#they'd still have that branch but the rest of them would crumble

[calamitoustide]

this but jeg

[pacifymebby]

t r o u b l e / chapter sixteen

Sonya

I followed Bonnie away from the camp quietly, keeping my head down to hide my selfconcious blush. I wondered how many of his family knew who I was, beyond my being Tommys little sister. I wondered what they thought of me, whether they were laughing at me now. The prima ballerina, spoilt rotten all her life, reduced to this, held captive by her brother, having to go back to the roots she'd tried so desperately to escape, hiding in a vardo for a little peace and quiet.

I didn't want anyone to see my red eyes, the tear stains on my cheeks or the sorry look I couldn't wipe off my face. I knew what they'd think if they saw me. They'd think I was getting everything I deserved, that it served me right for thinking I was better than them, for thinking I could social climb above my station, join the royal ballet instead of learning how to skin a rabbit.

But as we walked further away from the little settlement I began to relax a little knowing there were no longer prying eyes trained on my every move.

I slowed down, let my arms fall down to my sides so that the long grass could brush my hands and tickle my arms. I didn't noticed Bonnie turning to check on me every now and then because I had my head to the sky and the trees above us. There were clouds in the sky but it wasn't gloomy, a muted afternoon with just enough of a breeze to shiver the trees, the pale sun shimmering through the gentle sway of the branches.

There were little birds taking turns to fly back and forth between a hedgerow and the trees and I watched them curiously.

"They're wrens," said Bonnie turning around to face me with his hands in his pockets, nodding to the tree when I looked at him a little surprised. He hadn't spoken to me since we'd left the camp and I'd grown used to the thick quiet between us. "Well actually," he said coming to stand by my side, stooping a little so that his gaze lined up with mine as he squinted up at the tree which had caught my eye. It wasn't really a tree see, it was a climber kind of ivy which had grown so tall against the side of the old barn, grown so thick and green that it looked like a tree until you really concentrated. "Those are wrens," he said pointing to the dry stone wall which was crumbling by the barn doors, "those," he said returning his attention to the climber, "will be house sparrows... Noisy bastards," he grinned.

"They always sing like this?" I asked a little stunned, it was a cacophony really, it sounded less like a song and more like laughter and when Bonnie saw my wide eyes he joined them with a childish chuckle of his own.

"More like chattering really, me mam always used to say House Sparrows are gossips, never trust em with a secret..." he said beginning to walk backwards down the path, still smiling at me.

"Who, who can you trust with a secret?" I asked my cheeks prickling with embarrassment because it felt like a stupid question. The kind a little girl would ask, not the kind I should ask. Bonnie just shrugged his shoulders and nodded for me to follow him.

"I don't know," he smirked, his fingers dancing over the collar of his shirt, resting over a st christopher which hung around his neck, "god a s'pose..." he said only serious for a second before he cracked a grin and shot you a wink, "C'mon lass i fancy a swim.."

"What if they're looking for me, that's the first place Tommy will look for me..." i said a twist of discomfort in my stomach.

"Then he'll have already looked there won't he," he said still smiling as he reached for sleeve and gently tugged me along, "the water might do you good to eh, wash away that frown," he said with a teasing glint in his eyes which left me smiling shyly at my feet, letting him lead me along the path which followed the perimeter of the manor grounds and would apparently, eventually lead us back to the lake.

It was midafternoon when we reached the wilding grass at the edge of the estate. The sun was warm enough that I didn't feel the cold even when I slipped out of my pale pink ballet sweater and placed it down on the roots of a particularly old and gnarled tree.

I watched Bonnie shrug his tshirt over his head, his lean torso rippling, showing only for a second the strength he concealed in his lithe frame. I didn't realise I was starring until I felt his eyes on me. He was starring too but it didn't stop the blush staining my cheeks crimson.

"Whatre you starrin at now lass, no house sparrows nesting here..." he grinned, his voice quieter, a knowing, smirking tone to it which got under my skin and left my mouth opening and closing, flustered, desperate to think of something clever to say. All I could do however was to blurt out his hypocrisy, my shrill tone only furthering my humiliation.

"You're starring at me too!"

"Oh," he chuckled, "so it is me you're lookin at, I thought for a second maybe Ryan Gosling was stood behind me..." he said his fingers dancing over his belt buckle as he shimmied out of his black jeans and left them in a heap beside his top.

I didn't know what to say then, I could only laugh nervously as I undid the tie on my little wrap skirt and let the flimsy material fall with a flutter to the grass.

Bonnie was still watching me, his eyes following the silky material as it shimmered and drifted ethereal to my feet, but when I hesitated with the waistband of my tights he turned away sharply, diving into the lake without another word. The water splashed me as it split for him and swallowed him whole, the cool droplets stunning me and snapping me out of my own daze.

It took him a moment to surface, an erruption of bubbles preceding the ripples of his reappearance.

"Hurry up lass the waters lovely," he called holding his hand to his eyes to shield them from the sun. He was looking straight at me but I wasn't really sure how much of me he could see with the sun directly behind me, gleaming bright. I could only hope that I was, for the most part in shadow. That he wouldn't be able to see the bruises on my legs from taking one too many tumbles at rehearsals. That he wouldn't be able to see the wretched state of me feet after weeks of endless point exercises.

I'd lost both nails on my big toes and my left foot was bruised all along the arch. Usually people who saw them were horrified and I tried my best to keep my injuries hidden at all costs. It ruined the "fae" like enchantment I was supposed to cast on all who saw me with my delicate grace. It reminded them the sacrifices that were made for perfection.

So as I stood there on the edge of the lake I felt hesitant again. I paused, arms wrapping around my waist protectively. My ribs were scattered with bruises too and I had an old greeny grey ink spill of a bruise spread across my shoulder too.

Now that I was stood before him in only my underwear I was concious he might see me. Might be disgusted at the sight of me...

"Close your eyes Mr Gold, my brother will kill you if he catches you looking at me..." I said trying to laugh, trying to pretend I was only joking. Scared he wouldn't take me seriously.

"Aye alright alright," he grinned covering his eyes with his hands and beginning to count down from ten, "but if you ain't in this water when I hit 0 I'm gonna get out an push ye..."

And when I hesitated he carried on counting, listening for my movement on the bank, his countdown getting quicker when still I didn't move.

"Six... Five..."

"Wait... Is it cold?"

"Four Three, I ain't kiddin on with ye Sonya!"

I felt a flurry of nerves errupt inside of me, escaping as a laugh as I squeezed my eyes shut, hands over my eyes, feeling suddenly as a little girl again, fearful of my big brothers threatening to "get me."

"Two..." he said, his cheeky smile flexing, dimple popping in his cheek.

