreciate you too and everything that you’re doing for me. Don’t look so confused, you’ve been a great sounding board and distraction. And I honestly really needed that. Plus, I figured that since I’ve got dirt on you so you can’t tell anyone about the Robyn thing.” There was absolutely no malice in his words and Sarah couldn’t help but laugh. It really was a relief to have someone to talk to about her baby, and he was right, if he did suddenly just spill the beans she could do the same in retaliation. She doubted he ever would though, he was an incredibly private person and valued privacy more than Ron Swanson. “Doris would have a field day with us, wouldn’t she?”

“Oh hell, Sarah, don’t even joke about that. If she knew...” She laughed again at his overdramatic shudder. But she knew he was right. No one could know. Especially not Doris.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was late in the day when they finally left the diner, the air cooling down from crisp to chilly, the winds much harsher and stronger than usual. Sarah’s apartment was only a ten-minute walk away but Connor insisted on taking her home. She’d managed to talk him out of walking her to her door, but not of driving her there. “What kind of guy would I be if I let a pregnant woman walk home alone when the weather just got worse?” Something in his tone, and the way he spoke so freely about her pregnancy, made her think that he knew something she wasn’t willing to consider just yet, but she was trying not to think about it. Instead, she focused on the interior of Connor’s luxury car. “Is this silver? On the door handles?”

“No... It’s platinum.”

“Really?!”

“Yes. What, do you want to hear about all the extravagant features in this car?”

“Oh absolutely.”

“Seriously?”

“Mostly cause I know it annoys you, but yeah.”

“Well, another time then, because we are here.”

“After a two-minute car ride. I could have walked myself.”

“I grew up here, you didn’t, when the wind gets that bad it’s best to avoid the outdoors.”

“Alright, well thanks for the ride and for looking out for my safety.”

“No problem, I’ll see you at work tomorrow, right?”

“Depends. I’ll spend most of the day avoiding Maggie and Manning which will involve lots of hiding.”

“Well, maybe we could hide together? I doubt that Robyn’s admittance to the hospital will stay secret for long. Plus, today was nice. We should hang out again.”

“We should, it really was refreshing. And, uh, if you do need a place to hide tomorrow, my spot is on the second floor of the atrium in the small hallway behind the janitor’s closet on the right side. There’s a couch there and because nothing else is down there no one really uses it, and it can be pretty quiet. As long as you don’t tell anyone else, you’re free to use it.”

“Thanks, Sarah. Something tells me I’ll be needing that information.” The weight that had evaporated over the course of the afternoon seemed to return, his movements slowed, his limbs appeared heavier, his smile dropped, and his eyes went dark, reflecting pain and exhaustion. Sarah honestly just wanted to give him a hug. But she couldn’t. They didn’t know each other that well, and spending the afternoon with him was already a little strange, despite how nice it was. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Connor. You should go home, get some sleep. You seem... Tired.”

“I am. And, I think I’ll do just that. Thank you, Sarah, really. This afternoon was really what I needed. And I do want to do it again sometime.”

“Then we will. Bye Connor.”

[hookedonapirate]

Beyond a Reasonable Doubt

Summary: Detective Killian Jones took an indefinite leave of absence from SBPD after his brother was murdered in the Line of Duty. Bitter and broken, he resides in a cottage on the beach when his brother's former partner, David Nolan brings him a case he knows the vengeful detective won’t be able to resist. A case involving Liam's killer.  

Dr. Emma Swan makes all of her decisions like she operates on her patients—with care, competence and compassion. But when her colleague, Graham Humbert, is murdered in cold blood by the man who was freed because of a decision she made as a juror, she starts second-guessing herself. To make matters worse, her squeaky clean reputation is being questioned when she becomes a suspect for Graham’s murder.

There is one detective who believes she’s innocent, and he has a plan to protect Emma and find his brother's killer at the same time. When Killian finds himself caught between his duties to the SBPD and his need for vengeance, matters are only complicated by the feelings he develops for the woman he's supposed to protect.

He's impulsive and hot-tempered, and she's methodical and cool under pressure. Despite their differences, can they work together to bring the murderer to justice, or will the murderer get to them first?

A/N: Many thanks go to @ultraluckycatnd for her wonderful beta-ing skills and @onceuponaprincessworld as always for her encouragement and letting me bounce ideas off of her.

Rated: Explicit due to mature language, character death, violence, murder and smut. The scenes won’t be too graphic, but I’d rather overrate than underrate it.

Catch up: Pro I Ch 1

Chapter 2

Five days later...

  Her eyes sting painfully as she stares at the folded scrub cap printed with green shamrocks one last time before she places it on the metal casket that holds her colleague. She sets a red rose on top of the cap and steps back, wiping the tears from her cheeks with her hand before someone hands her a tissue.

  She turns to her head and smiles at an elderly lady who had earlier told her she’d been one of his patients. “Thank you.”

  Emma had retrieved the scrub cap when she’d gathered the strength to clean out his locker yesterday. She got it for him a few years ago as a gag gift at the hospital’s annual Christmas party. Knowing Graham's sense of humor fairly well, she had strategically chosen the one with green shamrocks because she knew he would get a kick out of it, rather than take offense. She was right, and not only did he get a good laugh, but he also claimed it as his lucky scrub cap. 

  Cleaning out his locker was one of the most difficult things she’s ever had to do, and that’s saying something since she'd performed many surgeries and occasionally has to deliver grievous news to the family of her patients. 

  Wiping her tears with the tissue, she catches a glimpse of the bootlace she’d unlaced from one of his boots and tied around her wrist. While most of the surgeons at the hospital wore clogs, he preferred boots because he said the operating room was a battlefield so he wanted to be prepared for the guts and gore that sometimes escaped during surgery. 

  Emma still can’t believe he’s gone. No more friendly sparring, no more friendly bickering about who’s the better surgeon, no more trying to mock his accent, but miserably failing. No more Graham Humbert. 

  His death was not only shocking but came way too soon. He was too young. Way too young. He was only thirty-eight. And on top of that, he was murdered in cold blood. Someone showed up to Storybrooke General, snuck past the security and drove a blade into Graham’s heart.

  The last time she saw him was the night he was murdered, when they were standing outside the bar, when he kissed her cheek. She had no idea when she said goodbye to him that night, she was saying goodbye to him for the last time.

  She returns to the hospital for her post-op patients after the funeral, relieved to replace her high heels for crocs, but unfortunately doesn’t have time to change out of her dress. She hates dressing up, and even though she wore a skirt every day in the courtroom, she couldn’t justify throwing on something casual, and instead wanted to put some effort into her attire for her friend, so she wore a dress to the funeral. 

  Emma is still reeling from his death, as is everyone who knew him. There was a large turnout at his funeral. He was well-liked and highly respected. And he was good at what he did. He wouldn't have been appointed Chief of Surgery if he weren't. After checking on her post-op patients, she briefs three others for their surgeries tomorrow morning. 

  The sky is pitch black when she finally leaves the hospital and strides across the parking lot to her car. She continuously peeks over her shoulder with an eerie feeling in the pit of her stomach. She glances over at the guard on duty, but it doesn't make her feel any more at ease considering a murder took place five days ago even though a different guard had been keeping a vigilant eye out. She’d heard he took some time off after he found Graham dead in the parking lot. The reminder of that horrible tragedy fills Emma with dread.

  After safely making it inside her car, she releases a breath she didn’t even know she’d been holding.  She has crossed this parking lot hundreds, probably thousands of times and never once has she ever looked over her shoulder… until she found out Graham was murdered in this same parking lot. 

By the time she pulls into her garage that night, she’s bone-tired after a long, emotionally draining day. She’d performed her morning rounds and two surgeries before the funeral that thankfully went smoothly. She’s so glad she didn’t have to break any bad news to anyone today because that would’ve made the funeral much more difficult to handle. In hindsight, she probably should’ve moved each surgery to a future date, but she’d already rescheduled them once before because of the ten days she served as a juror and didn’t want to further inconvenience her patients. She knew Graham would have understood.

  Emma trudges through the kitchen door from the garage, scanning the mail she’d retrieved from her mailbox before she’d pulled into her driveway. She’s ready to crawl into bed after a long, dreary day—no, after the long, dreary few weeks she’s had—but first, she needs to wind down. She could definitely use a hot cup of cocoa. So as soon as she deposits her bag and mail on the table, she makes a cup of hot cocoa, but not from the powdered stuff. 

  She boils fresh ingredients on the stove and adds some milk to the pot before removing it from the heat and adding vanilla extract. She whisks the mixture until it’s frothy and pours the beverage into a mug, but she purposely doesn’t choose her World’s Best Surgeon mug she received from Graham on her thirty-eighth birthday. It’s her favorite mug, but it’s too soon. Maybe after the shock of his death wanes, she’ll be able to use it again without breaking down into tears, but right now she just can’t. She turns the mug around so the words are facing the back of the cabinet, and she grabs a mug with kittens printed on it instead. 

  After adding cinnamon and whipped cream, she grabs her phone from her purse, sipping her delicious beverage as she checks her notifications, one being a reminder for Anna and Kristoff’s wedding. It’s next Saturday evening, which is doable, but having to dress up is just one of the many reasons why she doesn’t enjoy going to weddings. 

  Everyone’s always ragging on her about never accepting invitations to social gatherings though, especially her cousins, Anna and Elsa. Despite living with the sisters for five years, she became estranged from them after she went off to college. Now she barely sees them at all because she’s always working. She’s missed so many Thanksgivings and Christmases, it would be odd to show up to one of their family gatherings now. But they’re right. She should get out more. 

  Hard work and no play, topped with the trial and her colleague’s death has pretty much drained all the life out of her, and she could use an escape. Actually, what she could use is some time on her ranch with her horses. Her home away from home is an hour outside of Storybrooke where Kristoff owns a neighboring ranch, and he and his fiance take care of Emma's horses when she’s in Storybrooke. That’s about the only interaction she has with Anna these days—when she calls to ask about her horses and the ranch. She hasn’t even told her cousins about the trial she was a juror on.

  Emma grumbles under her breath when she listens to a voice message from Detective Nolan who’d questioned her and everyone Graham worked with attending the celebration at the bar the night he was murdered. The detective got her number from the hospital, which she is not happy about. Now he wants to meet with her to discuss Graham’s murder, even after she told him everything she knows, so it’s a complete waste of his time. And hers.

  After finding no urgent messages or calls, she goes to her living room and looks up from her phone screen. Her heart leaps out of her chest and the air leaves her lungs so quickly, the mug falls from her hands, and the ceramic breaks into pieces when it crashes to the hardwood floor. She clutches the phone to her chest after almost dropping it as well. Normally she'd be quick to clean up the mess; she’d hate the idea of leaving her floor sticky for the housekeeper to clean up and have her shoes stained from hot chocolate as the dark brown liquid pools around her feet, but she’s too focused on what's on her coffee table to peel her eyes away.

  An enormous bouquet of long-stemmed red roses in a crystal glass vase.

  “What the fuck?”

  She’s frozen in place, her face draining of color. Not only is it a very rare occurrence for her to receive roses or romantic gifts of any kind, but someone has broken into her home to give them to her. Her heart is pounding as she scans the room. Nothing else in the living room is amiss, but the thought of someone breaking into her home makes her skin crawl. 

  She stares at the fifty roses for a long time, her mind reeling with how or why someone broke into her home to deliver the flowers. It’s not her birthday, and even if it were, no one else has a key to her home, except for her housekeeper. Perhaps Johanna was here when the roses were delivered and brought them in. Yes, that’s a perfectly reasonable explanation of how the roses ended up on her coffee table. 

  Except her housekeeper would have mentioned it to her or sent a text or something so Emma would not be freaked out like she is right now. And it still doesn’t explain the reason for the roses in the first place. The roses look expensive; the vase looks expensive. Someone went all out just to gain her attention, but who? And why? She’s currently single, very single , and hasn’t had so much as a one-night stand or a dalliance in a very long time. 

  Perhaps the roses are from a grateful patient? But no one except family and a few friends know her home address. If this were five days prior, she would've suspected Graham after he'd kissed her cheek. He's one of the few people who knew her address. But he never would've broken into her home to give them to her.

  After recovering from the initial shock, she’s able to move again, willing her feet to step forward and warily make the trek around her couch to the coffee table. There’s a silk red ribbon wrapped around the top of the vase, tied into a large, perfect bow. The sight of a blank, white envelope tucked into the foliage behind the bow catches her eye. 

  Hoping there’s a reasonable explanation for the roses and possible break-in, she reaches for the envelope, and with trembling hands—hands that have worked miracles and saved lives, hands that are normally steady under intense pressure—she removes a card from the envelope and reads the fancy calligraphy used on six typed words.

  I’ve got a crush on you.

  Goosebumps cover her skin and she shivers, almost dropping the card. 

  Who the hell would be sending her flowers and an anonymous note, declaring their affection for her? 

  She calls Johanna, desperately hoping the roses were delivered and that her housekeeper is the one who brought them into her home and not some psycho who broke in.

  “Hi, Johanna, sorry to call so late,” Emma mumbles through the phone, her voice shaking slightly. She’s normally cool under pressure, but the roses and card have certainly gotten under her skin, which she’s guessing was the intention behind the gifts.

  “It’s no problem. I haven’t made it to bed yet. What can I do for you?”

  “Did I receive a delivery while you were here today?”

  “No, ma’am. Were you expecting something?”

  Fuck.

  Then who the hell broke into her house? 

  “Um… yes,” she lies, not wanting to concern her housekeeper. “I was on the lookout for a small package I ordered a couple weeks ago.”

  “Did you track the package?”

  “Yes, it's due to arrive soon.”

  “Well, if it arrives while I’m here, I’ll be sure to bring it in and leave it on the kitchen table so you’ll see it when you come home.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate that.”

  “No problem. How are you doing? The funeral was today, wasn’t it?”

  Emma closes her eyes, breathing slowly, her heart cracking at the mention of Graham’s funeral. “Yes, it was. I’m doing okay, I suppose. It was all just very shocking.”

  “I can imagine. You shouldn’t stay at home alone after losing a friend, you know? You should stay with someone, at least for a few days.”

  Emma smiles faintly at her housekeeper’s concern. “I’ll be okay. Just need some sleep is all.”

  “Make sure you eat something first. You shouldn’t go to bed on an empty stomach. But I don’t have to tell you that, you’re the doctor,” she teases.

  “You know me too well, Johanna,” Emma remarks with a small laugh.

  “I’ve known you to miss a meal or two,” Johanna points out in a motherly tone. She’s not wrong. Working as much as she does, Emma tends to forget to eat.

  “I’m actually about to make myself a grilled cheese sandwich,” she lies again. Though toasted bread and gooey cheese in the middle does sound appealing, her stomach’s all twisted in knots. She’s too freaked out to even shove anything into her mouth right now.

  “Good, I’ll let you get to it then. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Emma.”

  “Thanks, you too.”

  Emma ends the call and stares at the note again for a good five minutes. Then she searches her house for any more unwanted gifts but finds nothing. She examines her front and back door and all the windows for any signs of forcible entry, but there are none. She even checks the closets, under her bed and in her bathtub to see if whoever broke in is still there; but even after she finds no one, she still has an uneasy feeling in her gut. Whoever broke in could very well do it again. 

  She briefly wonders if she should call the police, but what would she even tell them—someone broke into my house just to give me flowers and leave a note to tell me they have a crush on me? It sounds too ridiculous, they’d probably laugh in her face. Though the gifts and the fact that this person found out where she lives are probably grounds for having a stalker, it could also be a practical joke. But the only person she can think of who would pull such an awful prank on her is… well, he’s dead. 

  She disposes of the roses in the trash, but stores the vase in the cupboard and places the card in her nightstand drawer in case she needs to present the items as evidence for having a stalker on her hands. But she's not sure how helpful the items would be considering the words were typed and the card was unsigned with no name or any other indication of whom the flowers or card came from.

  Still on edge, Emma cleans the mess she'd made. Then she takes a shower, changes into her nightgown and slips into bed. But she highly doubts she’s getting any sleep tonight.

  ~*~

  “On the night Dr. Humbert was murdered, you were at the Rabbit Hole with him, correct?” 

  “Along with several other people there that night, yes,” Emma replies in a narked tone. She came here to the police station after her morning surgeries because Detective Nolan insisted on interviewing her even though he'd already questioned her after Graham's death.

  “Have you questioned them to this extent?” her lawyer, Mr. Hopper chimes in.

  “I’ve questioned them, yes,” Detective Nolan answers without confirming exactly who he questioned and to what extent. “Did you go to the Rabbit Hole alone?” 

  Emma nods. “That’s right.” 

  “I understand there was a celebration at the bar that night. What was the reason for the celebration?” 

  “We were celebrating Graham’s promotion to chief of surgery.” 

  “And how did you feel about his promotion?” 

  “I was happy for him,” Emma replies sincerely, though it's delivered in a flat, emotionless tone due to her lack of patience and because she's not happy about the insinuations of the question. 

  “Mhmm,” Detective Nolan hums before taking a sip of his coffee. “You were also under consideration for that position, weren’t you, Dr. Swan?” 

  “I was. And I deserved to get it.” 

  Mr. Nolan's brows climb his forehead, his eyes flashing with intrigue. “More than Dr. Humbert did?” 

  “In my opinion, yes,” she replies calmly. “He deserved the position as well, but I deserved it more.”

  Mr. Hopper raises a cautionary hand to stop her from continuing. “Dr. Swan, I highly—” 

  “I’m only telling the truth,” she states, cutting him off as she crosses her arms over her chest and glares at the detective. “But I’m sure you regard being denied a job promotion as a motive for murder, don’t you Detective Nolan?” 

  He looks her dead in the eye. “I don’t believe you killed anyone, Dr. Swan.” 

  “Then why did you request this interview?” 

  “Because you failed to mention the promotion when I first questioned you.”

  “It was irrelevant.”

  “Maybe so, but it doesn't hurt to go over anything I might have missed the first time around. You also failed to tell me you left with Dr. Humbert that night. Is that true?”

  “I didn’t leave with him,” she states defensively. “He walked me to my car and then went back inside.”