And just as he hit one and sprang to snatch at my ankles, had I jumped in, flying over his head far less gracefully than I'd have liked, landing with a splash behind him. Water sprayed through the air and the sound ricocheted off the trees, the squeal which had escaped me when I'd jumped disturbing the birds in the trees sending them flying and chattering, cawcawing through the once peaceful afternoon.

I resurfaced to Bonnie laughing, rubbing lake water from his eyes, his skin beaded with the droplets from my splash.

"That was one hell of a jump lass," he grinned, "whats the matter did ye get yourself all in a panic eh?"

"It was your fault," I giggled rubbing the water from my own eyes, pushing my blonde fringe from out of my eyes, "you an all your threats!"

"So I scared you did I?" he grinned swimming closer to me, "thought I was gonna snatch ye up did ye?" he was smiling one of those mischievous teenage kind of smiles, the ones lads never really grow out of, ones they still wear when theyre 50 and thinking up old tricks they can play on their kids and their wife... The kind of smile which promises trouble.

"Stay back Bonnie Gold... Don't you dare..."

"What?" he asked, cheeky grin, playing at innocence with a little frown, "what I'm not gonna do anything?"

"I know what you're thinkin, don't you dare..." I said kicking my legs to push myself back through the water away from him, eyes locked with his all the while. I couldn't tear my gaze from his, even if I'd wanted to I couldn't. I couldn't wipe the smile off my lips either.

"Nah," he said shaking his head, his smile softening then, "nah don't worry lass I ain't gonna do anything I promise..." he said pushing his wet curls from out of his eyes, averting his gaze down to the water then over his shoulder to the bank where our clothes remained. "Honestly Sonya, I ain't gonna do anythin," he said again, his voice lower and more serious then so that as I eyea him suspiciously studying him carefully, i could discern that he was in fact telling me the truth. "Here you swim for a bit," he said kicking and pushing himself back to the side of the lake where he leant on the grassy verge, head resting in his arms before he tensed himself and pushing himself out.

I watched the water fall from him, trickling fast like a river flowing down his back to reveal the musles in his arms and shoulders. I was still starring when he lay back on the grass, propping himself up on his elbows. Watching me quietly.

"Wait..." I frowned, "you're the one who said you wanted to swim," I said confusion flooding my crinkled features. His eyes flickered over me, took in the sight of me starring at him like that, and when his lips twitched with a smirk he shrugged his shoulders in response.

"I guess I changed my mind," he said leaning back against the tree trunk and closing his eyes.

"Aren't you supposed to be my bodyguard... How are you gonna keep me safe napping under a tree like frodo fuckin baggins?" I asked with a cheeky grin, one which Bonnie didn't even open his eyes to see.

"Am not sleepin lass, I'm listenin... Go on enjoy your swim," he said gesturing vaguely with his hand in the direction of me and the water I was floating in.

So I did as he said, glancing back at him every now and then to see what he was doing. Trying to work out what he meant by "listening." Whatever he meant he didn't keep it up for very long because the next time I looked back he was sitting on the bank with his jeans rolled up to his knees, his shins in the water, legs kicking idly, leaning on one hand in the grass behind his back, the other holding a handful of berries he was eating slowly.

When I swam over to see what he was eating he seemed ever so tranquil, his shirtless chest rising and falling slowly, his eyes dark but warm and calm as he looked down at me.

"Want a blackberry?" he asked opening his palm.

"Um.."

"They're good ones I promise, just about ripe not bitter like some of em are if you get em too early..."

"Thank you," I said leaning on the bank, pinching one between my finger and thumb carefully, hesitating to pop it into my mouth.

It was just a blackberry. I frowned as I repeated the thought a few more times, growing concious of Bonnies eyes on me, knowing he'd be waiting for me to try it. Knowing it didn't usually take people so long to make such a trivial decision.

He was right, it was a good berry, sweet and juicy, when it burst between my teeth the tang was tart on my tongue and I smiled a blackberry juice smile up at him.

"That was actually really good," I said, "really good."

"Aye well Ive got an eye for tellin the ripe ones I guess," he said offering me another, frowning when I shook my head. "Can't be that good then can it lass..." he said the wounded look only a joke which didn't linger in his eyes long before it was replaced with a smile.

I licked my lips and ran my tongue over my teeth behind my closed mouth, watching him for a second, wondering if he was waiting for me to come up with an excuse. When he stopped looking down at me and started looking up at the sky instead I changed my mind and returned to the water to swim around the lake once more.

I swam until I felt tired, that hungry kind of lethargy seeping into my muscles from somewhere behind my eyes. When I returned to the bank Bonnie had gone and I felt my stomach drop, a little fear prickling my skin as I pushed myself out of the water quietly.

The afternoon had tired too and the sunlight through the trees was a dappled sunset shade of orange. Still just about warm but not really warm enough. I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself, looking for my clothes but they were gone too.

I stood there for a second, confused before I got scared.

I didn't get scared until I heard a twig snap in the long grass. Until I heard movement I couldn't decipher.

I tried to reason with my anxiety, tried to tell myself it was most likely just Bonnie, but something in my heart said otherwise. Something told me I needed to be careful. That I ought to lower myself quietly to the ground and attempt to remain concealed from view.

My ears burnt as I strained to hear through the ambient sound, tried to listen past the breeze shivering the leaves to hear if I could hear anymore signs of movement. There was a shuffling sound, feet crunching dry grass. I caught my breath, bit down on the tip of my tongue to focus myself, it was the same same technique i used in school, create a sensation to draw my attention to to distract myself from the stressors I was trying to ignore.

I reached the gnarled hornbeam and backed up against the bark, pressing my body between the protruding roots, shutting my eyes fearfully, trying to do as Bonnie had done earlier and "listen."

But when the footsteps stopped I recognised the voice which accompanied them and when I opened my eyes it was with a wince of self conciousness that I looked up at Bonnie who was crouching down in front of me with a little frown pinching his brow.

"Are y' alright lass you look a bit pale..." he said touching the back of his hand to my forehead, smirking when I blinked back at him speechless. "You cold or somet you've got the shivers..." he said standing up and stretching one arm up above his head. For a second I was confused about what he was doing, how he tilted his head up, bent his back over just slightly. But then he snatched up above him and pulled his polo shirt down, handing it to me. When I looked up I realised he'd hung all of our clothes up in the branches, they must have gotten wet when I'd splashed.

"Where were you? I got out the lake and you weren't here..."

"Didn't go anywhere," he shrugged, "was only behind this tree lass, built us a fire so y'wouldnt catch cold when you got out..."

"Oh..." I said with a nervous laugh, trying to hide my relief. Not wanting him to realise how scared Id been.