  “And that was it? He only walked you to your car? Were there any words exchanged?”

  “I congratulated him and we hugged,” Emma tells him. She doesn’t deem it necessary to mention the kiss on the cheek, but in case someone had witnessed the kiss, she doesn’t want the detective to think she’s withholding any other information. “He also kissed me on the cheek and we said goodnight. Then I got in my car, watched him walk into the bar and drove away.”

  “Was there anything romantic going on between you and Dr. Humbert, casual or otherwise?”

  She shakes her head. “No, there was not. We were friends who’ve known each other since we were residents, that was it.”

  He nods, seeming to accept her answer and moves on to the next question. “Did you go home immediately after you left?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is there anyone to corroborate that?”

  “No.”

  “Did you go anywhere else that evening?”

  “No, I had to work the next morning, so I went straight to bed. And no, no one can corroborate that either.”

  The detective throws her a few more questions before bringing up the trial she served as a juror on, which infuriates her because the trial had nothing to do with Graham’s murder. 

  “Yes, I served on the jury that acquitted Mr. Gold.”

  “And were you or were you not the forewoman?”

  “I was,” she replies with a tight smile. “But you already knew that. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have asked.”

  He nods. “That’s correct. I’ve already interviewed the other eleven jurors.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I believe Dr. Humbert’s killer was hired. He wasn’t robbed, and he has no known adversaries… other than you, Dr. Swan.”

  His remark rattles her, not only because the detective is accusing her of being Graham’s adversary or because of the implications his statement carries, but because he believes someone was hired to murder Graham. 

  She explains she made a decision after exploring every facet of the case. The evidence was entirely circumstantial, the defendant could not be placed at the scene of the crime and he had an alibi. She also has to elucidate to Detective Nolan she doesn’t believe the defendant was innocent, only that she was not convinced he was guilty. And yes, she had persuaded the other eleven jurors to vote for the acquittal, but after two days of deliberation, each juror voted according to his or her own conscience.

  After everyone in the interrogation room agrees there is nothing further to ask, Emma heads back to the hospital, still reeling from what David had said about Graham’s murder being a contract kill.

  Her mind drifts to the roses and the card she’d received the night prior. She thinks about how the defendant—an accused contract killer—kept staring at her in the courtroom. It was creepy, disturbing, just as breaking into her home to leave roses and a note that says, I’ve got a crush on you was creepy and disturbing.

  Could Neal Gold be the one who broke in and left the roses and card? 

  The thought makes Emma physically ill. 

  Once Emma returns to the hospital, she trades in her red blazer for a white lab coat and checks on her post-op patients. Tired of wearing skirts and dresses, she put on her red, two-piece suit of amour for her interview that morning.

  She's called on to perform three emergency procedures, which include treating an intestinal obstruction, a strangulated hernia and a perforated ulcer. Immediately following each procedure, she speaks with the patient’s loved ones to report on the condition of the patient and to explain the procedure she’d done. She makes notations in the charts of her post-op patients.

  When she’s done, she returns the charts to Tamara, the nurse on duty. “Please page me if any of these patients take a downward turn.”

  “Certainly, Dr. Swan,” she says with a smile. “So, has the board made you Chief yet?”

  The question takes Emma off guard. The last thing on her mind is a promotion. “Um… no, but even if they offered me the position, I couldn’t possibly take it. It would just feel wrong to benefit from Dr. Humbert’s death.”

  Tamara nods. “That’s very noble of you. But even so, I hope you get it, Dr. Swan. You deserve it.”

  Emma is stunned by Tamara’s words. She had no idea the nurse had thought so highly of her. “Thank you,” she says with a tired smile. “Have a good night.”

  “You too.”

  Emma turns around and heads for the elevator. As she leaves the building, the buzz from her phone breaks through the ominous silence of the night. She grabs the device from her purse, seeing it’s from a restricted number. Reluctantly she answers the phone, bringing it to her ear with furrowed brows. “Hello?”

  There’s silence on the other end as Emma makes her way across the parking lot, but then she can hear someone breathing heavily into the phone.

  “Hi, Emma.”

  She halts in her tracks, wild-eyed at the whispered voice on the other line. “Who is this?”

  “Oh, come now, Ems, don't you recognize my voice?” he says, as though they’re best friends. “We spent almost two weeks in the same room together.”

  Emma sucks in a sharp breath and frantically searches the parking lot for any signs of him, heart pounding in her ear. Spotting her car several feet ahead, she bolts for it while trying not to draw too much attention from the guard. When she gets in her car and locks the doors, she manages a faint whisper. “Gold?” 

  He chuckles. “So, you do remember me? I knew you would.”

  Of course she does. She’d recognized his voice immediately but was desperately hoping it wasn’t true. The way his dark eyes connected with hers in court made her skin crawl. How could anyone forget him? 

  “And baby doll, please, call me Neal.” 

  Emma cringes and her stomach turns. “How did you get my number?”

  “Let’s just say I have connections. Did you like the roses?”

  Her heart skips several beats, then restarts, pounding double-time. Now that she knows the roses were from him, she wants to pretend she doesn't know what he's talking about, but since he had placed them inside her house, there’s no way she hadn’t seen them. “How the hell did you get into my house?”

  Gold laughs, this time more loudly, more sinister-like. “Please, Ems, getting into your house was child’s play to me.”

  “And why’s that?” she challenges, even knowing he won’t take the bait. He’s incredibly clever and resourceful, otherwise he couldn’t have escaped prosecution for all his misdeeds, including the most recent murder he’d been tried for. 

  “I thought you’d like red roses, baby doll, since you wore red lipstick every day of the trial,” he comments, completely evading her question. “I like your red suit by the way, the color compliments your complexion.”

  Emma clenches her jaw, and her fingers grip around the steering wheel so tightly, her knuckles turn white. She scans the parking lot from her car. Not only did he break into her house but he's following her too? What the actual fuck. “Stop calling me baby doll. Or Ems. In fact, stop calling me at all. I’m hanging up now, Mr. Gold.”

  “Wait, please don’t. I only wanted to thank you,” he says in a gentle voice, bordering on sweet, but she won’t go so far to admit that.

  “Thank me? For what?” she demands, growing agitated. No, she’s beyond agitated. Ever since this fucker showed up in her life, her world has been in complete disarray, from the trial to Graham's murder to the unwanted gifts to the scrutiny from the police department and now this.

  “I wanted to thank you for saving my life.”

  “I didn’t save your life,” Emma snaps.

  “Oh, you did, baby doll. If it weren’t for you, I’d be on death row.”

  “I did nothing. A jury of twelve made the verdict,” she clarifies. It feels like she’s had to clarify that a lot lately.

  “Maybe so, but one of your fellow jurors said you led the campaign for my acquittal. She said you argued for my side and that your arguments were inspired and… passionate,” he says as though he’s speaking to a lover. “You have no idea how badly I want to touch you… thank you properly.”

  Emma’s pretty sure she’s going to vomit all over her front seats. “In your dreams, you creep. Now fuck off.” She ends the call and throws her phone into the passenger seat like it had burned her. 

  She squirms and flails her arms as though large, disgusting rats are crawling all over her, and she gags. She wants to go home as quickly as possible so she can strip off her clothes and burn them. She feels sick, beads of sweat dotting her forehead, heart pounding erratically as she starts her car and takes a deep breath like she’s preparing for an intricate, life-threatening surgery. 

  Now she’s glad she didn’t report the break-in to the police because if they find out Neal is her secret admirer, it might raise red flags; it might be just another reason for the detectives to point a finger at her for the involvement of Graham’s murder. 

  Oh god.

  Something occurs to her, hitting her like a brick. Gold said one of the jurors told him how passionately Emma argued his side. Which means she probably told Nolan the same thing when he interviewed her.

  Even though Archie had tried to assure her the detective’s insinuations and persistence were standard police tactics, there are two questions that have been gnawing at her since the interview, other than whether or not it was Gold who broke into her house. Questions that make her skin crawl.

  Does Detective Nolan actually consider her a suspect? And does he think she hired Gold to murder Graham Humbert?

A/N: For those of you who are wondering when Killian will appear, he's introduced in the next chapter, so sit tight. I will be posting chapter 3 next week. Thanks for reading!

Take a peek at the next chapter: Chapter 3 Sneak Peek

Tagging some people who have shown interest so far. If you would like to be tagged or untagged, please let me know.

@itsfabianadocarmo​ @snowbellewells​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @nikkiemms @teamhook @xhookswenchx @nikkiemms @xsajx @julesep3026 @hookedmom @biefaless @cluttermind @yasbio2015 @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda @harshini01 @noensnaringnet @xarandomdreamx @onceuponaprincessworld @annastasiarinaldiva @royalswan @brustudyblog @officerrogers @gingerchangeling @melly326 @singersdd @mzbossyboots @unworried-corsair @iamemmaswanjones @authorarsinoe @kingofmyheart14 @nightskylover @jamif @resident-of-storybrooke @iam2307 @winterbaby89 @xhookswenchx @chinawoodfan @mormonkryptonite @ultraluckycatnd @captainswan-shipper88 @killianswanjones @bethdacattfm @andiirivera

[nicka-nell]

I'm Kiyoomi Sakusa and I'm a germaphobe - Chapter 10: I am sorry

Words: 1.356

Warning: grief, mention of death

Chapter 9 - I was here, but you weren’t     | Masterlist

(y/n) = your name | (l/n) = last name | (e/c) = eye colour | (h/c) = hair colour

Kiyoomi is upset that (y/n) hasn’t been home and that she hasn’t contacted him yet. It’s 11:00 in the morning... Since he has no desire to speculate why she suddenly gives no sign of life, he decides to go to the clinic and possibly meet her outside in the park. If she’s not there, he wants to forget all this and not know about (y/n).

Meanwhile, he knows the way to Ileos clinic well. When he arrives in the park and sees the outline of a small petite woman sitting on the bench, he is sure that it is (y/n). For a moment he stops, breathes deeply and stomps with quick steps in her direction.

He stops next to her, but doesn’t look at her. “Why weren’t you there?" His voice is chilly. (y/n) is completely absorbed in her thoughts and does not realize that Kiyoomi is standing next to her.

Annoyed that she doesn’t answer him, he raises his voice. “Hey (y/n)... Why weren’t you there yesterday? Are you gonna ignore me all of a sudden?" The anger is clearly heard in his voice and now (y/n) is also aware that someone is standing next to her.

When she looks up, Kiyoomis’s eyes grow. She looks terrible. Her eyes are red, they are swollen and dark circles draw her face. Sleep deprivation but also pain can be seen in her eyes. All of a sudden all his anger is gone, and he sits down next to (y/n) without comment. Kiyoomi’s gaze does not leave her sad eyes. “Do you want to talk?" Now he asks with a calm voice, and for a moment she ponders how she can tell him about her exhausting night. But then try to cover up her thoughts with a smile. After all, Kiyoomi certainly has no interest in hearing it. “I don't know what. Everything is fine." A fake laughter draws her face. “You can tell the nonsense to others. If I ask you if you want to talk, then say yes or no, but don’t pretend you’re okay with yourself looking so horrible." His voice is as cold as winter.

Thanks for the compliment, (y/n) thinks and sighs. “I’m sorry... I had to go to the clinic. Last night... two buses got into each other. In total, there were six dead. Among them... a young woman I had operated on." Her eyes are getting warm, and she notices her tears struggling her way out.

“Death should be part of your job or not? That’s normal, so why does it bother you?" Skeptically, he looks down at her and notices her glassy eyes. He doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t like seeing her so sad.

“Yeah, it’s kind of part of it... But, she was my first patient who died. She was so young, had a husband who loves her, and a baby..." she sobs. “There will always be a first time, (y/n).", he tries to stay as objective as possible, as he doesn’t really know what else to say except facts.

Now (y/n) is the one who lets her hands interlock and starts playing with her fingertips. It’s not that she feels uncomfortable in Kiyoomis’s presence. No, on the contrary. She would like to tell him everything, tell him what she is depressed about, but why should it concern him? After all, she is a stranger to him. “Speak” brings her the cool voice of Kiyoomi out of her mind.

She still looks at him with red eyes. "As if you really care? I don’t need pity Kiyoomi." She replies to him in an equally cool tone, but notices how his facial features darken. Angry, he looks at her. “I’m not saying you should talk if I don’t care anyway, so..." She has understood his words clearly and looks into the sky thoughtfully. It’s dark, gray, like it’s gonna start raining any minute. The beautiful blue is not to be seen, because the clouds cover every bright sun ray, which tries to fight through the clouds.

She breathes deeply before she starts talking. “Do you know why I became a surgeon Kiyoomi?" She’s not waiting for him to give her an answer. "My parents died in a car accident when I was thirteen years old. The doctors arrived too late and could not do anything for them. I was so sad... I did not want other children or, rather, other people to have to live through this grief, and I set myself the goal of becoming a doctor. And in an accident so similar to my parents... I have completely failed... with a young family... who are now mourning for their mother or wife. I have completely failed..."

Like little shiny diamonds, more and more tears flow over (y/n)’s cheeks as she still looks lost in thought into the sky. Completely overwhelmed with this situation, Kiyoomi just looks at her. He’s ashamed that he was mad at her... That he was so rude to her and that he made her say it all. He didn't want to force her to tell him all that. “That... I'm sorry, (y/n)...” is the only thing that comes out of his mouth.

Sadly she looks away from the sky and to Kiyoomi, who looks at her with an unknown expression on his face. “I have failed..." she sobs again and cries bitterly as she leans against Kiyoomi’s breast.

Her body trembles at his, she radiates so much heat now that she is leaning against him. And even though he knows that she is strange to him, that she was in a hospital full of bacteria not long ago, he doesn’t mind that her body touches his. On the contrary. An unusual feeling spreads in him. His stomach feels strange, his face is warm and his heart beats as fast as after a volleyball game.

When (y/n) realizes what she is doing, that she has leaned on Kiyoomi, she separates herself from him and looks at him with her eyes wide open. “Oh God Kiyoomi! I’m so sorry...I forgot that you don’t like to-" She doesn’t manage to finish her sentence, because Kiyoomi has already pulled her back to him. “It's alright.” he whispers to her and holds her in his arms.

Confused by his reaction, (y/n) briefly remains petrified in the position Kiyoomi has brought her. But after only a few seconds, her body relaxes, and she leans her head against his chest. His heart beats fast, but his heartbeat calms her. It calms her to hear a beating, living heart.

For a long time, the two remain like that, neither let themselves be impressed by the confused looks of the surrounding people, nor by the strong wind. But little by little, more and more raindrops fall on them.

“We should go, otherwise we’ll both get sick." says Kiyoomi softly, releasing his grip from (y/n) so she can straighten up. “We can go to my place. It’s only a few minutes to my place, and when the rain has subsided, I’ll take you home." he continues.

Nodding, (y/n) stands up and takes a quick look at the hospital. Kaede should still be inside, hopefully he’s okay. “Are you coming? Or do you want to get sick?" Again, Kiyoomis’s voice causes her to startle and look in his direction.

Together they walk silently next to each other. The beautiful summer scent of wet asphalt spreads in (y/n)’s nose. How often had she played with her brother outside in the rain and how often had her parents scolded the two. They'd catch a cold. For a short moment she must laugh, as Kiyoomi had done the same a few minutes ago.

They stop in front of his house and enter one after the other.

Chapter 11 - A Bug

Taglist: @kara-grayson04​ @suna-allie​ @pleasemelafook-outta-ere​

[aperrywilliams]

A Normal Conversation Ch18 (Spencer Reid x Maxine Brenner)

(Not my gif!)

Masterlist

Ch01 Ch02 Ch03 Ch04 Ch05 Ch06 Ch07 Ch08 Ch09 Ch10 Ch11 Ch12 Ch13 Ch14 Ch15 Ch16 Ch17 Ch18

———————

Summary: Max realizes that something is wrong with Spencer after a case. When she called him discovers through Garcia he is injured in the hospital. As she waits for some news, fears and doubts arise in Max about her feelings for Spencer and about his truly feelings for her.

Word Count: 3566.

Rating: Teen and Up Audience. Some angst.

Warnings: References to death.

A/N: This is the S15x10 ‘journey’, but how it should have been… according to me, of course.

——————–

Chapter 18: Fears and Doubts

Max had never moved so fast to a place. At the Intensive Care admissions desk, she immediately asked for Spencer Reid. The chief nurse took her data and pointed to the end of a hall where Spencer's room was. Still trying to catch her breath she stopped at the door of the room where she saw Penelope who immediately noticed her presence.

"Max, honey. You came quickly…” Garcia pointed out. Max couldn't help but lay her eyes on Spencer's unconscious body. His face was pale, his hair was messy. Connected to machines that monitored his vital signs.

"Penelope... what happened to Spencer?...". Max could feel a lump in her throat that barely allowed her to speak, as she moved to the side of the bed so that she could get a closer look of him.

“I don't know many details either, but JJ told me yesterday while trying to capture an unsub, there was an explosion and Reid knocked his head. He didn’t lose consciousness or present any visible injuries, only some acoustic trauma. In the afternoon they returned to DC and each one went home. It was only this morning when Spencer didn't show up for work that we began to suspect that something might have happened to him. With JJ we went to his apartment and found him passed out on the floor…”. Garcia spoke almost breathing, trying to relate what happened to Max.

"Oh God... how long was he like this...". Max shuddered thinking that it could have been a long time and no one had noticed.

"We don't know, but the doctors say that a concussion on his head is causing internal bleeding and that is what they are trying to control...". Garcia had watery eyes and was affected by the situation. Max tried to process what happened.

"And the rest of the team...?" Max asked.

"They are trying to catch the bastard who do this...". Max closed her eyes squeezing them and couldn't help the tears that started to come out. “Max dear… Reid is strong. He's going to get out of this, I'm sure he will. We just have to wait…”. Garcia pointed out, trying to reassure Max.

“I should have called him last night. Maybe I should have gone to see him at the apartment. I knew that he was stressed and he was not sleeping well… I should have assumed…”. Penelope interrupted her.

“It's not your fault Max. Nobody except the bastard who produced the explosion. And the team will take care of it. I'm pretty sure".