"You really thought I'd just left yas out here alone?" he frowned then, his knitted brow caught between amusement and dissapointment so that I felt guilty when I shook my head and tried to convince us both that no, I hadn't really thought that at all.

"I don't know I thought something might have happened to you... You weren't here.."

"Aye well, nothin happened to me so get that worried look off your face eh miss," he said his cheeky smile returning as he disappeared behind the tree calling out to me a moment later when I didn't follow. "C'mon lass you'll be warmer by the fire, the Opera house won't want you back if you've got a rotten cold..."

"The Opera house won't want me back now anyway..." I said with a sad smirk as I sat down in the grass playing nervously with my fingers. I could feel Bonnie's eyes on me and I tugged the hem of his polo top down over my thighs gathering the excess material in my lap to hide my underwear. Going for a swim had felt like a good idea at the time but now I was sitting so close to him with only his borrowed shirt to keep my modesty in tact I was beginning to feel a little selfconcious again.

"Tommy said he was gonna sort that," he said gently as if he knew I wouldn't believe him either.

"Tommy forgets there are some people he doesn't own..." I said chewing my cheek, "he thinks just cause he's blackmailed a few politicans and oligarchs he's going to be able to do the same to the director? It ain't happening trust me,"

"Aren't you supposed to be the most promising starlet in Europe?" he asked leaning back against the Hornbeam trunk with both hands behind his head, smiling cheeky and pleased with himself when I blushed and shook my head. He was quoting the last article published about me, letting me know just how much he knew about me. It piqued my defenses, got just enough under my skin that I felt my jaw tense, a stinging feeling in my mouth as my body threatened me with more tears.

This time I was determined to hold them back, determined he wasn't going to watch me fall apart over something that had started as a teasing joke about staying warm.

"I was," I said curtly, surprising myself with the harshness of my tone, "last week... Things have a way of changing too quickly for me to catch up with..." i trailed off, a lumo in my throat. My heart beginning to race as my emotions got the better of me and I began to grow stiff with upset.

"Nah," he shook his head, "sorry lass I don't believe y" he obviously didn't realise the delicste line he was treading, obviously didn't realise that he was pushing all of my buttons and none of them good.

"Doesn't really matter if you do or not does it," I shrugged, "you're not the ballet director... You're just a bodyguard."

I stood up, in a hurry to take his tshirt off and retrieve my own things from the higher branches of the tree. I must have looked ridiculous, I felt humiliatingly so as I stretched my arm out above my head and did a little jump to snatch at my skirt.

Bonnie stood too, his own face the picture of confusion as he came up beside me and took my sweater down from the tree.

"Whatre you doin lass these are still soaked..."

"I'm going to my room," I said sharply, my cold streak shocking him, making him flinch away slightly. He almost looked wounded himself.

"Aye but you don't wanna be putting y'wet clothes back on you'll make y'self ill!"

"Thats an old wives tale Bonnie," I sighed impatiently, "even you should know that..." I said snatched my tights from his hand, scrunching them up in my fist and storming away.

I was hoping the door to the passage would be open because if it wasn't Tommys estste was very big and I was very lost. I could hear Bonnie scrambling behind me, throwing water on the fire, pulling his top over his head as he jogged to catch up with me. I knew that if the door was locked I'd have no choice but to turn back to him.

"Sonya," he called after me, "whats the matter, whatre you doin?"

"I told you already Bonnie, I'm going to my room... Thanks for trying to help but it didn't work... I don't want to see anyone right now..." I carried on skirting around the real reason even when he was diligently shadowing me through the passage which lead back to the manor. Even when I'd tried to close the door on him and he'd stopped it with his foot.

"Sorry lass, I might be "just a bodyguard," but I'd like to do a half decent job if y'dont mind... Don't really want to find out what happens if I fuck it up y'know..." He'd said still with that cheeky smile, one which had bought me so much confort earlier but was completely infuriating now... One which was naive and bissfully unaware that when we got back to the house we would both see how Tommy was taking exactly that...

Someone fucking up.

[the-traveling-poet]

The R.O.S.E.

Prologue

Description

The R.O.S.E., or rather the Recovery Operations Squad Experiment put together by Commander Dot Pixis, had so far been a success.

The people of the southern district's desire to have something of their loved ones retrieved from titan territory to bury finally made it to court. Though it had been overruled by Premier Darius Zackly, Pixis found he could not let the issue rest. In an attempt to boost moral for his people, Pixis assigned his top Captain, Aviline Faye, to this new squad. Despite the danger of retrieval, it was decided they must at least try; for the ease of mind for humanity.

But as the walls crumble, Faye and her squad find themselves occupying a new position; under Commander Erwin Smith of the Survey Corps.

Can the two branches learn to get along?

~~~

(This fic will contain potentially sensitive themes, such as; graphic violence, strong language, alcoholism, smoking, general gore, and perhaps some sexual themes later on. Please do not repost to any other platforms.)

A/N: I’ve decided to post my first fic here as well as on Wattpad, for funsies :p

Taglist: @21aurora @deepzombieyouth @braunsbabe

You can read the rest here, but I’ll continue to post on Tumblr all the same!

Enjoy~

More Chapters

Year 845, Wall Rose, Trost District.

A clear morning sky quickly changed to deep oranges and bright yellows as evening fell across the land of Trost, yet still the many voices of those wandering about the streets below pierced the otherwise still atmosphere around the large city. Summer was only just beginning, and many found the cool air of late spring to be far more favorable weather to stroll about in, over the rains and snows that the month of May had brought them only a couple of weeks prior.

Children ran about as parents watched on in groups with neighbors. Couples sat on benches hand in hand with beverages and pastries bought from their favorite family owned shops, as said shop owners left their stores for the evening to find a drink at their nearest taverns and unwind, before the next day brought them a repeat of the days before.

A typical evening for the city, in all. A city who's only ever known peace through labor and trade.

Yet soon that would change, as a carriage pulled by two chestnut mares made its way up the cobble stone street on its way toward the center of the city.

At its arrival, the coachman climbed down from his seat and started tending to the horses. Behind him, the carriage doors opened on both sides and out climbed three people clad in green cloaks. The tallest of the three approached the coachman and gave him his thanks, then turned and made his way across the stone courtyard, his two accomplices not far behind him.

Just as the sun hit the edge of the horizon over the peak of the walls, they'd crossed the courtyard and stood before a flight of stairs that led them to their destination. And there, at the very top, stood a man flanked by two formally uniformed soldiers posed at attention, with hands clutching at the base of the rifles positioned over their shoulders.

"Commander Erwin!" the man atop the stairs called down. "Wonderful to see you again, my old friend."

Erwin stopped in his tracks before the first step and straightened up to salute to his superior with a polite smile.

"Likewise, Chief Commander Pyxis. May my companions, Captain Hange and Cadet Levi, and I join you the evening?" Erwin returned his friend's greeting, perhaps more formally than he would have. Had this situation not been so dire.

"Of course. You called for this evening to be arranged, did you not?" Pyxis grinned and waved off the guards, before turning his back to the scouts and making for the large wooden doors that led into the city's Main Hall behind him.

"Well? The drinks aren't going to pour themselves. I suggest you make haste and join me, before I change my mind on offering you one," Pyxis chuckled gruffly over his shoulder as the doors opened for him.

Shaking his head with weary smile, Erwin led the way towards the hall before his companions could begin to wonder aloud the nature in which the two Commanders commerced.

Commander Pyxis led the trio into a bright, candle lit room with a weary sigh, his scarred and aging hand coming up to rub at his brow wearily, while his other hand sought out a dark bottle perched on a single stand that was stationed near the door.

The room they now occupied was rustic in nature. Maps from many districts within all three walls were displayed on table tops, pinned alongside stagey boards taking up nearly half of the westward wall. An empty bottle or two accompanied sheathed blades and letter openers on the Commander's wide desk, making it look messy and disarrayed, yet organized all the same somehow.

Pyxis briskly, yet with an ever so slight limp, then made his way to sit behind the large ornate desk sat at the far end of the room, faced back against large windows that overlooked the sprawling city of Trost. Beckoning the trio at the door to come take a seat around a small round table placed just off from the desk, the old man uncorked his bottle with a satisfying 'pop' and grabbed for a clean glass amongst the many that lined a shelf on his left.

As Erwin, Hange, and Levi took their seats, Pyxis began to pour himself a generous amount from the bottle into his glass.

"By chance, should any of you fancy a glass of bourbon?" Pyxis looked to each of them in turn as he spoke. Hange was quick to raise her hand up, but Erwin was even quicker to place her hand back onto the table above her lap.

"A generous offer, thank you, but I'm afraid we will have to decline," Erwin spoke up with a curt smile.

"Ah, I see, more for myself, then," Pyxis mused on, continuing to fill his glass.

Hange watched on with an envious frown.

A moment of silence followed as the Chief Commander easily downed half his glass and took a steady breath before their meeting began.

"So tell me, Erwin; What brings you to Trost this fine evening?" Pyxis began.

"We came to discuss a situation regarding the Scout Regimen with you, sir. I wrote to you about this in brief detail last week," spoke Erwin, his lip slightly downturned.

"Oh? I suppose I recall receiving such a note. Usually you come to me alone for these sorts of things, Commander Erwin," Pyxis raised a curious brow, shooting a quick glance towards the two other scouts sat at the left and right of Erwin. Erwin nodded at this, and quickly explained.

"I had them accompany me to give their opinions on the matters I must discuss with you, and to have them overall observe. They have witnessed firsthand today the issue that has arisen, so I saw their attendance as acceptable. As you know, we returned earlier this evening from the expedition held early this morning. I felt this timing to be adequate."

"Fair enough. Now, tell me," Pyxis briefly paused to take a gulp of his bourbon before continuing,

"What was so urgent you felt the need to reach out to me and plan this meeting just after arriving back within the walls?"

Here Erwin turned to Hange, allowing her to take the lead, to the novice scientist's great surprise. She quickly stood and saluted to Pyxis enthusiastically, who merely raised his hand dismissively, urging her to speak.

"Well, sir," Hange began, "We've begun to notice an increase in enemy numbers outside the walls. More often than not, they merely wander aimlessly until provoked. Lately, they appear to be more...aggressive? Without prompt they have begun to act on aggression, and seek out our troops at a far enough distance that they shouldn't have minded our presence.

Also, their appearance near the outermost wall has become more and more frequent. They gather in groups, behaving frantically."

Here Hange took a pause, unable to uphold formalities any longer as her excitement took over.

"It's nothing I've quite seen before in my years of extensively researching them, which is actually quite fascinating! It's as if they've become motivated to migrate inwards in groups, to act erratically! I've been meaning to capture one or two live ones...or perhaps three live specimens...to examine them closer at hand! And I-"

Hange's increasingly excited rambling was cut short by a scoff from Levi.

"You're rambling, brat." he muttered to himself under his breath. He gave the scientist a pointed look from under his lashes, brows furrowed with crossed arms over his chest as he leaned back in the rickety chair.

"Well, in a way, maybe, but uh, anyways!" Hange continued rather sheepishly, after a look towards her comrade.

"They're becoming so invasive, and so aggressive, we're running lower and lower on experienced soldiers who can safely keep them at bay!"

"There's only so many places the combat veterans can be at one time to save and kick ass," Levi added quietly.

Erwin nodded his agreement to this, but otherwise stayed silent as he observed Pixis's eyes light up with a shine akin to realization. Over what, Erwin couldn't be certain. And thus he spoke once more.

"And that is why we have come; to bring this matter to your attention, and to find a solution. We realize the next batch of soldiers to come from bootcamp won't be ready for another six months, and we're losing veterans left and right through this aggression. I felt it appropriate to alert the higher branches, in case of catastrophe."