Max took Spencer's hand and started stroking it as her eyes searched desperately for some reaction. It was hard not to remember one of her last nightmares, where she precisely dreamed Spencer was injured in a chase. Max felt something stuck in her chest, as if her fears were gathering one by one, wanting to surface. A mixture of guilt, terror, and anxiety washed over her. If she spoke to him with her mind, could he hear her? Could he know that he was waging a battle between the here and the other side right now?

"Maeve... what are you doing here?" Spencer asked. His eyes fell on the figure who was sitting on his couch with her back to him.

“You called me Spencer. You are at a crossroads. I came to help you,” she replied smiling. He walked over and knelt in front of her, taking her hands.

"Sorry. I'm so sorry. I couldn't do anything to save you... ” he lamented.

“You did what you could do. There is no more to say about that. You've gotten along well Spencer...” Maeve said trying to encourage him.

"I don’t know. I miss you. I love you". Reid was quick to reply.

"I do too. But it’s your decision what you will do now,” she declared.

"Can I decide?". Spencer was confused. If he wasn't dead, could he come back?

"Of course you can. This is the moment. Do you want to come with me?" Maeve offered.

"Can I do that?" he asked with a frown.

"Sure you can. Do you want to do it?" She got up and started walking, he didn't let go of her hand and walked with her.

Garcia was typing on the laptop on her lap. Max was sitting in one of the chairs in the room. From time to time nurses came to check on Spencer's condition, but no one said anything about his health state. When Max or Penelope asked, the nurses indicated that they should wait for the doctor so that she could inform them.

"Has anything been heard from the fugitive?" Max asked Garcia trying to think of something else. Her hands on her knees, tapping them with her fingers in a nervous gesture.

“I’m trying to locate him. I think we already have a good lead… but son of a bitch has already escaped twice!" Penelope complained.

Time passed and with no further news from the doctor or the fugitive, Max got up from her chair and looked at Spencer for any reaction again. At one point she went out into the hall to talk to Michelle on the phone and briefly tell her what had happened. Michelle offered to go with her to the hospital, but Max refused. She knew that sooner or later the entire BAU would be there, regardless of what happened. She wanted to stay strong and with someone from her family there it would be hard not to break down.

Max returned to the room where Penelope was typing frantically. She sat back in her chair to wait. The sound of Penelope’s keyboard, the sound of machines that monitored Spencer's vital signs, the ambient noise of people pacing outside the room began to have a hypnotic effect on her. Her eyes felt heavy and tired, so she allowed herself to close them for a moment. The noises were heard farther and farther. Without realizing it, she had fallen asleep.

Spencer was walking with Maeve through the cemetery. In the distance she notices a woman who has been looking at them for a while.

"Who is she?" she asked Spencer.

"Who…? I don't know”. Reid replied when noticing the woman looking at them from afar.

“She clearly knows you. She hasn't stopped staring at you the whole time...”. Maeve points out. Spencer looks confused.

"I've met a lot of people in my life..." he says with a shrug.

"But I doubt that everyone looks at you that way... at least the way she does...". Maeve says with a smile.

"How?" Spencer questions. He feels that there is something about this woman that is familiar to him, but he does not know what it is.

"With love...". Spencer looks at Maeve in surprise, then turns his gaze to the woman in the distance.

"I don't think she knows what love is... she looks young," Spencer muses.

“How can you be sure of that? You are young too...” Maeve refutes.

“Yes, I’m sure. I love you…” says Reid squeezing Maeve's hand.

"Spencer, honey ... you loved me" she corrects.

"I can still love you..." he offers almost without hesitation.

"Why?... unless you want to come with me"

"Can I do that?". Reid questions. Inadvertently, he cannot stop looking at the woman who is watching them from afar. Every time her face is more familiar to him.

"Of course you can..." assures Maeve.

"Do you want me to go with you...?" Spencer asks.

“This is not about what I want. I already made my decision. It's about what you want now,” Maeve replies, releasing Spencer's hand and staring at him.

"There is no difference between being there or here... what could make me want to go back?" Reid lets out a sigh.

“The world is a place worth living. More in your case. Why wouldn't you want to go back? Aren't there things you love?... tell me Spencer, what things do you love?..."

Max was in a dream. She saw herself walking in a park. At least that's what she thought it was. There were trees that moved with the wind. The same breeze that ruffled her hair when she walked. She felt that she was walking aimlessly, but with a purpose. It was strange. She didn't see anyone around her.

She kept walking and noticed that the place she where wasn’t a park, it was a cemetery. Max wondered why she was there. The memory of her mother was the first thing that came to her mind. Looking at one of the graves, she realized that her mother's name was precisely written on it. Tears began to pool in her eyes, struggling to want to get out. It had been so long, but still the wound bled from time to time.

"I'm so sorry..." Max muttered.

"Don’t be sorry. We've talked about this before Max,” said a woman who was standing behind Max and also looking at the grave.

"Mom?..." Max asked, turning and meeting the lit eyes of her mother who was looking at her tenderly. "What are you doing here?" Max asked.

“I should ask that to you. You shouldn't be here… this is my place, not yours” she noted.

"I don’t know. I must be dreaming, right?" Max mumbled.

“But of all the places you could be in your dream, you are here. Does it have to do with that handsome young man over there talking to that girl?"

"Who?...". Max looked straight behind some trees and saw a man and a woman holding hands in conversation. She was sure she knew him. Yes, of course she knew him. "It's Spencer..." Max whispered.

"Is good looking. Didn't you have a boyfriend whose name was that?" asked Max's mother.

"Yes it's him. I think…". Max tried to recognize the woman was with him. But looking over the faces of the people she knew from his life, she couldn't find the answer.

"You came for him, right?"

"I think so... but don't think he want to come back..." Max thought when she saw that Spencer wasn't even looking in her direction.

“You haven't talked to him. Maybe you can persuade him..."

"And what do I say?" A bitter smile crossed Max's face.

"The truth. That you fell in love with him. Why to lie?"

"I don't want to be disappointed again mom..."

"Max. You are not one to give up. Nonetheless. Although things are against you. It’s not in your spirit. You are stubborn like your father. Besides ... I've seen you both. It's been a long time since I saw you laugh like that, my little girl..."

"I miss you mom..."

"I know. I miss you too. But that is not what matters now. You have a task to accomplish. And you must do it soon, there is not much time…”. Max looked back in Spencer's direction and noticed he was looking at her curiously.

Penelope glanced from her laptop and saw that Max was asleep in the most uncomfortable position she could find. Being close to the door, a draft of air hit her back. Garcia took a blanket that was at the end of Spencer's bed and covered Max's back, who shifted a bit when she felt some weight on her body, but it was not enough to wake her from her dream. Garcia left the room for a coffee.

"Spencer... is that you?" Max asked.

"I think. Do I know you?". Spencer asked once he was in front of Max. He thought he knew this woman, but he wasn't sure.

"Yes. At least I thought so..." said Max with a sigh.

"What are you doing here?" he asked curiously.

"I was thinking of persuading you to come back with me..." she replied shyly.

"Come back?... I don't know if I want to come back. I could stay here with the love of my life... ”. Max felt a lump in her throat when she heard those words.

"It’s true. You could. It's your decision after all,” she stated with a nod.

Why do I have to decide now? It wasn't even my decision to be here in the first place...". Spencer complained.

“Because now you can do that. How many times have you not been able to decide on the things that happen in your life?... you are lucky. Now you have options"

"If you are here you could decide too..." Spencer pondered.

“I… I made my decision. And my decision was to come find you. But I can't force you to come back to me…”. Max replied in a soft voice that could have broken at any moment.

"Why do you want me to come back to you?"

"Because… I love you. It’s simple to say that here. In another place I wouldn't even dare to say it...” Max stuttered with a bitter smile.

"And do I love you?"

"I don’t know. Only you can know that. Although I believe your heart already belongs to someone else... and I won’t interfere with that"

"But... I love you... Max." Her name seemed so familiar to him… it was so easy for him to say.

"You love her Spencer... and it could be that you don't really love me... we've had really amazing time together... but I don't know if that really means love..."

"But you are sure about love me, how then?..."

"It's what I feel. Every hug from you. Every kiss from you. Every gesture from you has done nothing more than make me fall in love with you. You are a wonderful person Spencer. It’s impossible not to fall in love with you. But if you don't feel the same, it's okay. If your heart belongs to someone else, that's fine."

"Would you let me go...?"

"I don't want to... but if it's your choice, I'll respect it." Max pointed with a broken voice. Tears began to fall down her cheeks.

"Please don’t cry...". Spencer tried to get closer but when he approached, Max walked away.

"It’s okay. Don't worry about me. Think about what you want, what you need. If you decide to return... I'll be waiting for you"

"What will you do if I don't come back?"

"I don’t know. I would like to think I could rebuild my life, but I don't know if I will. You haven't been able to redo yours either..."

Spencer turned to look at Maeve, she was smiling at him from afar. When he turned back to look at Max, she was gone.

Max woke up with a start after Penelope made several attempts by squeezing her shoulder.

"Hey. It's me,” Garcia said when she noticed Max's agitation when she woke up.

"Something happened?". She looked over to the bed where Spencer was. He was still in the same state he was before she fell asleep. She turned her eyes to Penelope and realized there was another woman behind her. Someone elder, in visible confusion.

"Spencer's mom is here..." Garcia indicated.

"Where is my son Penelope? ... who is she?" Diana asked looking at Max.

"Diana... she is...". Garcia was about to introduce Max when she interrupted her.

"... Another co-worker of Spencer" hastened to reply Max getting up from the chair. Garcia looked at her confused. "I'm new to the team, that's why he surely doesn't know me."

"Oh. I understand. Do you know where my son is now?” Diana asked. Penelope pointed to the bed.

"Diana, he's there, but he's not awake ..." Garcia muttered.

“He is not my son. Spencer wouldn't be sleeping now... ". Diana's face was suspicious when she saw a man on the bed whom she didn’t recognize as Spencer. When she managed to get closer, even cautiously, she stopped to observe the features of who they said was her son. Soon a realization hit her and she began to cry.

"No, Spencer... honey...". The discredit became pain in Diana. Garcia tried to comfort her by gently squeezing her shoulders. Max felt dizzy and suffocated. The dream she just had and suddenly seeing Spencer's mom was too much in a very short time. She thought the wisest thing to do was to leave the room.

"Penelope, I'll leave you alone for a while... I'll go to the cafeteria." Without waiting for a response from Garcia, Max took his purse and left.

Why had she lied to Diana? Why hadn't she told her who she was? Max thought it unwise to overwhelm her with more information. Also, did she know that Spencer had a girlfriend? Perhaps he had never mentioned her existence to her mom. Those doubts were reinforced by recalling the conversation she had with Spencer in the dream. Maybe he would never love her, and she wouldn't be someone important in his life either. In his complicated life.

Who was that woman anyway? An old love? Spencer had never specifically mentioned a past relationship. But it must be important. If that had him on the edge of this world with the other, it must be important. Max's hope was that if she wasn't able to bring him back, maybe her mom would. Spencer adores his mother.

Sitting in the cafeteria of the hospital Max wondered if what she had dreamed was real or a projection of her own fears. The truth was the doubts that hovered in her head did nothing more than confirm her feeling of insignificance. Who was she to Spencer finally? If she thought she knew him, the evidence showed her that she was wrong.

Until then things were going well between them. They were getting to know each other more and more, learning what they enjoyed, what they didn't. The things that scared them, what they longed for. Max knew Spencer's life hadn't been easy. There were many things he had to face. But clearly she only knew part of it. Was it a matter of time or would Spencer really keep things just for himself? It wasn't a bad thing either, Max thought. Each person has the right to have their private world, regardless of whether you are in a relationship or not. But now she doubted. Was she willing to respect that in Spencer?

But now her thoughts had to be focused on one goal: Spencer must to wake up. Then she would deal with her fears and make a decision. If the best thing was to end the relationship, Max would do it. She didn't want to feel herself as an stone in Reid's shoe. For now, it only remained to put their hopes in bringing him back, if not with her, at least to this world again.

Confused to notice that Max had disappeared, Spencer looked at Maeve again.

"Where did Max go?" Reid asked.

"Where she belongs. She can't be here, she doesn't belong to here yet”. Maeve replied.

“But she was… she came looking for me. Why?" Spencer inquired.

“Because you are worth the effort. And she knows it. She didn't mind being here knowing she shouldn't have. She did it for you. It's curious. Few people really do that…”. Maeve pointed out with a thoughtful expression.

"I would have done it for you..." Reid rushed to say.

"I know. That means something, doesn't it?"

"She..."

“She loves you… and you are falling in love with her too. I think being together has done you both good...”

"But I want to go with you..." Spencer countered.

"No Spencer. You do not want that. You would like me to be on the other side, but you know it's not possible. If you come with me there is no going back and there are so many things that you still have to live. But I insist, it is your decision"

"I will miss you..."

“Me too. But we'll both be fine. I assure. Now go... they are waiting for you”. Maeve gave him a kiss on the forehead and giving him one last smile, she turned around and started walking away from him.

Still confused, Reid put his hands in his pockets and watched Maeve walk away. All the things she said made him wonder what to do. He could choose. But he was so overwhelmed that it was difficult for him to make a decision. There were so many things he would have liked to share with Maeve. His entire life, possibly. But things were different now. Time had passed. He had got on with his life. At least that's what he believed. Had he really gotten over it?

He thought about that woman who came looking for him. Max. Why did she feel so familiar? Why would anyone bother to wait for him? He thought about his friends, he thought about his mother. Things weren't perfect in the life he has, but it was where he belonged. It was where all those little things were that made him Spencer Reid, no more, no less.

So with this thought in mind Spencer started walking in the opposite direction that Maeve had gone moments before. Perhaps their paths would cross again, but not for now.

"Mom?...". Spencer's barely audible voice made Diana and Penelope react.

"Honey, yes. Here I am,” Diana replied.

"I am alive?"

"Well I think so, Spencer..." Diana replied with a smile on her lips. "Quite alive, to tell the truth."

———————

[btswishes]

I will adopt you.

Monsta X (Shownu) hybrid au

Part1 / Part2 / Part3 / Part4 / Part5 / Part6 / Part7 / Part8 /…

A/N: I am going strong with this one, hope author block doesn’t hit me like the meteorite hit the dinosaurs......Anyways hope you like it and sorry for any mistakes made. Enjoy :)

Word count:   1940

Warnings: I mean ,just normal 21 century teen cussing.

                                       ——————————————–

  The door shut as silently as it opened. The howling snow storm was making the small shadows dance all over the living room. Snuggled in your covers you were resting like a child with no worry in sight. Relaxed and calm, you felt safe, nothing could touch you.

  Cuddled in, with each breath there followed a step. One after the other a new big shadow engulfed the small snowflakes outside the apartment. It was thin and hunched like an old willow tree. It’s long hands grabbed onto the door frame of the bedroom. It’s heavy breath was loud and unnerving. 

“Hey there little thing....” his breath was mixed in with the words, giving them a tint of madness and a disgusting desire of possession “You did me good awhile ago. “ he kept staring and staring ”Fast one aren’t ya.Those legs gotta stop doing that, runni-” agch!”

“Those eyes should stop doing that.” a deep voice followed the sudden hand that grabbed a hold of the man’s eyes. With the fingers of both his hands he tried to pry away from the grip, to see again. The arm holding him in place above the ground, pulled him closer to the owner “You should be careful next time when you turn those disgusting things in her direction, not to mention looking.”

“W-who for fucks sake are you?! She doesn’t have a boyfriend and lives alone.” the man’s legs were swinging from side to side, his elbows flapping around still trying to remove the iron clasp from his head. But the more he tried the tighter it got. One could almost hear his skull giving in to the pressure of both sides of his head.

“Oh so you are a stalker now.How did you get in?” 

“I have no obligation to tell you.”

“We will see about that.” with just a few steps your fluffy and cute Nunu closed the door to your bedroom and opened the closest window. With a swing of his arm the man was floating mid air, his body completely hanging outside the apartment building. 

“I know the law! I know my rights!You aren’t allowed to do this!”

“Oh really.” he moved one of his fingers letting the scumbag take a good look at how far the ground was. His eyes widened, body trembling as his legs swung trying to cling to something for safety “Your law doesn’t involve me, the rules I follow give me full power of your measly life. That woman inside is mine and here you are walking in on my territory.” the wind covered his face but the golden light looked like a jack-o-lantern flashing in the distance of a storm. 

“What are you?!” his throat tearing apart as the words escaped

“How about you tell me how you got in and I will answer your question.”  The big frame and hand, the eye-color and pure strength felt inhuman

“I-I” he was stumbling over his words “I made-e a spare k-key.”

“How many times have you been in here?” 

“Only a few I swear! I haven’t done anything-g to her!!!” the creep was scratching at Nunu’s strong arm, but there was no traces of anything onto his skin 

“If you had, I would have cut that arm of yours and thrown it to the dogs.”

“Who the fuck are you!?”

“Me? Well, it was a fair exchange of information.” the light of his eyes illuminated the disgusting man’s face. As he slowly removed one finger after the other, the height became even more clear to the victim-to-be “I am your end.” there was a moment where everything froze in time. The moon gave one last light, illuminating the big sharp teeth, the golden color now engraved into the almost squished brain of the man. He couldn’t take his eyes off his killer as his body kept going down and down, until *THUD*...it had nowhere else to go.

  Soon after the window was closed again and sounds of the storm once more ruled over the dark night. With a small amount of power the double key to your apartment was crushed to fine specks of nothingness.

  The hours rolled one after the other and the sun soon pushed passed the moon and shined over the land beneath itself. Twelve came and went, so did one pm and then 2, 3 when you finally felt the need to getup. Slowly your body rose from the comfort of the covers and your eyes fluttered open like small butterflies. You stretched a bit and jumped out of bed. 

  With a happy jump in your step ,you made your way towards the kitchen. 

“Breakfast, breakfast.” singing the word over and over again, you flipped a few pancakes and placed them on a huge plate “Now it’s time for Nunu, Nunu.” his name also turned into a morning song, as you cooked up some veggies and meat real quick. 