Erwin concluded with calloused hands crossing with one another on the table, as he leaned forward to catch the elder's eyes.

Pyxis's brows furrowed in thought.

After a quiet moment, he finally met Erwin's inquisitive stare as a thought entered his mind.

"Nocturnal expeditions." He said simply, offering no further comment.

"Nocturnal?" Hange exclaimed in bewilderment, her nose scrunching up in confusion to such a notion.

"Why yes, Captain Hange. The titans, as we know, aren't active during nocturnal hours. Thus, it's a little easier to dispose of them." The man continued, leaning back in his chair to take another generous gulp of the burning liquid in his glass. For a moment, he seemed to hesitate to speak more, but with a sigh he leaned back to rest his elbows on the polished wood of his desk.

"I personally have my own squad designed for these missions specifically." Pyxis spoke slowly, as though hesitant to share this information.

"You have your own personalized squad?" Erwin's brows shot up in surprise, calluses hands coming up to grip the edge of the table.

"I do. I personally named them the R.O.S.E. or rather, the Recovery Operations Squad Experiment. Currently, they are under my supervision and command. I have since elected to keep this information to myself, as the idea itself is merely an experiment. But, seeing as this mess is spreading, perhaps it needs brought to light."

Pyxis's offhanded comment made Erwin raise a brow, almost in disbelief.

Seeing his hesitation, Pyxis continued.

"They specialize in retrieving the remains of our fallen soldiers an hour after nightfall; to ensure the titans' inactivity for the squad's safety. There was a request from the civilians of the walls; a request to have something retrieved of their lost loved ones after battle. Word of the request made its way up to me, and I acted accordingly. Although, it might have been behind the backs of many."

Pyxis gulped down his remaining whisky, taking a deep breath after the burning liquid quenched his thirst. Yet after a moment of silence, he continued quietly, almost as if to himself.

"This does not mean, in fact, that they remain safe. It gets more intense than one would think." Pyxis commented in thought.

"How so?" Hange asked excitedly, leaning forward on the table, very interested to learn more about these creatures than they already knew.

"Well, my dear." Pyxis trailed off a moment, as if remembering something regretful.

"This issue you have brought to my attention...This is not the first I've heard of it. For weeks now, my squad has recounted similar instances and received injury." He revealed solemnly, staring down at the glass now gripped tightly in his hand.

"Sometimes, these titans...they become active in the dead of night." Pixis solemnly replied.

{ word count ~ 1,896 }

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[casspurrjoybell-29]

Healing Ties - Chapter 29 - Part 1

*Warning: Adult Content*  

Yore winced against the pain as his body contorted itself into wolf form once more.

He'd about lost track of how many times he'd shifted today and he'd have to do it at least once more when he reached his destination.

Hopefully his grandmother wouldn't want to travel anywhere.

He didn't like to show weakness in front of her but he was really pushing his body to its limits.

Running helped loosen up some parts of him and made others hurt more.

He tried to just ignore the pain, to disregard it and deny it any power over him but it wasn't always easy.

It was a constant battle against a tireless enemy and whenever he faltered, there it was.

Despite all the chaos, he'd enjoyed travelling with Fanner.

He hadn't felt the need to pretend to be perfect, to hide when he was hurting.

For those few days, he was nothing more than himself and that was all Fanner had wanted from him.

That was what he'd enjoyed about his time in the human military.

He'd been a different person back then, of course, with none of this pain or the dark memories that stirred every time he smelled his own blood or felt restrained but he'd still had the weight of responsibility bearing down on him.

Being completely unimportant for a few months had been a welcome break.

He'd had his detractors back then, too, of course.

Others who felt that spending time around humans was a waste of time, dangerous, even traitorous.

He hadn't worried about that kind of thing back then, though.

He was the rightful heir and most people had liked and approved of him.

Nobody would have acted against him.

Now he was... less popular or at least people had less faith in his leadership abilities.

Less faith he would even truly qualify as his grandmother's heir.

He didn't disagree with those assessments.

Under different circumstances, he might have willingly stepped down.

As it was, though, there was no one he trusted to take his place, to continue to advocate for the mages.

At this point he was fairly sure he would never inherit but he had to keep this going as long as he could for the sake of the mages.

It was a few hours of sprinting through the wilderness before he started to see the first signs he was nearing his destination and slowed down.

Yore liked to try to imagine what the crumbling remnants of houses had looked like when they were new.

He had seen pictures in books of what neighbourhoods had looked like, had seen human settlements now in his travels that maybe weren't so different but it was still hard to imagine these houses surrounded by flat stretches of bare grass and with neatly maintained gardens.

His favourite house along this stretch had a tree growing up through the middle of its remains, branches reaching through windows until the top of it had finally torn a hole through the roof to free it.

Pixies had made their tiny homes in its branches, hanging glass spheres of every colour with holes in the fronts so that the pixies could crawl in and curl up inside.

They'd decorated them with jewelry they'd scavenged from nearby houses, old coins, and shells from the nearby beach.

A pixie fluttered down on sparkling wings when it saw Yore approach and landed on his back, burrowing its tiny body through his fur.

Once thoroughly covered in his scent, it fluttered off to let Yore's grandmother know he'd arrived.

Yore continued down the street to where Old Man Frog sat on his front porch, his fat, greenish brown body slumped in a chair that was too big for his short stature.

A brown, brimmed hat clearly made for a human sat atop his too-big head.

He had long toes and webbed feet but his hands were humanlike enough to grip a long cane that rested across his thighs.

Yore took the opportunity to shift for what he hoped was the last time that day, his whole body popping and cracking.

Straightening his spine as he stood up on two legs made him draw in an involuntary breath through his teeth.

It was a few moments before he dared move but the delay didn't make it hurt any less.

He made himself stretch, easing out the sharpest of the pain.

He gave Old Man Frog a nod and got nothing but a blank stare from his large, slit eyes in response but that was normal.

Yore had played in this neighbourhood as a pup and never seen Old Man Frog do anything but sit in his chair and watch the world go by but someone was maintaining the house and Yore assumed it was him.

Yore kept some clothes in the shed in the backyard of the house so that he could avoid shifting in front of anyone at The Capital and they had never been disturbed, so he liked to think he and Old Man Frog were on good terms.

After Jasper had come into their lives, Yore had started to wonder all the more about the origins of creatures like Old Man Frog.

There was clearly some human in him.

Did he remember the life that part of him had lived?

Had he lived in this house, worn that hat and carried that cane?

Had he had a family?

Was he the only one of his kind, like Jasper or were there others?

Or perhaps Old Man Frog had never been human even in part.

Perhaps, like Yore, he had been born into what he was.

Yore dressed in the clothes from the shed and continued on down the road.

These houses weren't abandoned in the same way that many in Lainton still were.

They were run down, collapsing and certainly not inhabited by humans but Yore had thoroughly explored this neighbourhood as a child.

He had sniffed around every dilapidated house and then shifted and climbed in through windows to investigate further.

Everywhere he'd looked, he'd found life.