  Everything was done and plated, when you sat down and stabbed pretty aggressively the delicious looking pancake that you couldn’t just wait and devour.

“Nunu!” you yelled out “Breakfast!” 

“I heard the first time.” a big hand grabbed a hold of your wrist and pulled the fork back behind your ear. The sudden motion scared you and you fell of the chair looking directly at a man, standing tall and pretty naked.

“Omg Omg Omg Omg Omg Omg Omg! It’s a naked man in my house, naked man in my house!” looking to the side, you covered with one hand your face as you kept repeating over and over again the same words.

“Last night you didn’t seem to care much if I had clothes on.” his comment brought you back in seconds to what happened the night before all this.Memories flooded your now rested self and you began slowly to understand....it wasn’t a dream. The creep and also your-

“Nunu!” jumping up you pointed at him, but looked away again noticing once more how naked he actually was “Wait!” grabbing the cover off the couch, you threw it at him “Put that on.”

 After some time you found yourself walking side to side in front of the now covered Nunu and the naked couch his body was resting on.

“So my dog, that I adopted 2 days ago turned into a man, a damn big one. How tall are you?” he shrugged and you continued “Not to mention saved me from that dude that creeps everyone out.....I sat on your lap!!!” a sudden blush rushed onto your face, which you tried to chase away by talking even more and even faster “The vet never told me that during full moons my pet turns human.” there was a small pause “Are you a werewolf?Am I allowed to say that? Is it racist for like ummm... ”

“No, I am a hybrid, but in the past your kind categorized mine as werewolves. I go by both, not that picky.” 

“Wow.” collapsing on the floor you were trying to get a grip on yourself “Nunu...I mean....I can’t call a grown man Nunu that is strange! What is your name?”

“Born Son Hyunwoo, but everyone just called me Shownu. For short i guess.” you kept nodding as he spoke “Look, I can leave if y-” his words were cut off when you suddenly stood up and cupped his cheeks with a slight slapping sound echoing 

“NO!...I mean don’t. I remember very well what I said last night and I meant every word.” pulling back you flashed him the same smile “ You are a part of my family now, my Nunu-ach.” the name got stuck on your throat “I guess I should call you Shownu in this form. More fitting I guess. “ clapping your hands you eyed him up and down “Speaking of fitting we gotta get you some clothes.” 

  Your dad left some of his, last time he visited since your mom filled the luggage up with stuff she bought for her friends as souvenirs. They were somewhat ok on him, but super funny looking so you tried your best to sneak a gigantic man during the most busiest time of the day through the back alleys. You pushed Shownu in the first store that caught your eye and left him in the changing rooms, just in case someone saw how bad he was dressed. Three piles of clothes later, you had some things that he liked and looked amazing on him. 

 The moment you stepped out of the store, you felt like such a release of stress, no more sneaking around for the day. He was quite big and looking up at him was enough for you to realize he wasn’t human. Tall and muscular build and that dreamy face of his. Catching yourself in thirsty thoughts made you slap your cheeks, stunning the man in his step. 

  You were almost home, when a sudden idea popped into your head. “Wait here I will right back.” and you ran off somewhere. Shownu waited and waited, but began getting worried about you, so he followed your scent just to find you talking with a lady.

“Y/N?” he asked and the woman giggled upon seeing him

“Your boyfriend maybe?”

“Ah no.” the woman slapped your shoulder 

“Aw don’t be shy sweetie, I was young once too.Oh wow.” she began squeezing Shownu’s arms “What a strong young man, you got a good one.” with a wink she said her goodbyes and left. The boy looked at you with a lonely puppy look in his eyes. 

“Were you worried?” his face got serious again, but he nodded once making you suddenly feel a warm feeling. Taking your time, both of you started walking towards the building again. “By the way!”  his attention was all on you “That lady is my neighbor from the 2nd floor. Do you know what she told me?”Shownu shook his head “So apparently one of the guards found that creep from last night next to the bins behind the building. He apparently fell off some floor. If it weren’t for the pile of snow under him, he would have been dead. He was apparently talking all kinds of nonsense and they took him to a mental hospital. The police are investigating it all now.”

“Oh really? That is strange.” his tone was the same, no emotion in it.

“Yeah.Wanna buy some food since you now look 5 times the pup I had yesterday?” upon hearing the word food Shownu jumped up and you could see his eyes glowing.You could have sworn there was a tail going left and right behind him. His dog manners were obvious even in this form. He followed you into the store and walked right next to you looking at all the things inside. His eyes glistened each time you put something in the basket. After awhile you started to have trouble carrying it, when Shownu reached out and grabbed it.

“Don’t worry about this and just buy things, I will keep this close for you.” 

  You were walking from one section to the other, looking at prices, ingredients. Shopping never felt so easy. Paying fast Shownu picked up the bags and started walking next to you. You two were having small talk, but you soon noticed that his eyes weren’t moving from the small bag you hand around your wrist. The expression he was making, made you giggle to yourself, it was just so cute. 

“I will show you when we get home.” with a jump in your step you informed the interested boy. 

[hymn2000]

Don’t Shoot Me I’m Only The Piano Player - MCU AU Fanfic - C18

(Previously Ideal Confusion)

Story summary: Giving into the constant pressure from the press, Tony decides to put a rest to the rumours that Peter is his biological son - once and for all.

Previous Chapter(s): 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Part of my Frostiron and Spiderson series.

Warnings/themes: family, family stuff, family conflict, adoption, DNA test(s), pressure, peer pressure, social issues, mentions of alcoholism, mental health problems, potentially some minor medical inaccuracies, corporal punishment, hurt/comfort

You can also find me on AO3

Chapter 18 - So Much To Prove

-

Peter stirred uncomfortably, whimpering as he woke up. It was dark - too dark. He’d fallen asleep so quickly that he hadn’t even turned the night light on. He whimpered again, tears pricking his eyes, and became aware of someone’s arms round him.

“Shh, it’s ok, I’ve got you”

Peter relaxed, somewhere between asleep and awake, pressing a hand against whoever was holding him, reassuring himself. He shifted slightly and slowly drifted back to sleep.

-

“Did I have a nightmare last night?” Peter asked Loki at breakfast.

“Surely you should know the answer to that one?” Loki said, putting his mug down.

“Well, I don’t always remember, especially when someone’s with me like you were”

Loki paused, quirking an eyebrow. “I didn’t go to you in the night, chick”

“Oh” Peter sat back, confused. “But then who..? Um...”

“Finish your toast. You don’t want to be late for school”

“I don’t know if I’m up to it”

“You are” he nodded at the door. “Blazer’s there when you need it”

-

Peter swallowed hard, tearing his eyes away from the car window.

“Did you and daddy talk last night?” 

“That’s none of your business” Tony said abruptly. “Don’t be so nosey”

‘A definite yes’, Peter thought. He looked at Tony, trying to figure him out. He was rubbish at hiding things, but he also neglected to talk about things that were most important, so sometimes the full effect got lost. 

“What are you staring at? You’re putting me off”

Peter shrugged and looked away. They were quiet until Tony parked up in front of the school.

“Try to have a normal day today, kid” Tony said. 

“What happened yesterday wasn’t my fault”

“I never said it was. Just don’t have a repeat, alright?”

Peter pouted at him. 

“Just be good, kid. Now go: you’re gonna be late”

“You’ve changed your tune”

Tony smacked his thigh, hard.

“OW! Dad!”

“Don’t be so cheeky. Now sling your hook”

Peter didn’t need to be asked twice. He grabbed his bag and stepped out of the car, all but slamming the door behind him. He didn’t have high hopes for the day ahead.

-

Malaki was on everyone’s minds and lips. There were a lot of rumours, and some of them were pretty worrying. Unfortunately, some of them were true, but, having not heard anything more from Malaki since the day before, Peter wasn’t sure about all of them. He didn’t really want to think about it.

Not that he had much choice in the matter. 

There were too many reminders. Almost everyone in the form had seen what had happened, and there were a lot of pale faces in the discussions. Peter turned round when the bell rang, looking at the conspicuously clean patch on the carpet, at Malaki’s empty seat - and Nigel’s too.

Flo rested a hand on Peter’s to get his attention.

“I think he’s gone and told the truth” she whispered. “I’m not entirely sure, though”

The door opened, making her jump, but it was just Ms Hathersage.

“Settle down, now!” she barked. “Well, well, well! It’s nice to see you all in one piece! Just about. How’s your head, Stark?”

Peter didn’t respond. He’d almost forgotten about his own injury. He probably would have done altogether if Loki hadn’t changed the dressing when he’d woken up. It seemed so insignificant, especially with Malaki in hospital.

-

Mr James’ practice room seemed like a refuge from the heavy stresses and talks of the morning.

“How’s your head?”

Peter shrugged.

“Yeah, I thought as much. Any news on your friend?”

Peter threw his bag down and plonked himself down at the piano, ignoring him. Mr James understood.

“Well, I’ve got some marking to do, so I’m taking this corner” he said, slinging his briefcase onto the little table. “It’s easier to focus in here. Less people knocking on the door, you see”

Peter nodded slightly, not really listening. He flexed his hands and tapped a few keys, not sure what to play. His head was all over the place: Malaki, Loki’s house search, leaving school, being Tony Stark’s biological son... He hadn’t even got his head around the first problem, let alone those that had followed. He didn’t have a clue what he was supposed to do about any of them. He didn’t really know how he felt about any of them either.

Well, he was worried about Malaki. He didn’t know what was going to happen to him. What if it was serious and he had long-lasting problems? He didn’t even know how he was now. He wasn’t sure it was his place to text and try to find out. Malaki’s phone could be dead, for a start, or he might be indisposed. There was nothing he could do, anyway.

Leaving school was just a fact of life now. He hadn’t had much time to, but if he really thought about it, he wasn’t really sure he wanted to leave anymore. He didn’t have any control over that either.

Loki’s house search was more confusing. Peter still wasn’t sure why Loki had lied and said he’d been asked to go back. Sure, they kept in touch, but why not tell Tony the truth? As much as he’d enjoyed his sabbatical, Peter wasn’t convinced he’d actually leave. But, Loki was nothing if not unpredictable. Besides, he’d heard his outburst about his time in hospital. Maybe the stress of that memory and not being able to talk about it was getting too much for him. If it was, maybe Scotland really did beckon. 

Some, everything was piling up, but those bloody DNA test results still felt like the biggest problem. Peter hadn’t had the television or radio on, or even checked his phone properly since the press release, but he could imagine all too well what was going off. He was still surprised no one had cornered him at the hospital about it.  It wasn’t the press that bothered him, though. Not really. What got to him, was the massive uncertainty that came with learning that the past you thought you knew was nothing but a fabrication. Plus, there was the whole issue of Tony seeming furious at the results one minute, and acting like they’d never had them the next. AND, on top of that, Tony and Loki were at odds, and Tony seemed to have started smacking again. Peter hoped what happened just before Loki rang Marco was an isolated incident, but he couldn’t be sure. His leg had throbbed for a good ten minutes after he’d been struck in the car that morning. He didn’t like the feeling that Tony might be taking his frustrations out on him. Sure, Loki had mentioned he was seeing someone to work through his problems, but he couldn’t be sure. Tony wasn’t great at the whole opening up thing.

-

“That was energetic”

Peter looked round at Mr James.

“Energetic. But sad” Mr James said. “It was good. You’ve always been good at the classics”

Peter turned back to the piano. He’d just played from the list on the wall, half-hearted but heavy-handed. Still, even then, he felt better for it.

“Did you do any playing last night?”

Peter shook his head.

“Can’t say I’m surprised. Tired?”

Peter shrugged.

“You’re quiet today” Mr James came over and stood beside him. “What’s burning in there today? We can have a little chat, if you like?”

Peter froze, reassured himself that it was only his parents who always used ‘chat’ to mean he was in trouble, and breathed out. He shook his head slightly.

“Well, I’m in the corner if you change your mind” Mr James said, squeezing his shoulder and returning to his table.

Peter was quiet a moment longer, before resting his hands on the keys and starting to play. Calm and light at first, and then a few heavy notes mixed in. He got into the rhythm, and soon started humming along under his breath. He felt safe in the funny little room, piano at his mercy, Mr James quiet in the corner.

He grew immersed in the music, his humming become more pronounced, a type of mumble of almost-words. And...

“-Caesar's had your troubles, widows had to cry. While mercenaries in cloisters si--ng; And the king must diiiiieee”

God, it felt so good to sing without worrying what people might think.

“Some men are better slaying sailors. Take my word and go.. But tell the ostler that his name was; the very first they chose”

Somehow, he was thinking of other things as he played. Mainly about school, and about what people might think if they overheard this. Oddly... well, he didn’t care. ‘Let them hear’ he thought, hammering out the final notes. He paused a moment, catching his breath, still on the same train of thought.

;Well’ he thought. ‘If anyone’s listening, I’ll give them something to listen to’

“You can never know what it's like.. Your blood, like winter, freezes just like ice.. And there's a cold and lonely light that shines from you.. You will wind up like the wreck you hide, behind that mask you use”

He played it heavy, a little slower, much more Rocketman than Too Low For Zero. Mr James looked up from his papers, watching closely. 

“And did you think this fool could never win? Well look at me, I'm-a coming back again.. Got a taste of love, in a simple way, and if you need to know while I'm still standin’ you just fade a-way..”

Mr James stood up, carefully, slowly, not wanting to interrupt. Not yet.

“Don't you know? I'm still standing better than I ever did! Lookin’ like a true survivor -  feelin’ like a little kid. I'm still standin’ after all this time.. Picking up the pieces of my life, without you on my mind..”

Mr James put a hand on Peter’s shoulder, and he stopped abruptly. He swallowed, hands still on the keys, and slowly looked up at him, biting the inside of his lip.

“How do you feel about breaking the rules?”

-

Breaking the rules though it was, it felt right with it being a teachers idea. However, that didn’t help at the end of the day. At first, he still felt brilliant - incredible, energised, on cloud nine - but then the butterflies were replaced with moths, fluttering replaced with thudding, and he felt sick with nerves.

It wasn’t like Tony was going to find out, and, honestly, it wasn’t as though he’d really done anything wrong - but his father was so unpredictable right now that anything seemed to be a possibility.

“Not a bad lot of work for a Wednesday afternoon” Mr James said. “See you tomorrow, Master Parker-Stark”

“Thanks, s-sir”

“No problem. Well, you’d better be going. Bye now!”

Peter went out to the carpark, praying that it would be Loki, or even Happy, waiting for him.

No such luck.

“You took your time” Tony grumbled as Peter climbed into the car.

“Mr James’ lesson ran over” Peter said, not untruthfully.

“Mm” Tony said, obviously not listening. “Your father wants to have a word when we get back”

“Oh... About Scotland?”

“What? No, don’t be ridiculous!”

“I’m not!” Peter scowled. “Well, what is it about, then?”

“You and me. And... this” he gestured between the two of them. “I think”

“What could he know that we don’t? We’ve got the results, and you don’t remember my mother”

“We’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?”

There was a short silence. 

“...Dad?

Tony sighed irritably. “What?”

“Do you regret getting us tested?”

“Just put your headphones in, kid”

“But-”

“But nothing! Put your bloody headphones in or I’ll smack you so hard you won’t be able to sit down for a week, understand?!”

He could have been bluffing - but Peter didn’t want to take that risk.

-

Loki sat Tony and Peter down at the kitchen table, much to Tony’s annoyance.

“Is this going to take long?”

“It takes as long as it takes!” Loki snapped.

There was a pause. Peter looked down at his hands. Loki sighed, and placed a brown A4 envelope down on the table.

“I don’t want you to get angry at me because of this. I didn’t really register at the time, and I’d honestly forgotten until I saw it today”

“What is it?” Tony asked.

Loki pushed the envelope towards Peter. “I think you should do this”

Peter hesitated. He didn’t like the feeling of them watching him, but he took the envelope nonetheless. It was thin, obviously not much to it. He slipped the piece of paper out of the envelope, turning it over and looking at it, reading it over. It all seemed pretty normal - aside from one thing.

“The birth certificate? I forgot you’d requested that. What’s the big deal?”

“Hand it to your father, Peter”

“Loki, I know what a birth certificate looks like. I don’t think-”

“Just read it, Tony”

Tony humoured him, taking the certificate from Peter. He glanced it over, and then stopped. His expression changed and there was silence as he set it down in the middle of the table. He pinched the bridge of his nose, looking pained.

Peter swallowed hard, not that it helped. “What does it mean?”

Loki brought the certificate close, looking at the blank space where a father’s name should be.

“It means your mother knew”

*

[abaddons-right-hand-queen]

You’re The One

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of hospitalization and injury, and of course, fluff

Prompt: “I was doing fine. Really. And then you waltzed back into my life like you never broke my heart.”

Sam Winchester was one son-of-a-bitch if you’ve ever known one. You despised the man entirely. It wasn’t like you wanted to, but you knew that you had to. It was for your own good.

Deep, deep down, you loved him. He was the kindest and most selfless man you had ever known, and he made you feel safe. The two of you started off as friends, coincidentally meeting every so often on hunts with his brother Dean, and after a while, they offered to have you stay with them at the bunker. They enjoyed your company and they needed extra hands on cases sometimes, plus you were always excited to kill a monster.

The older brother had always thought that you were a decent mix between both of them. You loved to research and read until your eyes burned and your brain was racked with new facts, but you also loved the adrenaline rush of cutting off a vampire’s head or burning a wendigo. You weren’t much of a drinker, unlike Dean, but damn it you were always down for some karaoke at the local bars. You were sweet like candy, but you came with one hell of a punch.

Dean understood why Sam fell for you.

Sam was very reluctant to let you in. It took a long while for your conversations to go from light joking and casual topics to deep and meaningful stories about your past. You never pushed him, never begged him, never bartered with him to go further into his past than what he wanted. He did the same with you.

It took a very long time for him to confess how he felt for you. Six years, to be exact. You still remember it like it was yesterday.

The clock struck three in the morning as you walked into the library. Sleep was not likely tonight it seemed, so you decided to read a bit until you got tired. You stepped through the door frame, pulling out your phone and shuffling some calming music as you looked through the stacks near the door.

You were reaching for a book on the top shelf when footsteps shuffled behind you. “Need help there?” Sam asked, making you turn around. He came up behind you, placing one hand on the small of your back while reaching to the top shelf with the other one. Your heart soared as he handed you the book.

“Thanks,” You said, smiling softly at him. He grabbed a book near the one you took, coming toward the table where you were at.

The song changed as you adjusted your hoodie. ‘You’re the One’ by Greta Van Fleet played in the background of your very own romance novel, setting just the right scene. You held your hand out to Sam, looking up at him coyly through your lashes.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked as he gripped your hand. You pulled him toward the more open area of the library, giving you plenty of room.

“Dance with me,” You offered. He chuckled and then nodded his head, pulling you into him gently. You rested your head on his chest and placed one hand in his while the other snaked around his torso. He reciprocated and together you swayed to the tune.

Babe, ain’t no denying

That I’ve got you in my head

The two of you remained in a blissful silence until the song was over. “(Y/N), I think I’m in love with you,” Sam said. “And that scares me to death.”

You pulled away from him, eyes widened in shock. You took a pause to truly register what he had just said. A smile formed on your face. “Sam, I know that I’m in love with you,” You whispered.

Sam smiled widely, placing a hand on the back of your neck to pull you into him. He pressed his lips to yours ever so softly. It was almost as if he was scared to break you if he kissed you too hard.

You and Sam were together for a year before he broke you. Dean had caught wind of a demon hunt in Nebraska and the three of you hunted down the entire group of ten. Unfortunately, three of them ganged up on you and beat you nearly to death. You spent three weeks in the hospital due to your injuries.

Sam’s couldn’t handle having you in harm’s way. Death surrounded him like oxygen, and he couldn’t stand the thought of you dying because of him. So, he ended things with you.

“Sam, you wouldn’t,” You gasped in disbelief. The thought of Sam ending your relationship killed you on the inside--hadn’t things been going so wonderfully?

“(Y/N), I have to. It’s for the best,” He sighed. He left you alone in the hospital room to process what he had just done to you, but you knew that it was going to take more than a few minutes to understand it.

Dean came into the room twenty minutes later with a few bottles of water for you so you didn’t have to drink the hospital water. He furrowed his eyebrows the moment he witnessed your puffy tear-filled eyes and the lack of Sam.

“What happened?” Dean asked you as he set the bottles of water next to your bed. He sat next to you and waited for your response. You quickly lunged forward and hugged him tightly. Dean was your best friend; he was always there for you, even for things that you couldn’t tell Sam. He understood you so well, and you understood him, too. You silently cried, trying your best not to appear weak. Although, it was too late for that. He had already seen you crying--you hated it when others saw you crying.

“Sam broke up with me,” You muttered as you pulled out of the hug. You used the hospital blanket to wipe the tears away from your face.

Dean’s eyes widened in shock. “But I thought things were going well?” He asked.

“I thought so, too. He just said that he had to.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either.”

When you were released from the hospital, Sam avoided you like the plague. You waited until he was in the library to move all of your things out of his room and back into your old one, and then you waited until the boys were both in bed before you loaded most of your things into your car and left the bunker. You didn’t leave a note or say goodbye. You didn’t pass go or collect $200. Leaving was the only choice--it was abundantly clear that you weren’t wanted there.

Seven months passed since then. You decided to take a break from hunting entirely, which was quite odd for you. It was true that you had been hunting for a very long time, but you missed the normal lifestyle you had in high school before your parents went missing. Your dad had been killed by a skinwalker, who then killed your mother. You were lucky that you got your two sisters out of the house before they had been killed. The Winchesters came into town for the case and interviewed you, and you learned about the reality of the supernatural.

After thinking long and hard, you decided to become a hunter. Jody trained you, and you lived with her for a bit until you were comfortable doing solo hunts. She thought of you to be selfless because you decided to hunt to better the world. It wasn’t just revenge for you--Sam and Dean killed the monster that took your parents away, now you were going to kill the monsters that were destroying the lives of many.

When you left Sam and Dean, you went to live with your last living sister--the youngest sister was tracked down and killed after you joined Sam and Dean. She was more than happy to let you in.

You were impressed with the warding and weapons in her house. She learned about protection from the supernatural after you started hunting, and she implemented a lot of it after your sister died. She couldn’t risk her life, as she had a loving husband that she didn’t want to leave behind.

Her husband knew of the supernatural. He knew that you were a hunter and that you put your life on the line hundreds of times to save people. You remembered how he asked you and the brothers questions after he found out.

“So vampires are real?” He asked. You nodded your heads with Sam and Dean. “What do they look like?”

“Well they sure as hell don’t sparkle,” You said sarcastically.

“They’re nasty. Rows of teeth, gorey, pale; the whole nine yards,” Dean added on.

“What else is out there?” He asked.

“There’s more than we can even list,” Sam said. “Vampires, werewolves, wendigos, demons, angels, gods, goddesses, witches, rougarous, banshees, reapers, ghosts, skinwalkers,” He listed. You shuddered at the mere thought of a skinwalker.

“That’s insane,” Your sister’s husband chuckled.

You took up a job at the bar down the street from your sister’s apartment. She lived in the city and preferred the hustle and bustle of the people. Grand Rapids, Michigan wasn’t the biggest city in the country--it wasn’t New York or Chicago by any means--but it was far bigger than the small town you all were raised in.

It was a slower night at the bar, and you were just closing up. All of the patrons were gone, making the bar feel lonely. The warm lights gently lit the wooden furnishings in the building, as well as a couple of extra lights illuminating the liquor behind the bar. On nights like tonight, you worked the bar while two other girls took the tables. They went home four hours ago along with the cooks, so it was just you manning the place.

You were wiping down the seats in front of the bar when the bell on the door indicated someone coming in. “Sorry doll, we’re closed,” You called over your shoulder, not seeing who came in.

“Even for me?” A voice called out. You knew that voice. You spent every night for five months dreaming of that voice. Then you spent the last two months despising that voice.

You sighed as you turned to face Sam Winchester, placing your hand on the counter. “Especially for you.” You briskly walked behind the counter to rinse out the washcloth, hoping that Sam would leave, but he didn’t. He leaned on the edge of the bar.

“How have you been?” He asked you.

“Do you even care?” You quipped. You dropped the cloth in the sink and gripped the edges, taking a deep breath. You thought that you had this handled. It seemed as though Sam was just a part of your past, but seeing him was something that you were not planning on. Especially this soon. Hearing his voice was reminding you just how much you missed him.

“(Y/N), you know that I care,” Sam said sincerely.

You laughed drily and turned to face him, placing two hands on the bar top. “Samuel Winchester, you left me. You said that we weren’t working out. That it was for the best.” You ran a hand through your hair. “It’s the same bullshit that I’ve heard from every other person I’ve been with.”

“Do you think that you weren’t enough?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Of course I did!” You exclaimed. “You don’t spend a year with a guy who wanted you for six years before that and then very suddenly breaks it off without questioning yourself.” Your voice got lower as you prepared your next sentence. “You don’t spend that long with someone you love, have the relationship end, and not think that you’re to blame. It didn't matter what you said. I believed that I wasn’t enough for you anymore.”

“(Y/N), you were more than enough,” Sam said, reaching for your arm.

“Why are you here, Sam?” You asked as you pulled away from his reach.

“Hey, you never answered my question,” Sam pointed out as he stood up straight. You scoffed and went to get the washcloth from the sink, wringing it out as you came around the bar.

“I was doing fine,” You answered. When you looked at the doubtful look on Sam’s face, you continued. “Really. And then you waltzed back into my life like you never broke my heart.” Sam’s face fell. “Now, why are you here?”

“Dean and I want you back with us,” He stated. You scoffed and went to wipe down a table. “It’s true. We miss you. And I don’t expect you to ever fully forgive me, but I want to try and work out our problems.”

“What problems, Sam?” you asked in frustration. “I was under the impression that we were doing well together, and then you broke up with me and that was the end of it.”

“I broke up with you because I thought that it would be safer for you. You almost died on that demon hunt in Nebraska and I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you, so I detached from you in hopes that--”

“That if I died you wouldn’t be affected,” You finished, sighing. He hums a yes. “Sam, attachment is perfectly okay. It’s human.”

“We’ve already lost so many people. Kevin, Charlie, dad. Hell, we’ve even lost each other a couple of times. I thought that if I broke up with you, you couldn’t be added to that list. And in every serious relationship I’ve ever had, she dies.”

As he spoke, he slowly walked closer to you, and you to him. The music that was loudly playing rock overhead changed, and ‘You’re the One’ by the Greta Van Fleet came on. It was an ironic thing, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say that God had planned it.

“Sam, a person dies twice,” You say as you abandon the washcloth on the table. “Once when the physical body dies, and another time when someone forgets about that person. And I’d reckon that with you and Dean, I would never die.”

You were within arm’s reach of him. Either one of you could make a move. He held his hand out, smiling at you softly. “(Y/N), will you dance with me?”

Rolling your eyes, you replied, “Of course I will, you goofball.”

See, where we’ve been

Won’t you hold my hand and stay awhile

You’re the one I want

You’re the one I need

You’re the one I want

So come on back to me

You didn’t think that you could ever forget what had happened between the two of you. You loved him; you’d always loved him, and you’d never stop loving him. These memories were part of your history. Your personal book. Your testament in the Winchester Bible. Sam felt the same way toward you, as well. He may have had a different way of showing it, but you knew that he meant well and that he loved you.

Sam Winchester was the one.

[jjco128]

The different time. Ch.1

It has been ten years since Rosa died and Michael took the blame for it. After the incident, Michael decided to go to college, because he realized that he cannot protect Isobel and Max if he kept staying in Roswell. He needed to learn more about the space and the universe. He needed to find where they came from and how to go there. He still remembered vividly the day he left for UNM, Isobel was crying from the day before. Max hugged him politely but didn’t look at him into the eyes. Michael threw himself into the study. He only went to a few parties and didn’t join any clubs. All he cared about is to get what he needed to know and find a way to go back home. He has taken full course loads and extra courses during summers. Four years later, Michael graduated with PhDs in astrophysics and mechanical engineering. He was supposed to go back to Roswell after graduation. However, when the time he got his diplomas, he didn’t want to go back. He was scared of going back to the place where his dream and loves were broken. So, when he found an opening at NASA in DC, he took the chance to escape as far as possible. Then, four years turned into ten. Finally, after a decade, Michael caught the wind that the Air Force is going to collaborate with NASA in New Mexico. He felt that it is his chance.

It took Michael three days to drive from DC to New Mexico. Michael took his time to let all the excitement, worries and fears to set in. When he sees the “Welcome to Roswell” board on the side of the highway with alien singles on it, Michael can’t help but smiled. It looked likes nothing has changed. Nither Iz nor Max know he is coming back. Michael decided not to tell them, so Iz would not throw him a party.

Michael heads to Max’s place first once he arrives Roswell. While approaching Max’s house, he can feel the warmth in the chest. He rings the bills and waits. He hears footsteps and then the door opens.

Max stands beside the door, staring at Michael for minutes. The silence is long enough to make Michael uncomfortable, so Michale breaks the ice.

“Hi.” He said.

“Hi… Michael?” Max replies with uncertainty in his tone and is still processing the situation.

Max’s reaction amuses Michael, and he rolls his eyes “Of course it’s me, who else looks like this?” Michael points himself.

Max laughs and steps forward to give Michael a tight hug “It has been a long time. Why didn’t you say you are coming back?”

It’s a relieve to see that Max happens to see him. They have grown apart since that night.

“It’s a bad time? I can come back later.” Michael says

“No, no. Come on in. Iz is in here too.” Max steps aside, letting Michael in.

Isobel is lying on the couch with a bottle of beer in her one hand and her phone in the other.

“What makes you that long. I thought you are adopted by aliens,” she says while still typing something on her phone.

“Good to know you still have your humor, Iz.”

Isobel immediately lit her head, surprised. “Michael? what are you doing here? When you came back? Why didn’t you tell me? And you have not called me for two weeks already.”

All Micahel can give her is a big goofy smile. He is not a fan of being questioned by anyone, but Isobel is an exception. Luckily, Max saves Michael in time.

“Why don’t you set down. Do you want a beer?” he offers.

“That would be great, thanks. ” Michael says.

Max nods slightly and moves toward to kitchen, and Michael sets down beside Isobel. Isobel stares at Michael with an expression that is mixed of amusement.

Michael gives her a side eye “Stop staring at me like that. I came back from Washington, not from death.”

“Well, you didn’t come back for the last Christmas and Thanksgiving. I thought you were not coming back for the reunion either”

“What reunion?” Michael is confused.

“The high school reunion. It’s next week. I sent you the invitation weeks ago.”

“I must miss it.” Michael murmured. He has been busy packing stuff and taking care of his works in the DC office.

“Wait, if you are not here for the reunion, why are you here then? No offense. I am glad you are here.” Isobel says and Max is coming back with beers.

“I decided to come back…. Hm….. permanently.” Michael lays back on the couch and makes himself comfortable.

Both Isobel and Max’s eyes widen. “You mean you are moving back? ” Max asks.

“Yep. that is the plan. Hope I am still welcome here.”

“Of course! It has been forever. I thought you were never going to back here. ” Isobel says excitedly while hugging Michael.

Max hands Michael his beer and sets down across them. “Glad to hear, Michael, we miss you.” he smiles fondly. “So, what is your plan?”

Michael takes a sip of his beer and says “I transfer to the NASA center here and….. Also, Air Force hires me as their consultant. ”

Both Isobel and Max look at Michael with worries. “Air Force. Are you sure about it, Michael?”

“They have no reason to suspect. I am just a consultant.” Michale assures them.

“Anyway, we are proud of you, Michael,” Max says and Isobel nods with a smile.

Michael looks at them fondly. Their approval means a lot to him. He has been worrying that they would be mad at him for leaving for a decade.

“I can’t forgive you for not calling ahead, Michael.” Isobel points a finger at Michael “and your hairs are significantly worse.”

They all laugh.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The second day morning, Michael wakes on the couch. He rubs his eyes and looks around. He still in Max’s house. Three of them chatted until midnight with beers and finally, they were all too tired and too drunk to drive anywhere. So they all slept in Max’s place. Michael stands up, but he is still disorientated. He balances himself on the side of the couch while Max comes out from the bathroom.

“Hey. you look like shit” Michael smirk.

“So do you. Take my shower if you like. I need to get ready to work.” Max says.

“ Thanks for the hospitality. I will make myself out after I get clean up.”

“You are more than welcome to stay, you know.”

“Thanks, I will better find my own place since I am going to stay for the long term,” Michael says and walks toward the bathroom.

Michael feels like to check out Faster Ranch first. He bought an airstream a few years back and Mr. Faster didn’t mind him to camp at his ranch. Whenever he came back, he would spend a couple of nights. He always feels safe when he is there, feeling close to his home. When Michael approaches the Faster Ranch, he realizes there are movements around his trailer, which is unusual. Expect some tourists, locals don’t come here during the days because it is hot and nothing else to see. When he drives closer, he sees a couple of men in military uniforms.

Michael jumps out of the car and stops Mr. Ranch just finish talking to them. Mr. Ranch also sees Michael coming.

“Michael. Just about time. I was going to call you.”

“What’s going on here?”

“Air Force is acquiring the land, you got to move the trailer” he pats Michael’s arm and walks away.

Michael looks back to his trailer, there is someone standing right in front of the door trying to peek into his trailer from the window that is covered with paper. Michael does not like people to touch his stuff. Where he was used to working, there was even a rule “Don’t touch Dr. Gurien’s stuff without permission.” Although it’s not a good idea to piss off your future colleges, Michael does not really care anyway. He walks toward the man and grabs his arm.

“Hey! That is private property…..”

His voice dies down the second the guy turns around. Alex, Alex Mance, in the air force uniform, without his eyeliner and nose ring. He looks different, but still the same. Michael subconsciously tightens his grip. He stares at Alex’s face, feeling like the time has stopped. He does not move an inch, not until Alex’s eyes fall upon his hand. He quickly releases and tries to hide his shaky hand behind.

“Alex.” Michael doesn’t know why he still calls him the first name, probably thought that he doesn’t need to call his name ever again unless it is in his dream. He continues,

“Finally a real Manes’ man, your father must be proud.” He eases out the sentence as his eyes linger to the man behind Alex, his father.

“Three-quarters of one” Alex bends down to knot on his right leg, making the sound that definitely does not belong to human fresh.

Michael feels his stomach drops as the sound echos in his head. He feels sick and the emotion is hitting so hard against his physical body that Michael can feel the pain. But he has to push it down, knowing if he let anything fly around with his power in front of Air Force will be the end of everything.

“Gurien.” Alex let out a heavy breath “what are you doing here in this trailer. Definitely doesn’t look legal.”

“It’s my vacation home. A lot of weed, casual sexes and, oh, plan to overthrow the government ?” he says with a quick smirk.

“I thought you left Roswell,” Alex says quietly

“I came back yesterday. And I will be your guys' new consultant.”

“Really? ” Alex asks with disbelief.

“Yep. Dr.Gurien, head engineer of NASA. I am looking forward to working with you. Airman Manse.”

Alex straightens his posture and shakes Michael’s hand “Glad to meet you, Doctor.”

They do not break eye contact and stare at each other until someone approach Alex from the back.

“Captain Manse, we finish up here.”

“Ok, thanks,” Alex replies and looks back to Michael.

“I better get going. I will come back to move this thing later.” Michael starts backing up and gives Alex the last longing look before he turns around.

“Gurien. I will see you around? ” Alex calls out behind Michael.

Michael turns his head around and smiles. Although he really wants to kiss Alex right now. He decides not to do it because Jesse Manse is staring at them intensely. He would probably try to arrest Michael for AFD.

“So here.Captain.” Then he reluctantly walks away.