Some of the local pixies made their homes here, of course but there were endless curiosities if you looked close enough.

Yore could smell the sea air by now and see the shimmering, light blue point of the spire through the trees.

It truly put the boxy grey and brown remains of human civilisation to shame.

Even after seeing it so many times before, Yore still had to stop and just look at it for a moment as it came into full view.

No amount of technology, of architectural knowledge, could produce something like that.

It spiraled up around itself, its external structure made mostly of glass that had been smelted from sand in the bellies of the pixies.

One by one they had added to it, thousands of tiny workers contributing to something so much bigger than themselves.

This was what Yore believed in.

The pixies lacked speech and were considered by many to be simple minded but at some point it was decided that they should be protected.

Maybe, at the time, it was merely out of pity or perhaps someone with the right kind of power had thought they were pretty.

Whatever the case, they soon proved that they could more than pay their debts.

Things always seemed to work out better when you made the choice to be kind, in Yore's experience.

The area directly around the spire was full of new housing and markets and, beyond all that, the docks.

There were certainly larger, more populous settlements but what made this one stand out was its diversity.

Each major group, be they werewolves, centaurs, dwarfs or anyone else who lived in the area, had a representative who lived in the spire.

For the werewolves, this was Yore's grandmother and would hopefully one day be him.

It was hard to imagine living here but he didn't hate the idea.

It didn't feel like home but at least his time here was never boring.

[lookforthefuture49]

Yo!

I got a fanfiction, finally. I don't expect it to be read much here, but here are the links to fanfiction.net and Ao3 pages for it respectively:

Ao3

Fanfiction.net

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13947355/1/Universal-Wars-aren-t-fun

Ok now I can paste it.

Enjoy <3

[Note: this story is only to be on Archive of Our Own/Fanfiction.net under the username DoubleKKookie and on Tumblr under the username Retrooutlaw. IF YOU SEE IT ANYWHERE ELSE, PLEASE SHOOT ME A PM! This is also kinda meant for funsies, obviously.]

Note note: half created by AI Dungeon. Yay for Ai Generated fanfiction lol

[Universal wars aren't fun//1//Battlegrounds]

Izuku's hair ruffled in the wind, the view of a crumbling city crossing his vision. It was odd, how one minute the world was peaceful, and the next an inter-dimensional war decided to happen. During this war of many universes, most of his world was ravaged. Izuku figured he would probably be safe, at least for now. His world might be a battleground, but he wasn't in the midst of the fight. He wouldn't hurt people from other worlds just because some of their worst villains wanted to attack other places. In fact, Izuku just wanted an excuse to help these new people, to stop their worlds from being ruined too. His plan was to travel between the worlds.

Except, all he got was a dazed sense of incompleteness as the world around him seemed to flicker. For a moment, it seemed as if he were home again visiting his mother over a break, excited to see what his friends did. He could feel a couple of tears form, but of happiness, of joy. However, just as quickly as this flicker came, it left, and he came to the realization he was just remembering the past, that he was still alone in the forest, and that seemed to worsen his sad state.

Izuku turned and took a few steps. He had to get moving, and he had to get moving now. He didn't quite know where he was going, but he knew it was far from his home. All he knew was that he had to keep moving, and find a new reason to fight. So, Izuku decided to just keep walking. He made his way through the forest, dodging branches and occasional bokoblins.

Bokoblins were odd, as he'd never seen them before the inter-universal war began. They hadn't even kinda existed in his world, but now he felt like he was fending the creatures off every other step. He never attacked them, but it seemed like he was constantly running from them, even if they were obviously weak.

This rural area he'd found himself in looked to be nearly untouched by the war. Still, there was this odd sense of unease, and Izuku felt like he was being watched. Like he was being watched every step of the way.

Fearful of this feeling of a watchful eye burning a hole into his back, he began to speed up, getting to the point of running. Running as far as he could, as fast as he could.

The more he ran, the faster he felt himself becoming. He couldn't tell what time of day it was, but he knew that it had to be night.

He ran for what felt like an eternity before stopping, legs buckling under him

He fell to the ground, trying not to cry out. He stood back up, deciding if he was going to be upset about a stupid war, he was gonna do it where it was safe, so he stumbled away from the wide open area he was in, and eventually found a flat-topped building, which he entered before reaching the roof and staring out at the more rural area he had found himself in. What modern building were there, such as this one, were overrun with vines and ivy.

He sat down on the roof and wrapped his arms around his knees, finally letting everything soak in. This situation was garbage. He'd been left behind by the civilians who escaped, he had no idea where his friends were, and he had no way of contacting any heroes or any of his peers to come to his aid.

Izuku didn't want to think about the possibility that they were all dead, but looking at the modern buildings being overtaken like this one, he couldn't help but think such a thing. If the entire town was this destroyed, how on earth could THEY be ok?

He didn't understand how something so bad could happen. How the world could ever go back to normal after what was happening right now, Izuku didn't know. But, all he could do now was try to help, and help he would. The moment he saw a portal open, it was his door to purpose, to other people, whoever they were.

He didn't care what world he stepped into. He didn't care if he died, he just wanted to make a difference. It was no longer about this world, about him, or any of the pro-heroes he once loved. Now, if it meant death, he'd stop this war. He decided right then and there he'd do it for his friends, for his family, for All Might, and for whoever he met on the other side of the portal he was adamant on finding.

He wouldn't fail. Lifting his arms from his legs, he rested his face against his knees and took a deep breath. He lifted his head up, staring to the sky.

"I promise, I'll save everyone. No matter what."

...

Izuku sat on that roof for several more minutes before deciding to resume his search. He stood up, left the roof, and began to walk again- until he heard something. Multiple people, a fair distance away behind him. Judging from what he was hearing of the conversation, they hadn't noticed him yet, and were rather focused on someone who sounded distressed and wanted to get away from them. He hid behind the building as the group of people came into sight, listening into their conversation closely.

"LET ME GO!" He heard peirce the air, and when he could see the group, he noted the man who yelled it was being dragged by the arms by two other people, and this man also looked.. unexplainably odd. His appearance didn't matter now, though. What was important was the predicament he was in.

"Would you just put me down already!?" He snapped again.

His supposed captors looked even angrier than they had initially.

"Our leader says that's not allowed, bucko." One of the two people holding him said. His voice was gruff and southern.

He had a goatee and his hair was slicked back. The other one was female, model-esque.

She had long, curly blonde hair, calm blue eyes and slick red lipstick, which was weird for someone to be wearing in this kind of situation.

"Our orders are very clear. Boss wants you."

"I DON'T KNOW WHO YOUR STUPID BOSS IS BUT I CAN ASSURE YOU-"