[maple-writes]

(This chapter 100% did not go as planned, but I’m just going to roll with it here)

It must have been almost three in the morning when I’d hiked all the way up to our spot by the lake. Technically the trails were closed after dusk, but in the years that I’d been coming here to meet my sister I’d never seen it enforced. As soon as I reached the flat boulder on the lake shore that we’d made our meeting spot I took a seat, shouldered off my backpack and waited. I leaned back against my hands, the rock cool under my skin, and yawned. Of all the nights for Ember to want to talk…

           Two glowing red eyes peered out from the shadows stretching along the tree line. A moment later, Ember emerged and started across the loose dirt. She held her head high, sharp horns curving out from her forehead and catching the moon’s sliver light. I smiled as she hopped silently beside me on the rock and crossed her legs.

           She returned the grin, sharp, dog-like teeth flashing in the low light. “You came.”

           “Of course I did.” I stifled another yawn. “What’s up?”

           Quiet filled the night air. Ember sighed, a pulsing, too-strong energy washing from her in waves. With half of my soul alongside her own, some of that energy had to escape out into the universe, too much for any one body to harness.

           She shrugged, and I couldn’t help but notice how slender he shoulders had become. “Nothing. Nothing’s ever up with me.” She laughed, deep and rasping. “You know that.” She paused, leaning back and propping her clawed hands against the rock surface. “I just missed you.”

           “Me too.” I paused for a moment in the still air, then reached for my backpack.“I brought a picnic.”

           I pulled the container of roasted vegetables Striker had in the fridge and a bag of pretzels I’d picked up from the gas station on the way over. Ember glanced at the container as I opened it and offered her a fork. She snorted.

           “You didn’t make this, did you?”

           I shook my head. “Of course not.”

           Ember stabbed the fork into a chunk of yam. “That’s what I thought.” She chewed quickly, swallowed and giggled. “Yeah, definitely not you. Way too edible.”

           I rolled my eyes, not thinking fast enough to come up with a witty reply. Instead, I stretched out onto my back. The rock was cool through the fabric of my hoodie. Trailing my fingers along it’s lichen-crusted surface, it’s timeless signature crept through the skin of my hand. Memories of millennia seeped from it’s cold surface, eroded by time and impossible for me to glean more than a compiled sense of security. If it being here was good enough for the rock, it was good enough for me.

           So deep in the rock’s comfort, I almost didn’t notice Ember sigh. I folded my hands across my stomach and turned my head. She didn’t look at me, staring instead across the darkened lake.

           “How is Striker?” Her words came barely louder than the lapping of still waves on the shore.

           I swallowed. Her expression had hardly changed, but sorrow ebbed from her, disappearing in the open air but not fast enough to avoid settling in my own chest.

           “He’s good.” I paused, choosing my words. We both knew what she meant. We both knew what day was coming up. “He’s still working at the hospital. They have him as an ER nurse right now, but he said they might be transferring him to intensive care but yeah…”

           Ember nodded, keeping her eyes away from mine. Slowly, I raised my knees and gently rocked them side to side. Next week it would be what, five years? I swallowed and rested my head flat against the rock surface, watching the stars twinkling bright away from the city lights. Five years… Was it really that long?

           “It feels like yesterday,” Ember whispered.

           So she was thinking the same thing… My legs stilled. I’d always told Striker I didn’t remember much. Told him it was a blur. But I could still see the flames licking up the living room walls, tearing up the curtains, burning hot and too close to my face, still feel the smoke ripping hot at my throat and coating my lungs.

           I shook my head and turned back to Ember. “He doesn’t hate you, you know.”

           Ember grimaced. “He should.”

           “No, Ember…” I propped myself up on an elbow and softened my voice. “He wants you to come home.” I paused, the wind drifting softly through my hair and rustling the needles of the towering pines around us. “He asks about you all the time.”

           But Ember only shook her head. She lowered her eyes to her feet, and I could start to feel her own grief landing heavy between my ribs.

           I inched as close as I could, her sorrow threatening to choke. “You have to look at it from his side, Ember. He hasn’t seen you since the fire.”

           “Why would he want to?” She clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes. “If it weren’t for me mom would still be here.”

           I swallowed. “Yeah, but you’re still his sister.” I thought about reaching out, placing my hand over her shoulder, but the sharp look in her eye made me think twice. “We’re the only family he has left. Maybe this year, you could—“

           Ember snapped her head my way, sharp teeth bared in the low light and eyes burning. “I can’t!” She loomed over me, flame in her hair hot enough to make my skin prickle. “You don’t get it Ash!”

           “But Striker, he—”

           She lunged forward, pinning me against the rock with one clawed hand digging into my shoulder. My heart leapt to my throat as she growled down at me, blocking out the stars and the half moon in the sky. Energy surged in wild waves from her, drowning me in more than I could process.

           “It doesn’t matter what Striker says!” She pressed her face nearer and nearer to mine.

           My heart raced in my ears. I stared, paralyzed as her claws dug deeper and deeper into the fabric of my hoodie. Her other hand slammed against the rock beside my ear. I flinched, but she didn’t seem to notice.

           “Why would he want to see me ever again? If it weren’t for me,” She snarled. “Everything would be fine. Everything would be great.”

           Her claws broke my skin and her anger flooded through me like a dropped match to gasoline. It scalded hot through my veins, burning the muscle and tearing so hard at my chest it felt like it would tear. Rip open right at the sternum and leave nothing but a raw wound.

           Ember’s breath came hot against the sweat on my face. “You’re lucky. So lucky.”

           Her lips curled, and I stared, wide eyed at the razor points of her teeth. The red in her iris glowed like fire and flame shed from her hair, her back, her arms. She pressed closer, her mouth inches from my ear. Fear coiled in my chest, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t.

           “Sometimes I ask myself how it’s fair that you get to live a good life and I’m stuck with the curse of our father.” She narrowed her eyes. “Sometimes I ask myself if I would feel any better if you were gone.”

           No. My blood chilled despite even the fire flooding in from Ember’s nails. She could kill me now and no one would know. No one would know I was gone until morning at the latest. How would anyone know to look for me this far into the forest?

           I took a shaking breath. “Em…” I choked against the tears spilling hot down my cheeks. “Please.”

           Her cat eyes met mine, but she didn’t speak.

           “You,” my voice shook, almost too quiet to hear. “You’re scaring me.”

           For what felt like an eternity, neither of us made a move, neither of us wanted to break eye contact. Her image blurred behind a second wave of silent tears, and the grip on my shoulder released.

           Ember drew back, practically throwing herself off the rock and onto the loose stones of the lake shore. I gasped, sucking in as much of the cool air as my lungs would hold. My skin crawled and my body shook, and no matter how hard I tried to stop it, tears ran hot and wet down my face. I couldn’t make myself move, staring straight up at the night sky, but I could hear Ember’s pacing footsteps in the rocks beside the lake.

           Slowly, I let my eyes close. Hopefully it would only take a few moments for my body to be mine again, to respond only to my own half of my soul, to stop trying to rip its way out of my body into Ember’s. I forced deep breath after deep breath into aching lungs. Did Ember feel the same pull? Or was it just too much for her to feel something some small in comparison?

           Exhaustion tugged sickly soft at the edges of my limbs and the corners of my mind. As much as I wanted to fight it, I couldn’t do anything but give in.

 I’m sorry, Asher.

 I woke up on the floor of the back of the car—Striker’s car—that I’d driven to the park. Sunlight streamed too bright through the windows and I cringed when it shone in my eyes. I tried to get up, but my limbs were too heavy. My arms shook even as I tried to prop myself up just a little, and I fell back to the floor. I tried to think, but my head spun and all I could do was stare at the ceiling as the sun rose higher in the sky.

           But my phone rang in my pocket. I winced at the sound and the vibration against my leg. But I knew that ringtone. It was the one I’d assigned to Striker’s calls. I eased my hand into my pocket and picked up the phone, hitting speaker and dropping it on the floor beside my head.

           “Asher?” Striker’s voice was frantic. “Asher are you there?”

           “I,” my voice was hoarse. “Yeah.”

           “Where are you? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all morning. Are you okay?”

           Too loud… I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut but managed to mumble an answer.

           “Okay,” Striker replied calmer than I would have thought. “Stay there, I’ll come to you, okay?”

           I nodded, then realised that he couldn’t see me. “Okay.”

           The beep of the phone told me he’d hung up, and I didn’t bother to move it away from where it had landed by my cheek. Sunlight rose higher through the window of the little car, and I squeezed my eyes shut against the glare.

 I jolted awake to the car door opening. Striker filled the doorway, worry written across his face. He crouched nearer and I couldn’t help but smile, weak as it was.

           “Ash,” He spoke softly. “What happened?”

           Fog slowed my thoughts as I twisted my neck to see him better. “Hi.”

           Striker sighed and reached into the back of the car. He slipped his arms under my knees and my mid-back, and gently carried me out. I cringed against the light, curling closer to his chest. His shirt was warm, even through my hoodie. He seemed to make a point of keeping his bare hands from my skin.

           “Oh my—” A familiar voice came from behind Striker. “Is he okay?”

           I opened my eyes against the light, squinting out from Striker’s grip. Kyra stood in front of us, owl-eyed and staring. Her car sat parked haphazardly beside Striker’s. Standing nearby, Cirrus watched with crossed arms.

           He rolled his eyes. “Dumbass.”

           Striker shot him a glare that made him stop in his tracks. He quickly uncrossed his arms and cast his gaze down to the gravel ground.

           “I,” my voice still came out thin, but the fog in my head was starting to clear, at least just a little. “I met Ember.”

           Striker adjusted his grip, balancing my side against his body. He scrunched is face. “She did this to you?”

           I shook my head, then paused. “Not,” did she do it? “Not on purpose. I,” I shook out my head, trying to pick a single thought. “She didn’t mean to.”

           I wasn’t sure if he’d even heard me. He just carried me around the side of his car, jerking his head towards the passenger door. Kyra scurried over and opened it for him. She watched from the side as he slid me into the seat and helped me fasten the seatbelt. Did he believe me? My head fell back against the seat back as I watched him stand up straight and say something quietly to Kyra. Should I have mentioned Ember at all? I knew he wasn’t mad at her before but… My heart fell. Did I change his mind?

           Behind me the car door closed as Cirrus took a seat in the back. He leaned forward, head poking between the two front seats.

           “Hey,” He spoke low as if trying to keep the words from Striker’s ears. “Are you okay?”

           My face scrunched as I turned. Instead of his usual mask of indifference, something like concern furrowed his eyebrows and tensed his jaw. Weird. I nodded, and some of his tension eased. He leaned back in his seat, crossing on leg over the other.

           “Fine,” he raised his chin, a gesture that came as something far more familiar. “But next time, tell me. Hell, take me with you.”

           My frown deepened. Why did he care so much all the sudden? I took a breath to ask but stopped when Striker got into the driver’s seat. He wasted no time starting the car and driving from the parking lot onto the street.

Silence filled the car, heavy and louder than anything anyone could have said. I watched Striker as he drove, face tense and grip on the wheel tight. He kept his eyes forward, almost as if refusing to look at me. I sunk into the seat and stared down at my lap, guilt eating at my gut. Why didn’t I leave a note when I left? He didn’t deserve to have to worry. He shouldn’t have to waste his day off looking after me.

           I swallowed and cautiously peered up at him. “I’m sorry.”

           Striker sighed deeply, his shoulders rising and falling like a gentle wave. “I’m not mad, Ash.” He paused. “You scared me. When I first opened the door I thought you were dead.”

           I leaned my head back against the headrest again, no longer having to squint. I guess it might have looked that way at first…

           “Just,” Striker sighed. “Be careful Ash. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

           Now it was my turn to sigh. “I know.” I shifted in my seat, but it did nothing to get rid of the guilt. “I’m sorry.”

           “I’m just glad you’re okay.” Striker pulled up to the curb outside the house with a relieved smile. “If you want to talk about it later we can, but you look awful.” He turns off the car and undoes his seatbelt. “We’ll get you set up somewhere cozy and talk when you’ve recovered.”

[greysanatomy-station19addict]

Come Back to Me: Chapter Two

She headed towards the cafeteria, but found herself heading somewhere else, almost subconsciously. She walked through the hospital like she never left. She found her way downstairs and made her way to the furnace room. When she opened the door, the memories flooded her. So many things had happened in that room. So many things were said. She stood in the center of the room and took it all in, waiting for the wind to come blow her problems away. When the wind finally came it blew her hair up and released all the emotions she had been holding in. Tears built up in her eyes and she could feel the sobs forming deep within her stomach. She stood there with her head in her hands trying, but failing to control her emotions. She turned around to find the door opening and coming face to face with Owen. She had been in Seattle for almost two days and this was the first time she had seen him. She wasn't sure if she had been avoiding him, or if he had been avoiding her, or maybe both, but seeing him made her feel even more. She was feeling things she didn't want to feel. She could tell he was startled by her presence. He wasn't expecting her to be there.

"Cristina, I, umm, I didn't know. How are you?" He just stared at her. She looked so broken. When she finally lifted her head from her hands the truth came out in her eyes.

"Oh my god, Cristina, are you ok?" She looked at him with a dumbfounded face. Clearly she wasn't ok. He should be able to tell that by looking at her.

She shook her head and before she had any time to react Owen ran over and wrapped her up in his arms. The familiar feeling of Owen's body against hers, his warmth, made her relax a little, but also made her emotions explode. She missed him. She would never admit it, but she did. He rubbed his hand up and down her back and wiped her tears from her eyes. Once he could feel her breathing steady he lightened his grip and brushed her hair from her face and looked into her eyes. He missed her so much, though he wouldn't admit it either.

"Meredith is going to be fine. She's strong. She'll pull through." He reassured that Cristina knew this, even though she didn't look convinced.

"I know she'll be fine. She woke up this morning and she couldn't talk and she couldn't hear and the only thing that would calm her down was Alex." Owen looked at her sympathetically knowing how hard that must have been for her.

"I came 8,000 miles and she didn't even need me. Alex is her person now."

"No Cristina, that's not true. Right now Alex is just familiar to her. She's hurt and scared and when she woke up and you were the only one there, she was probably very confused. She still needs you and she still loves you. You'll always be her person."

The tears were steady flow from Cristina's eyes. No matter how hard she tried, they just wouldn't stop. She tried to compose herself. If not for her, then for Owen. Owen didn't need this. He wasn't her husband anymore. Of course, she still loved him and always would, but he didn't need this. When she finally got herself together and wiped her eyes, she found Owen just staring at her.

"Cristina, what can I do? Do you need anything?" She let out a slight laugh thinking yeah, there's probably a lot you could do, but at the same time there was nothing.

"Just being here helps." Owen smiled and nodded at the request and suggested they go get some coffee. He knew Cristina had been awake for hours and coffee would help her.

The two walked side by side to the cafeteria. They made small talk as they walked, asking each other about surgeries and medicine. They were both trying to avoid asking about each other. They both had questions, but they were both afraid to ask.

When they got to the cafeteria, Cristina took in the all too familiar scene. She had so many memories here. The last time she was in Seattle she hadn't stepped foot in the hospital, so the memories were flooding her now. Owen came over and handed her a coffee and motioned towards a table where Bailey, Ben, Maggie, Richard and Amelia were sat. Cristina smiled at the group as she sat down next to Bailey. She placed her hand reassuringly on Cristina's shoulder knowing how hard this must be for her.

"How are you doing Cristina? Meredith's awake, so that must be a relief." Miranda could see that bringing up Meredith hit a sore spot for Cristina. The Cristina she knew would be all over talking about Meredith, bossing people around, making sure that Meredith had everything she needed. This was not the Cristina that she knew sat here. Miranda's eyes met with Owen's which told her to investigate the situation further.

"Cristina, can you come with me? We should go for a walk." Cristina looked at Bailey, irritated at the request, but when she looked at Owen he gave her a reassuring nod, indicating that she should go with Bailey.

The two left the cafeteria and walked the hallways of the hospital. They walked in silent for a long time before Cristina finally spoke up.

"You know Dr. Bailey, when I left here two years ago, I never imagined…I never imagined how screwed up life would get. I honestly thought all the bad stuff was over. We survived unimaginable things, and still we cannot escape disaster. It still seems like yesterday I got the call that Derek died, and now I get another call that Meredith was attacked. When will it stop? Will there ever be enough disasters?" Miranda looked at her sympathetically. Inside her own mind she was thinking the same thing. She had five interns, and those five interns and especially the three that remained have faced more disasters then anyone could imagine. Why were they so attracted to disaster?

"I wonder myself all the time why so many bad things happen. In the last twelve years we have been faced with more disasters than we can count on our two hands, but, we've also overcome more disasters then we can count on our two hands. And that is something to be proud of. Even with all the bombs, and shootings and plane crashes and car accidents, we're still stood here. We're still alive and Meredith, she's still alive. She's been through more than any of us and she's still alive, and she's going to stay alive. But she needs her people and you are her person. She needs you to be there for her. Alex has taken great care of her since you left and especially since Derek's been gone, but he can't replace you. You're her twisted sister, she needs you."

Cristina tried to control the tears that threatened to escape her eyes, but she couldn't. These were tears for Meredith, tears for herself. Tears she had been holding in for too long, which was ironic because she hadn't stopped crying in the last two days. Miranda noticed the devastation in Cristina's small figure and without warning embraced her in a hug. She knew Cristina needed it and was reassured of that when she hugged back.

"It's ok to be sad that she's fine without you. She's making it without you, but you're making it without her too. Know that it took her a long time to be ok without you. You leaving was not easy for her. But she's fine and she's going to be ok. Let's go see her." Cristina nodded at Dr. Bailey's idea and the two of them walked towards Meredith's room together

They made their way back up to the ICU just in time to see Jackson inside talking to Alex. Meredith looked to be sleeping again, which was good, she needed the rest. When Alex noticed Cristina and Bailey stood outside he motioned for them both to come in. He knew by looking at Cristina that she was upset, but he didn't push it. Not yet. They all listened to Jackson and took in what he was saying. He thought Meredith was stable enough now, so he wanted to go up and try to repair the damage to her ears and remove the wires in her mouth. All four doctors agreed that it was a good time, so they got Meredith prepped and Cristina and Alex both wheeled Meredith to the OR where Jackson and April were waiting. He assured them everything would be fine and would update them as soon as possible. Both Cristina and Alex nodded and thanked him.

The two walked back to Meredith's room in silence. Alex knew he needed to talk to Cristina, but he didn't want to upset her even more, but he thought not saying anything at all was worse.

"Cristina, are you ok? You left really quickly this morning and you never came back." Cristina studied his concerned look before thinking of how to respond.

"Alex I didn't know what to do. Meredith woke up and she couldn't talk and she couldn't hear anything and the first thing she sees is me? I mean the last time she seen me her husband had just died so like I'm kind of associated with disasters now. I only show up for the disasters. I didn't know how to comfort her and the second you walk in she calms down. She doesn't need me anymore. She has you. You're her person now." Alex could hear the pain in Cristina's voice and see the tears in her eyes. This is not what he wanted. He never wanted to take Cristina's place. He couldn't take her place. He was just trying to be there for Meredith. He was the only one left. There was five of them and he was the only one left. It was his job to look after Meredith. Cristina left him that job.

"Cristina, I didn't mean…Meredith needs you. She hasn't stopped needing you. She talks about you all the time. If something funny happens, or something bad, her first thought is always 'I wish Cristina were here.' You left her to me, to take care of her, but look what happens. Her husband died, and you came to be there for her. It was your hand she held, your shoulder she cried on and the second you left, she took off. There was nothing I could do. She was gone for almost a year and there was nothing I could do. I couldn't help her. She wouldn't let me in. But now, now that she's here, I'm doing everything in my power to keep her happy, keep her alive. Disaster follows Meredith Grey like a shadow and I'm trying my hardest to keep the sun shining so the shadow stays away." Cristina didn't even realize how hard this had been on Alex. She was being so selfish that she never even thought of his feelings. He was doing everything he could. The same thing she would be doing if she was there.

"Alex, I'm sorry. You're right, trying to keep Meredith Grey alive can be hard sometimes. It's like she has a magnetic pull towards disasters. But you being there for her means everything to her. Don't think I don't know, because I do. I may live 8,000 miles away but me and Meredith still talk. I know all about how you take care of the kids and do car pool and make waffles, all the things you swore you would never do. You've done good Alex. Evil Spawn has done good." Cristina could see the gratitude in his eyes. He didn't know that Meredith had told her all that stuff, he didn't even think it was a big deal.

This time it was Alex who pulled Cristina into a hug first. Believe it or not he actually missed Cristina. He was glad she was back. He was glad he had her to go through this with him. He needed her to be there, for both Meredith and him. They both knew Meredith still had a while in surgery and Alex had an idea that might help Cristina.

"Hey, do you want to go see the kids? Amelia dropped them off at daycare this morning, so we could go up and see them." Cristina smiled at the offer and nodded eagerly. Believe it or not, she missed the kids like crazy and had only ever seen Ellis over FaceTime, so she was happy to finally get to meet her.

The two walked up to daycare together. They walked in and Zola eyed Alex first. She ran towards him before realizing Cristina was there when she sped towards Cristina even faster.

"Aunt Cristina, what are you doing here?" The young girl was so excited to see Cristina. She wrapped her arms around her neck and squeezed her so tight.

"I missed you baby girl. I wanted to come see you. You're getting so big." Zola's eyes beamed at Cristina, she was so happy she was there. Bailey also came over to acknowledge Cristina's presence, but he wasn't as enthused as Zola. Alex had left to go to the nursery to get Ellis while Cristina reunited with the other two kids.

When he returned, Cristina's eyes were met with Ellis. She had soft blond curls, just like her mother and her blue eyes, just like her father's. She was so petite. She was perfect. FaceTime could never show just how beautiful she actually was. Cristina walked over and spoke softly to the little girl. The baby smiled when she spoke, so Cristina was confident she recognized her voice from their FaceTime calls. Alex handed Ellis to Cristina who was in awe over the baby. Ellis took to Cristina right away, cuddling right into her. Cristina took the baby and went and sat closer to where Zola and Bailey were playing. She sat down next to Alex. The two smiled at each other.

"They're pretty great kids." Alex spoke up and said.

"They're lucky to have you. It's good they have someone like you in their lives. Someone who loves them, just as much…" Cristina stopped midsentence when she realized what she was going to say.

"As much as Derek?" Alex knew exactly where she was going with her thought. She nodded at his response.

"I would do anything for these kids. They are my life. I'll never measure up to their dad, but I'll do everything in my power to make sure they're taken care of and loved." Cristina smiled at Alex. She was so proud of him. He had grown up so much.

The two of them sat in the daycare for a while before Alex's pager went off. It was Jackson, so they both needed to go. Cristina and Alex both kissed all three kids and promised they would come back later. Zola waved as she watched Alex and Cristina walk down the hall. They met Jackson just outside Meredith's room. Cristina could see through the window that she was still asleep, but felt at ease as Jackson explained that he was confident her hearing would return and that the injury to her jaw wasn't as bad as they had expected and were able to remove the wires. He expected her to make a full recovery.

Cristina and Alex both sat at Meredith's bedside for the next few hours. She still wasn't awake, but they both knew it could be a while before she woke up. Alex decided that he was going to go get the kids and take them home for the night and come back. Cristina agreed that was best and said she would stay with Meredith. Cristina assured him she would call if anything happened and that she would also rest while he was gone.

Thankfully she was able to get a bit of rest while Alex was gone. The quiet buzzing of the monitors around her were calming to her. She felt peaceful for the first time in days as she sat in the chair next to Meredith's bed. It wasn't until she heard an unfamiliar noise and felt movement that she was actually startled awake from her sleep.

"Cristina…" She could hear her name being called softly. Although the sound was quiet, to Cristina it was the most beautiful sound in the world.

[lollercakesff]

Time & Again 10

Yeah, I kinda skipped ahead because I read one of @starmaammke ‘s prompts and couldn’t not write something. So here’s part 10.

—-

Hopper was drunk. Rip roaring, three sheets to the wind, stumbling around drunk.

It was supposed to be easy. That’s what he’d told her time and again - it’ll be quick in and out. He’d promised. But it wasn’t. It never was for him.

Yesterday he’d taken El to the Doc Owens for a check-up after she’d started complaining about headaches. Owens had promised him personally that when they showed up he’d run some tests and then they’d leave, likely with a bill of clean health. But it hadn’t gone that way and it had made Hopper a liar.

They’d arrived just after eight in the morning, trying to squeeze the appointment in before lunch. They hadn’t realized that by Owens’ standards, ‘some tests’ meant an entire day which eventually stretched into a night.

He didn’t know why he didn’t predict this would happen. He thought they’d come to an agreement - that El would be released from being a science experiment after she closed the gate the last time. That she’d be forgiven her past because she’d saved them all. But she wasn’t - one step into the new laboratory space and she’d been ushered into a machine that operated in the dark and required her limbs to be strapped down.

Hopper had fought them from the start, demanding that he accompany her to every test and approve all of the procedures before they happened but somehow it still got away from him. They’d moved her from one machine to the next, her small body poked and prodded and drawn from until she didn’t bother to fight anymore. He’d sat next to her bedside that afternoon and tried to rouse her but she wouldn’t budge from the fetal position she’d coiled herself into. She was blank, a shadow of herself, and he couldn’t forgive himself for letting this happen.

“I’ve got to take her home,” Hopper demanded as he stood outside the door to El’s room. Somehow the day had dissolved into night and he refused to let her stay in their care without him.

“Chief, you know we need to find the source of these headaches. For a child like Jane - “

“She prefers El,” He interrupts Owens and crosses his arms over his chest, determined to get his way.

“For a child like El then, you need to understand that her use of her powers comes at great personal cost. The bleeding that occurs after using her powers is a sign of brain trauma and we need to ensure that she is recovering appropriately from these traumas and not creating long-lasting damage. This is serious Chief and we need to treat it seriously.” Owens shifts on his feet, his eyes darting away from Hopper and towards where El is curled on the bed.

“I get it, but I think you’re forgetting that she’s been tortured by men like you and the way this shit has happened today - without any of it being explained to her - is causing her more harm than a couple headaches. I wouldn’t have brought her in if I didn’t think it was serious, but I need your team to fucking listen or - “

“Okay. I hear you. I do. Stay the night for monitoring and then she can leave in the morning. We’ll schedule a time for any follow-up tests when we know more. Fair?” Hopper rubs his eyes as he thinks it over, the burn of the fluorescent lighting giving him his own headache.

“Fine. One night. Figure out what’s going on, Doc, or I swear to god - “

“Calm down, Pop. We’ve got this under control.” He finishes with a pat to Hopper’s arm before he turns on his heel and heads down the hall.

They’d stayed the night though sleep was hard to come by. When he did finally wake up, it was to El lashing out in her dreams beside him. Surprise had shot through him when he realized that sometime during the night she’d left the hospital bed and curled up next to him on the cot, her tiny body tucking in against his until her nightmare got the best of her. The emotions had come for his throat then and dragged him under, his hands coming to grip her arms as he tried to coax her back awake.

She refused to get back in the hospital bed alone and only agreed to leave the cot when Hopper crawled onto the stiff mattress and smoothed out the sheet next to him. They’d fallen back into a fitful sleep soothed by the lull of the machines and the sounds of the building around them.

The next morning, true to his word, Owens released El to head back to school. Hopper had offered to let her stay home and sleep off the miserable night but she’d been determined to not miss another day of class. He couldn’t say the same for himself - after dropping El off at school Hopper beelined his way to his old haunt, desperate to drown the thoughts that were raging in his mind.

The bartender had greeted him with a tentative smile, offering a coffee since it was still early and even his regulars weren’t yet sitting at the counter. Hopper asked for a double scotch and an open tab.

Now it was coming up on dinner time and he could barely stand, his body leaning heavily on the tavern’s bar as the world spun around him. He couldn’t stop thinking about Sara. About El. About the black hole that was consuming everything he had just when he thought he could be happy again.

“Chief, there’s a call for you,” the bartender calls out, the words wobbling as he tries to understand them.

“No - I’m not - no,” he grumbles and wipes the water from his glass across his face. The bartender sets the phone on the wood in front of him and hands him the handset.

“Hop? What are you doing? El is here and she’s worried,” Joyce demands through the line, her voice frustrated. Hopper closes his eyes and sighs, tears crashing over him like a wave. He must sob, must make some noise that gives him away, because the crowd around him hushes and Joyce’s voice softens. “Jim… I’m coming to get you.”

The line goes dead but Hopper keeps the handset in his grasp and pressed to his forehead until he can regain some of his composure.

“Chief, is everything, you know, okay?” The bartender asks, leaning in towards him and offering him a smoke. Hopper shakes his head and sits up tall, his face tightened up in a desperate smile.

“Everything is fine,” he announces and tries to stand up from his barstool with a flourish. Making it halfway to the door, he stumbles over his own feet and has to grab at one of the nearby tables to steady himself.

“You forgot your hat and keys, Chief. Why don’t you come sit down and wait for your ride?” The man comes around the bar and helps him into a chair, placing his hat on his head and sliding him a glass of water. Hopper takes the help, too drunk to do anything else, while he waits for Joyce to come and get him.

Practically falling through the doors, Joyce groans at the sight of him bent over the bar, his head in his arms. He’s not sure how she does it but when he comes back around his face is pressed against the window of her car, the vibrations making his stomach turn.

“Joyce, pull over,” he urges, his arm swinging at the mirror to signal her over. Squealing tires slide the car to the edge of the road where he opens the door and vomits along the side of the highway. The only thing that comes up is liquid and he’s surprised - had he not eaten all day?

When they arrive at the cabin he’s near ready to be sick again, thankful when he can roll himself out of her front seat and into the fresh air of the surrounding forest. He lays there for a moment before Joyce comes around to look down at him, sadness playing across her face.

“Come on, Hop, time to get you inside,” she grunts and pulls at his arm, steadying him as he gets to his feet. Though she’s nearly half his size, she somehow manages to get him over the threshold and into his room before he collapses on his bed, the spinning taking over him again. He lay there prone as she removes his boots, her hands making quick work at stripping him down to his boxers. “I’m going to get these in the wash. Don’t get up.” She instructs before disappearing from the room.

When she comes back she finds him curled into his pillows, blanket half strewn over his waist as he breathes heavily. Setting the bucket down beside his bed she pulls the blanket up to tuck around him before placing a glass of water and aspirin on the table. She’s almost through the bedroom door when he groans, his body shaking.

“Hop?” She whispers, concern lacing through her as she comes to crouch next to him.

“The black hole. It’s going to take her too,” he mumbles as he tries to contain the sobs that rake through him.

“Who, Hop? Nobody is going anywhere,” Joyce soothes, pressing his hair back from his face.

“El. You. It’s going to take everything and I won’t make it. I can’t do it again.” Her chest constricts as he mumbles out his fears, the pain hidden beneath his words, radiating off of him with every breath. Joyce doesn’t know how to help except to slide in behind him and wrap her arms around his torso, casts and all.

The next morning breaks through the window coverings in his room with a vengeance, the sun slicing through right into his eyes. His head throbs as though a marching band is preparing for the Rose Bowl, every sound echoing between his ears. Moving to sit up, the ground swoops dangerously before coming back to him and steadying itself. As he seizes on everything he has, he stumbles into the kitchen in his boxers and rubs his eyes trying to push the vision of Joyce in his t-shirt out of his mind.

“You’re alive,” she says quietly from the sink, his vision coming to life before him. Finding a chair, he falls into it and watches as she reaches up for a mug, the hemline of the shirt sliding up her thighs. He’s suddenly thankful for the table and all it’s non-see-through properties.

“It’s only Wednesday, right?” He checks, concerned that he’d disappeared on his bender for more than a day. It wasn’t the hangover that was making him feel bad, it was the guilt of abandoning El.

“Yes. Jonathan got the kids off school this morning, El included.” She pulls out the chair across from him and slides him a piece of toast, frowning at him until he takes a bite out of it. Her frown turns into a measured gaze as she nibbles on her own piece, watching him. “I don’t remember the last time I saw you that fucked up, Hop.”

Wanting to look away, to hide from his embarrassment, he tucks his head and chews slowly. He doesn’t want to talk or even think about it. He just wants to forget. The black hole just was - there was no explaining why it sucked in everything good in his life - just that it did.

“I talked to El last night and she said you guys were at the lab on Monday. What’s going on?” Joyce prys gently, careful so as not to push him too far. She watches as he recoils, looking anywhere but at her. “I think I deserve to know after everything we’ve been through,” she adds before pushing away her plate and leaning her forearms on the table.

He starts his sentence and stops, two, three, four times before he can get the words together. “El has been having these headaches. Boneshaker ones. So I took her to the lab to see if there was anything they could do and it was horrible. They kept her overnight and ran all these tests, I couldn’t - Joyce,” he stops, exhales, and then looks at her with tears in his eyes. “All I could see was Sara sitting in that bed. Like it was happening all over again.”

This strong man who fought so hard to keep her family together was sitting here, falling apart in front of her and she could do nothing. There was no recourse to make this better, no way to magically fix El and ensure he didn’t lose someone else he loved all over again. All she could do was go to him, to hold his aching head to her chest and try to keep it together herself as he wrapped her up in his arms.

Somewhere tucked inside all the hurt and pain emanating off of him was still the want for her, for the feel of her around him. Their shared loss mixed together and when her lips found his it was part comfort, part desire, that pulled her onto his lap with her legs straddling his.

Her fingers speared through his hair, pulling him to her until he broke away to drag his mouth along her collar. They got lost in each other, their hands running over exposed skin, the summer heat swirling around them as they pressed closer together. When his fingers slid between her legs the feel of it shocked through her, her body coming alive after so long with nothing and she ground her hips against his hand instinctively.

Hopper could feel her wetness through her underwear and it drove him forward, his fingers sliding under the thin cloth and against her folds. Her quick inhale was matched with his and her teeth sunk into his shoulder as he slid them into her.

“Fuck, Joyce, tell me this is okay,” he gasped into her hair, his hips rising to meet the press of her.

“Yes - just, we need a rubber,” she said between breaths, pulling back to meet his eyes with hers.

“I can’t - I mean, I’ve been safe. But Joyce, I can’t have kids - “ he admitted quietly, tentatively. He wasn’t sure when this was going to come up or even if it would have, but his fuzzy mind just blurted it out and there was no taking it back now. She stared at him incredulously for a moment, confusion apparent. “I got snipped after - After everything,” he admitted as his heart constricted in his chest.

“Oh,” she leaned down to kiss him then, her hand coming to his cheek as her body rocked against his. Closing his eyes, he let her consume his pain with every touch and every breath. “Yes. It’s okay then,” she murmured as her hand slipped down between them and pulled him free of his boxers.

His resulting hiss and her groan of appreciation pushed their memories away and all that remained was them and this moment. As his mouth slid along her neck, his teeth coming to nip at her ear, she slipped her fingers in next to his and pulled her own wetness out to run along the length of him. He gasped at the feel of it and her laughter, quiet and sultry, turned the mood into something warmer that burned away the edging sadness and turned his need into something more urgent.

“I want you,” he groaned as she pulled aside her underwear and rubbed him through her juices. She moaned into his neck and moved to slide off his lap but he wouldn’t let her, his arm wrapping around her waist to hold her to him. “Where were you going?” He muttered in between whisper soft kisses across her chin.

“I want these off,” she hissed as she snapped the waistband of her underwear against her hip. Hopper’s answer was quick and decisive, his fingers tearing at the thin fabric until it gave way and he was able to slip it off her leg with ease.

“See, you didn’t have to leave me to get what you want,” he joked as he slipped a hand up her shirt to cup her breast.

She gasped at the contact and lifted up slightly to slide him inside her, her head resting against his shoulder as he swore under his breath. Neither of them moved for a moment, the feeling of them joined together for the first time causing them both to pause as their hearts beat out of their chests.

It was surreal, he thought to himself, as she lifted herself up and down against him. When he left for Vietnam he thought that would be the last time he’d ever see her, certain that it was their parting of ways. But fate had twisted them up and spit them out so that they found each other again and they were here, together, revelling in the feel of their bodies.