The southern-sounding captor pulled a lighter from his pocket, and with it lit, rammed it into the torso of the man. He let out a blood-curdling scream and then didn't say another word afterwards. he, nor his clothes, had caught on fire, oddly enough. The southern guy snarled at the man. Izuku wasn't entirely sure who was good or bad in this situation, but he was irked by the entire scene. The only hard part was deciphering if the one who was captured by these two was good or bad, as saving a villain in the midst of a crazy war would be pretty counter-productive. From the way this man's captors were talking, however, he figured he was either a hero like him, or just in the moral gray trying to stay out of things.

Taking a risk, he stepped out from the shadows...

"Stop!" He yelled at the top of his lungs. They turned to look at him, and their eyes went wide.

He pointed at the man. "You two! Release him right now!"

"What do you think you're doing?" The southern one hissed angrily. "This is none of your business, kid! Go back to where you came from!"

His eyes flicked to the man, who seemed to be either knocked out or unresponsive, as he hadn't even twitched when Izuku shouted in his general direction.

"I don't care! He's being mistreated! I won't stand for it!"

The model (At least, Izuku assumed she was a model) whisper-hissed something at her comrade, who just scowled and shook his head. The two started arguing in hushed voices, as the man they dragged here was now beginning to stir.

When he did open his eyes, fear was clear in them immediately, probably thinking the glare Izuku was directing at his enemies was for him. He calmed after a moment, however. The pair seemed bugged but opted to leave without the man now that they'd been found by someone else. (Maybe that's what they were arguing about) They dropped the man harshly, although he didn't seem to be bothered by this at all. He seemed more bothered by the burn mark just below his chest, which, while small, seemed to be quite painful. It was hard for Izuku to gauge what the man was feeling, though, since he looked dead. Not just figuratively, but quite literally rotten and dead. It was strange, but Izuku decided not to question it, for that wouldn't help either of their situations. He instead walked up to the man, hoping to maybe initiate a conversation.

"Hey, um..." Izuku wasn't really sure what to say to him. He didn't know his name, for one.

The other was that he looked like he'd been through hell and back. He had a multitude of scars, both old and new, on his face and body. They were either dark purple, black, or was a hole, which revealed an empty vessel underneath. In fact, his entire complexion was purple, which struck Izuku as off. Any normal person, quirk or not, definitely was not supposed to be dead and purple.

"Are you alright?" Izuku decided to start with. Simple enough.

"Yeah, I'm perfectly fine." (That comment definitely didn't pan out, but Izuku didn't know his life. Maybe this was normal.) Izuku noted a prominent British accent, one he hadn't noticed while the man was shouting angrily, which was odd, because he probably should have. Taking a closer look at him, the strange man was thin, mangy, and also lacked hair. His pupils were glowing, which also really was strange, and the whites of his eyes were now, instead, pitch black. It was somewhat unsettling, but Izuku tried not to think much of it.

"What was all that about?"

"Frankly, I dunno. One minute everything was normal and I was sitting at home, and the next those two were dragging me along to their 'boss'." He replied.

"I tried to get away, but it wasn't exactly easy. I kinda miss having muscles." He said this in a very nonchalant way, shrugging. Evidently, this man was missing vital body parts, who knows how many, and he was acting like it was completely fine.

"I... see," Izuku said, though he wasn't sure what else to say.

"So, what about you, kid? What's your name?"

"Izuku. Call me Deku, please." He stuck out a hand.

"Michael." The other shook his hand, and Izuku noted that he felt no bones in his hand, like it wasn't solid. It was strange, completely empty. "Uhm, do you know what's been going on lately?"

Michael did not reply immediately. "I dunno, something about some war? It didn't seem to pertain to me until I was dragged into a different world entirely, but feel free to explain."

"All I'm really sure of right now is that there is an Inter-Universal War going on right now, and I want it to end. Mostly because it's left my home a wreck, and I don't want that to happen to anybody else's."

Michael nodded in understanding.

"I can appreciate your feelings on the matter."

...

"How long have you been here?"

"Probably only a little over 2 hours."

Izuku had given Michael the choice to stick with him or go off on his own, and, not knowing what else to do, he agreed. Now they walked aimlessly as Izuku tried to explain a bit about what his world used to be like, and just make small talk. Izuku had decided the moment Michael agreed to tag along that he would not question his purple complexion or the lack of internal structure. It seemed like it might be rude, or bring back bad memories if he said the wrong thing, and he didn't want to cause that.

"I see."

They continued in silence for about an hour, before Michael spoke up again.

"I think I prefer this place over my home, truth be told."

Izuku was a little surprised that he would say something so out of nowhere. "Why?" He asked.

"I could go on for days about the terrible things that happened there." Michael sighed. "I don't particularly like dwelling on the past, so I tried to block it out. But here, it's all right. Even the atmosphere feels less oppressive, even if it's obviously still chaotic here."

Izuku frowned. "That's a pretty deep feeling to come up with so suddenly.

"I've had plenty of time to think, and this is the only conclusion I've come to."

...

The night took a long time to come, and Izuku still could find no portals, nor salvation in another world. He would have to wait another day. The pair sat down, and Izuku found himself falling asleep quite quickly...

It seemed like only seconds had passed when he felt something pulling him back to reality. He opened his eyes, and saw that the sky was beginning to turn pink.

"Get up." Michael whispered.

Izuku squinted, kind of annoyed. "Why?" He whispered back.

"I hear a large group of people coming, and I don't want to risk anything."

"Alright." Izuku nodded.

He stood up, as quietly as he could, and stretched, yawning. He was about to head off when he heard the sounds of many feet marching nearby. They were getting closer every second. He halted said stretching, and opted to climb up a tree. Michael made an attempt to hide, slipping behind a tree, but he was pretty easy to spot if one simply looked a little.

Izuku looked down at the group of men, as they marched by. His only question was why they were marching along together like this, and here of all things. They almost looked like soldiers, marching along with random weapons in hand. They were of varying species, although Izuku did not pay mind to this. When they passed and were far enough, Izuku leaped down and gestured for Michael to follow him as they tailed the group to see where they were going.

"What is this?" He hissed. They were headed towards a large open area. The group marched on, keeping pace, until they were they were the size of ants in distance. Izuku looked out to the open, treeless plains ahead. It took a minute to click in his mind, and he realized as Michael caught up what the plains were.

They were in the midst of a battlefield.

That's a wrap :D

[emachinescat]

That I Could Fear a Door

A Tales of Arcadia: Trollhunters Fan-Fiction

By @emachinescat

Summary: Jim had thought that going back home, back to the real world, would be an easy and painless process. He thought it would be simple - it should have been simple. It wasn’t. A reimagining of Jim’s return from the Darklands, where he quickly finds that adjusting to real life after so much trauma isn’t as easy as one might think. 

Words: 5,639

TW: PTSD, depression, panic attacks

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

Years I had been from home,

And now, before the door

I dared not open, lest a face

I never saw before …

I laughed a wooden laugh

That I could fear a door,

Who danger and the dead had faced,

But never quaked before.

- From "Home" by Emily Dickinson

Jim had thought that going back home, back to the real world, would be an easy and painless process. After all, during his weeks in the Darklands, first alone and searching the endless shadows, then hunted like an animal, then captured and beaten and forced to fight for the sport of others, hadn't he dreamed endlessly of just that? Of seeing the sun again, of seeing his friends, of hugging his mom, of cooking and eating and training and playing video games and slacking off on homework? He thought it would be simple - it should have been simple.