He wanted to take it slow, to enjoy every second of the feel of her, but his body was impatient and he was on fire for her. Without warning, he lifted them until she was perched on the edge of the table, her legs wrapping around his hips as he pushed into her deeper, always trying to gain more of her for himself. When he felt her body winding up for him he slid his free hand down to her clit, pressing and rubbing it until she was bucking against him, her arms tightening around his shoulders as she started to come undone around him.

The sight was spellbinding. He watched with a hand on the back of her neck as she curled into him, her lips finding purchase on his shoulder as she came. Her muscles clamping around him, her body urged him on until he was spilling into her, his body pressing into hers and trying to get closer, to crawl into her skin. The wave crashed over him until he could no longer stand, his body sliding back into the chair and pulling her with him, her head resting against his chest as he struggled to return his breathing to normal.

“I won’t leave you, Hop,” she murmured as their skin cooled, her arms wrapping around his hips. “Everything is going to be okay. The black hole isn’t going to take us. I promise.”

Her words echoed within him, their phrasing making his heart squeeze as she enacted the rule of promises. He wanted to believe her, desperately, but he was afraid of being blindsided again. So he said nothing in response, instead choosing to press his lips to the crown of her head before leading them back to his bed.

[curegbm]

Susan Foster info for health -

July 7, 2020

When I was a junior in college I went to school in Vienna. One of my friends was Martina Nicholson. She became an OB/GYN, and just retired last year. She has a colleague, Dr. Richard Loftus, who is a biohazard virology-trained hospitalist. In other words he is treating COVID-19 patients in the hospital. I've read a lot of these accounts and this is the most powerful one I've ever read. It makes you want to hand out masks to everyone who's not wearing one. I am going to print this and carry copies with me when I'm walking. I will hand this out to people who don't have masks. If anybody gives me a hard time for my post on masks, you will get a copy of Dr. Loftus' brilliant, raw, painful account of what it's like treating these patients. What really struck me is how sick young previously healthy patients are 3 – 4 months post release from the hospital. Please be careful. Do not, for one more second, doubt this is real.

From Martina Nicholson, MD:

From my friend Dr Rick Loftus, MD. yesterday (7/2/20), update about Covid-19:

I'm in a hotspot hospital in a hotspot region (Coachella Valley, Inland Empire, CA). We just converted the entire second floor of our hospital to COVID-19 care yesterday, July 1. We have 65 inpatients with COVID-19 in a hospital with 368 beds. It is the same at our other 2 hospitals in the Valley. We spent yesterday deciding the ethical way to divide up limited remdesivir (30 patients' worth) for the hospital patients. My 20 incoming interns for our IM resident were exposed to COVID 2 weeks ago during their computer chart training; apparently 100% of our computer trainers had COVID19. One intern tested positive 7 days later and I insisted we re-test them all again, as there are almost certainly other cases with minimal symptoms. I raided my household and took my entire supply of face shields to the hospital for the residents to wear on their first day, and I paid $1000 of my own money to equip all of my residents with medical-grade face shields. I require all residents to wear a surgical mask or N95 with face shield if they are within 6 feet of another human, patient or coworker.

Roughly 20% of our inpatients die. Only 30% of our ventilated patients survive. (We try to avoid ventilation at all costs. Some people insist on being full code and decompensate despite high flow with face mask, proning, dexamethasone, antibiotics, and a cocktail of famotidine, zinc, Vitamin D, Vitamin C, NAC, and melatonin--we throw everything we can at each case, so long as it won't hurt them.)

My administrative assistant, who sits adjacent to the interns, just went home with COVID symptoms. Her test is pending.

In the Southwest, we are experiencing catastrophic exponential growth. I have had multiple families--siblings, parent-child, spouses--admitted with COVID-19. I had a 31 year old come in satting 78% on room air; he had been sequestering himself in his bedroom for a week to avoid infecting his elderly parents, with whom he lived. His sister, the only person he saw outside his immediate household in the 10 days prior to onset of fever, cough, and dyspnea, had also had fevers but had tested "negative" at our other large hospital so he thought it was safe to visit her. (Sigh. The Quest PCR test is about 80% sensitive, we think--it had emergency approval to sensitivity data was not required. The Cepheid rapid COVID PCR test is 98.5% sensitive but is in short supply due to limited reagent availability.)

I'm glad some of you are sheltered from what unbridled COVID-19 looks like. It's a hell show. This is *July*. What do you think my hospital will look like in winter?...

This is real. Doctors in places with proper public health responses will see few cases in their hospitals--like UCSF--but let me tell you something: The laws of physics and biology don't change. If you're in an unaffected region, an introduction and poor governance and low use of physical distancing and masks will give you an exponential increase in no time flat (i.e. 2-4 weeks). That's pandemic math. And 20% of the population infected needs a hospital. You *will* run out of beds with an unbridled pandemic. There is almost ZERO pre-existing immunity to SARS-CoV-2. There may be some "priming" of T-cell responses due to exposure to other "benign" beta-coronaviruses, but we have no idea if that explains the 20-40% of people who seem to get minimal symptoms. Asymptomatic infected persons, however, can, and do, spread COVID to those who die from it.

By the way: I've seen scary looking CT scans of the lungs that look like terrible interstitial pneumonia in a patient who had ZERO symptoms and SaO2 94% on room air. She came in for palpitations and the intern overnight got a chest CT for cardiac reasons. We didn't know it was COVID until her test came back 36 hours later. So "asymptomatic" does NOT mean "no biological activity." The virus replicates furiously in people who feel fine. Kids can spread this as easily as grown ups, even if they feel okay.

Related: I've talked to two previously healthy patients ages 32 and 44 who are 3 and 4 months, respectively, post their acute COVID. They continue to have cough, nightsweats, fever, fatigue. How many survivors have "post-COVID syndrome"? We don't know. Less than 20% but we're not sure. I've asked my hospital to allow me to establish a post-COVID clinic to care for and study survivors. Both NIH and UW are planning similar efforts based on my dialogues with them.

Autopsies show anoxic brain injury in many patients who died of COVID, not to mention microthrombi throughout the lungs and megakaryocytes in massive infiltrations in their hearts and other organs. People get heart failure, lung fibrosis, and permanent kidney injury from COVID-19. This is a disease of the vascular systems, and it can affect any organ, with lungs and kidneys being especially at risk.

In early May, thanks to lockdown, our census of 55 came down to 10 COVID cases, and for a brief moment, I actually had hope that the worst nightmares I had about COVID, as a biohazard virology-trained hospitalist, would not come to pass. Then we re-opened, without test/trace/isolate systems anywhere close to adequate. Eight weeks ago my county decided to make masks "optional," despite 125 doctors begging them not to do that. Now we're worse than we were in April. And it's getting worse every day.

You wanna see if COVID is real? Come walk on my COVID ward with me. It's real. Hearing people talk about it as if it's an exaggeration is, well, rage-inducing, honestly. Denial is the most common reaction to a pandemic. Denial is how the US will wind up with 1.1 million deaths instead of 30,000. I saw AIDS denialists get killed by their belief that HIV "isn't real, it's a pharma conspiracy of the medical industrial complex." Yeah, right, if you say so. I watched patients with those beliefs die.

The hardest part about this is, every new case I treat exposes me. I have assiduous hot zone technique. But no technique is bulletproof. If you keep exposing me to case after case, eventually, the virus will get through my defenses. I'm a 50 year old hypertensive. I don't expect to do well if I get infected. For now, I keep going to work. I'm one of the few pushing forward on COVID clinical trials, basic science, public health messaging, and diagnostic studies at my hospital. I feel a responsibility to keep going. I wake up with nightmares every morning at 4am. But I'm going to keep going for now. I feel very alone a lot of the time. People are not taking this seriously, and it's costing lives. -R

"Everything we do before a pandemic will seem alarmist. Everything we do after a pandemic will seem inadequate. This is the dilemma we face, but it should not stop us from doing what we can to prepare. We need to reach out to everyone with words that inform, but not inflame. We need to encourage everyone to prepare, but not panic." — Michael O. Leavitt, 2007

--

Richard A. Loftus, MD

"Never be afraid to raise your voice for honesty and truth and compassion against injustice and lying and greed. If people all over the world...would do this, it would change the earth." --William Faulkner

[focusontheeasternlightning-blog]

Bad Things That Happened to New Believers Are Satan’s Temptations

By Titie, United States

I welcomed the Lord’s return.

Since I was little, I had followed my mom in her belief in the Lord Jesus and had enjoyed bounteous grace from Him. After I grew up, blessed by the Lord, I was successful in my career and my family was happy. I was so grateful for everything the Lord had bestowed upon me that I actively attended gatherings and ardently pursued.

At a gathering in the summer of 2003, two brothers testified about Almighty God’s kingdom gospel to me. They fellowshiped with me about various aspects of the truth, such as the purpose of God’s six-thousand-year management plan, the three stages of God’s work, and the significance of God’s name. When they fellowshiped about the scripture: “For as the lightning, that lightens out of the one part under heaven, shines to the other part under heaven; so shall also the Son of man be in his day. But first must he suffer many things, and be rejected of this generation” (Luke 17:24–25), I realized that the Lord Jesus has become flesh once again and expressed the truth in the image of the Son of man, doing the work of judgment beginning with God’s family; He is condemned and rejected by the pastors and elders in the religious world. This reminded me that the pastor and elders told us to guard against Eastern Lightning at every gathering, stopping brothers and sisters from investigating Almighty God’s work of the last days. It was just like how the Roman government and the Pharisees condemned and rejected the Lord Jesus when He came to carry out His work. This exactly fulfills the words: “But first must he suffer many things, and be rejected of this generation.” At that time, I felt brightened within and confirmed from my heart that Almighty God is the return of the Lord Jesus. At the end of the gathering, the brother gave me a copy of The Scroll Opened by the Lamb and told me that this book is the personal utterances of the Christ of the last days and that I should read God’s words more in my spare time. On my way home, I was very happy, thinking, “In my lifetime, I am able to welcome the Lord’s return. This is truly my blessing and special favor! I will properly follow Almighty God.”

Afterward, I eagerly read God’s words whenever I had time, feeling these words were so good. Through reading Almighty God’s words, I understood many mysteries in the Bible I didn’t understand in the past, my heart becoming more and more brightened. Just when I was enjoying the bountiful supply of God’s words, Satan’s temptations suddenly befell me.

Temptations befell me.

One morning, just after my husband got up, his waist suddenly hurt so badly that he couldn’t stand straight. Unable to work, he could only lie in bed. Seeing his pained expression, I felt distressed and bewildered, “He was fine yesterday. How could he become like this today?” Then I called my parents-in-law, asking them to take my husband to the hospital. Only a few days later, my daughter, who was always very healthy, got a cough and had a high fever all of a sudden. I iced her forehead constantly and gave her cough medicine, but neither worked. She was still running a high temperature and had a sore throat. I had to take her to the hospital to get an infusion. Seeing that my little daughter kept crying when the doctor gave her the injection, I got saddened but couldn’t do anything to help her.

Misfortunes never come single. The brisk business in my clothing store suddenly went south and the daily profit wasn’t enough to cover the rent. I couldn’t help worrying, “My business has been bothering me, and after getting back home, I have to look after my sick husband and daughter. What if things go on like this?” Pained and weak, I thought, “Why have I encountered so many unfortunate things? Why did God not protect me? Could it be that I put my faith in the wrong place? Before I accepted God’s new work, everything in my life went smoothly: My family was at peace; the business in my store was brisk and whatever I stocked sold well. How come things are like this now?” I was loaded down with these problems. Unable to quiet my heart, I read God’s words perfunctorily. Then, I prayed to God silently in my heart, “Oh Almighty God! Since I accepted Your new work, why do I still encounter these calamities? My husband and daughter both are ill, and my business is bad. I can’t feel Your grace and blessings. Oh God! What’s going on? I don’t understand Your will. Please lead me.”

God’s words resolved my confusion.

At a gathering, I told my sisters about what happened to me. Hearing my words, a sister said to me, “The reason why we encounter these unfavorable matters is because of Satan’s disturbance. Satan is hostile to God and it is unwilling to see people return before God and obtain His eternal salvation. So, Satan uses various ways to interfere and prevent us from accepting the true way. Only when we see through Satan’s schemes can we not be deceived by it.” Then, the sister read one passage of God’s words to me: “In every step of work that God does within people, externally it appears to be interactions between people, as if born of human arrangements, or from human interference. But behind the scenes, every step of work, and everything that happens, is a wager made by Satan before God, and requires people to stand firm in their testimony to God.” After reading God’s words, the sister fellowshiped with me, saying, “Outwardly, your husband and kid suddenly get ill and your business goes south, but actually, it is a spiritual battle; it’s Satan’s wager with God. Today, God’s coming to do the work of judgment in the last days is to save us mankind from Satan’s dark influence, so that we can live under God’s care and blessing. However, Satan is unwilling to let us worship and obey God. So, when God saves us, it trails along behind Him and uses all kinds of methods to tempt and disturb us, doing its best to prevent us from returning before God. For example, Satan targets and attacks our weak points. It makes our family lose peace so that we would fall into its temptation and mistakenly think that we encounter these matters because we put our faith in the wrong place. Its purpose is to cause us to doubt God, deny God and finally refuse God’s salvation and miss the extremely rare chance to be saved. In fact, everything God does in us human is love and salvation; only Satan harms us like this. Yet these matters we encounter are sanctioned by God. God permitting Satan to do so is to make us recognize its evil essence and see clearly the ugliness of Satan that uses various methods to disturb us and stop us from coming before God and obtaining His salvation. Meanwhile, God uses Satan’s obstacle and disturbance to test whether or not we truly follow Him; if we truly believe in God, no matter how Satan disturbs us, we will stand witness for God relying on our faith.”

After listening to the sister’s fellowship, I suddenly realized: These calamities I am encountering are in fact Satan’s disturbance, and it wants to use these to prevent me from accepting the true way. Its motive is too vicious! At the same time, I also understood this: Everyone who accepts God’s new work has to experience the spiritual battle. God’s permitting Satan to tempt me is to make me see through its schemes and know its evil substance so that I can finally stand witness for Him. God’s wisdom is exercised based on Satan’s schemes. After coming back home, I prayed to God, “Oh Almighty God! It turns out that these unhappy situations I encounter are Satan’s disturbances. Oh God! Now I know it is Satan’s scheme. I’m willing to stand witness and won’t forsake You. May You guide me and give me faith.”

I saw through Satan’s schemes.

After my prayer, the emotions I had restrained for so long were a little released. However, after a period of time, the business in my store was still stagnant; sometimes the profit even couldn’t cover the rent. Therefore, I was very distressed, thinking, “Every month, besides our high daily expenses, we not only have to pay the rent but also have to repay the housing loan. We can barely live on my husband’s salary. What if this keeps up?” Unconsciously, I again fell into Satan’s trap. My confidence in God started to ebb away and I felt very weak in my spirit.Right as I was perplexed, I saw a passage of God’s words: “What you pursue is to be able to gain peace after believing in God—for your children to be free from illness, for your husband to have a good job, for your son to find a good wife, for your daughter to find a decent husband, for your oxen and horses to plough the land well, for a year of good weather for your crops. This is what you seek. Your pursuit is only to live in comfort, for no accidents to befall your family, for the winds to pass you by, for your face to be untouched by grit, for your family’s crops to not be flooded, for you to be unaffected by any disaster, to live in God’s embrace, to live in a cozy nest. A coward such as you, who always pursues the flesh—do you have a heart, do you have a spirit? Are you not a beast? I give you the true way without asking for anything in return, yet you do not pursue. Are you one of those who believe in God?”

Through the revelation of God’s words, I realized that my perspective of believing in God was wrong. I thought as long as I believed in God, He would give me peace and grace and I wouldn’t encounter any unhappy situation. When my family was not at peace and I couldn’t afford the rent, I complained against God and doubted His work. I regarded God as an object that I could make demands of. God is the Creator while I’m only a created being; worshiping and obeying God is the law of heaven for me. God became flesh twice to work to save us and has provided for us selflessly without claiming anything from us, while in my belief in God I blindly made demands of Him. I was so unreasonable. Was I at all like a true believer? In the past, I thought I believed in God sincerely, because since I was little I had believed in the Lord, and I also accepted God’s new work. However, today, faced with the fact, I had to admit that my belief in God was only to gain blessings and grace. I was really unworthy of God’s salvation! “Now Satan is taking advantage of my intention of gaining blessings to disturb me, and to make me shun and deny God, and thereby to cause me to betray God due to not gaining grace. Satan is too evil. If I’m weak and passive and complain against God, am I not falling for Satan’s scheme?” At this thought, I had the will to betray Satan and satisfy God. “No matter what environment I encounter, I am willing to rely on God to experience it and never complain against or doubt Him again.” I thought of God’s words, “Any and all things, living or dead, will shift, change, renew, and disappear according to God’s thoughts. This is how God rules over all things.” “Yeah, everything in the universe is determined by God, and changes according to His thoughts. No matter how savage Satan is, it is also under God’s feet. Whether or not I can afford the rent and whether or not my husband and daughter can recover are in God’s hands. I should look upon God and entrust these to God.” At that time, I was no more restrained by these matters.

God showed His deeds.

Thank God! When I was willing to obey, something miraculous happened. My daughter gradually recovered from her fever and cough, and my husband’s waist slowly got better after treatment; my business also picked up. I couldn’t help giving thanks to God in my heart. If it hadn’t been for God’s protection and the timely guidance of His words, I would have fallen for Satan’s schemes and thus have lost God’s salvation.

After experiencing the spiritual battle, I saw Satan’s meanness and evilness and turned around my wrong perspective of believing in God. Instead of seeking blessings and welfare of the flesh, we believers in God should seek truth and grasp God’s will from all people, events, and things we experience based on a belief that God holds sovereignty over everything; at the same time, we should get to know ourselves through the revelation of God’s words and finally achieve changes in our dispositions and live out the likeness of a real man. Only thus can we be said to believe in God. Just as God’s words say, “True faith in God means experiencing the words and work of God based on a belief that God holds sovereignty over all things. So you shall be freed of your corrupt disposition, shall fulfill the desire of God, and shall come to know God. Only through such a journey can you be said to believe in God.” Thank God! All the glory be to God!