It wasn't.

The first few moments after crashing back into the over world were indeed euphoric. There was the sun, filtering in through the branches of the trees. It took all of his self-control not to stare straight into it. Even in the evening breeze, there was a warmth in the air that he hadn't felt in so long that it seemed more like a memory. He lay there, flat on his back in the grass, wishing he could feel the soft tickle of the blades on his skin, but trapped in his Eclipse armor. Still, he was free.

Much of the next hour was a blur. He later would recall a few hazy moments - hugging his friends, receiving the amulet from Blinky and finally - finally - shedding the stifling second skin of the Eclipse armor, trying to convince Nomura to stick around, Claire semi-joking about how bad he smelled, and the word free chasing itself around in his head like a dog after its own tail. Free, free, free!

He would always remember in perfect clarity the moment he hugged his mother again, but that hadn't come until later the next week. He wanted more than anything to go to her immediately upon his escape, but Toby and Claire convinced him otherwise.

"What's she going to think if you come home looking like … well, looking like… that?" Toby demanded, gesturing unhelpfully to Jim as a whole.

"And the smell…" Claire added, also unhelpfully.

"You have been through a great ordeal, Master Jim," Blinky reminded him gently. "If you go home now, there will be questions you cannot answer and not the rest you need."

And so Jim reluctantly agreed to go home in Toby's stead with Aaarrrgghh while Toby covered for him at home once more.

It was surreal, Jim found himself thinking as he stood in the Domzalski household's upstairs bathroom, shower already running hot behind him and Aaarrrgghh just across the hall, waiting for him in Toby's room. Just this morning, he had woken up in a cage on cold stone, in a state of perpetual, gnawing hunger that had become the norm, hanging on to the tiniest thread of hope that today might be the day he was finally rescued - but knowing deep down that it was much more likely to be the day he finally died. Now, he had a full stomach for the first time in nearly a month. He was with his friends, safe, electric lights warding off the darkness that had been his hell for so long. Hot water waited for him, beckoned for him. He could be warm and clean again. Just a few days ago he had said something about how much he missed soap. He should have been happy, he thought miserably. Maybe happy wasn't the right word. He was very happy to be away from the Darklands, from Gunmar and Dictatious and goblins and monsters. But he wasn't content.

He also couldn't bring himself to undress. He had been standing in front of the mirror for a good five minutes now, as steam billowed out from behind the curtain and fogged the glass, obscuring the face he'd barely recognized anyway. Good riddance, he thought half-madly, for the boy in the mirror was a warped doppelganger, touched by death and despair, with his sunken eyes, wan skin stretched too tight over abnormally prominent cheekbones, dark, puffy bags under his eyes, and a smattering of bruises and cuts pulling the whole package together with a sickly little bow. His hair was a bit longer than he usually kept it, matted and caked with dirt and blood. It felt crusty to the touch, and brittle somehow, as if it would crumble to dust if he tried to brush it.

He looked bad enough as it was from the neck up. He had no desire to see what awaited him beneath his filthy clothes. He wondered blearily how they had gotten so disgusting when they had been underneath his armor the whole time. Sweat and revoked shower privileges would do that to a person, he finally reasoned, and at once he found he couldn't get in the shower quickly enough.

He stripped off the offending garments with an urgency he hadn't felt even at his most desperate moments in the Darklands, nearly tripping over the edge of the tub in his haste to get in. He was relieved that the mirror had fogged, but he still avoided making eye contact with it just in case.

The water burned his skin, but he turned it hotter, attacking his hair first with nearly half a bottle of shampoo, applying and rinsing, applying and rinsing, until he couldn't see from the suds cascading down his face and the murky water ran clear. He conditioned once, something he'd never done before. He didn't know if it did anything, but it made him feel cleaner.

And then he was scrubbing himself all over, the water reddening the skin on his arms (he studiously avoided looking anywhere else), again and again, as if trying to peel his very skin off. Dirt and sweat and blood poured off of his battered body and he watched it meander toward the drain in a detached sort of way before resuming his frantic washing.

It wasn't until his skin was so raw that he felt like he was an onion peeled of its top few layers that he stopped, breathing heavily, exhaustion threatening to overwhelm him, nausea roiling as he regretted the deli sandwich he'd scarfed down earlier. Knees weak, he found himself sinking to the floor of the tub, knees drawn up awkwardly to his chest. The water pounded on his head, back, shoulders, and he let it, slipping into a kind of sleep-trance, watching the water swirl around his feet before making its relentless way to the drain. He thought of nothing, felt nothing, and only broke out of the haze when the water grew cold and panic lanced through him at the loss of warmth. He turned off the water, more tired than he could ever remember being in his life, somehow managed to stand up on wobbly legs, wearily slid back the shower curtain - and froze.

Since he'd been in the shower so long that the water had gone cold, the mirror had also de-fogged, and he found himself unwillingly confronted with the specter that he had been hoping to avoid - his reflection.

Before he'd been captured, he'd scavenged for food and found himself eating something mostly every day, so he'd been nourished but always hungry. After he'd been taken, however, any meals - and he used that word lightly - were few and far between. They'd fed him just enough to keep him alive. He could see now from his emaciated frame that they had still essentially starved him. He'd been Gunmar's prisoner for what felt like years, but it had to have been a week at most.

Still, close to a month without a reliable food source had done its work: He'd always been skinny, but now he could see, fully defined, every rib. Any muscle mass, lean though it might have been, that he'd gained during his training was gone, his arms weak and frail looking. His armor had protected him from extensive physical damage all the times that he had been beaten or tossed around like a soccer ball, but his whole torso was mottled with bruises of all colors, shapes, and sizes, all in different stages of healing. A good deal of them were centered over his ribs, and he winced as the pain that had been his constant companion flared up. He wondered vaguely if he needed to see a doctor. He wouldn't be surprised if Gunmar had cracked a few in one of his rages. He cast the thought aside - how would he explain the state he was in? - and turned abruptly from the horrible, somehow shameful image of his battered body and quickly dressed in the pair of pajamas Toby had let him borrow. They would have swallowed him whole on a normal day, but now they made him feel tiny and breakable and pathetic and weak, and he only kept them on because he hated the way he looked underneath even more.

He offered a simple "G'night," to Aaarrgghh before falling into Toby's bed, expecting to fall asleep the instant his head hit the pillow.

To his surprise, and to his irritation, sleep refused to come. He couldn't get comfortable. The bed was too soft, the blankets too warm, and the moonlight making its way in between the cracks in the curtains toyed with him, tickling his eyelids with the suggestion of light and making it impossible to fall asleep. There were none of the noises he'd come to grow accustomed to, either - no faint buzzing of the magically reinforced bars holding him in, no tromping footsteps of the guards, no click-clacking of goblin claws or snorts or whistled operas or snarls or distant, echoing screams…

In the end, Jim tossed and turned, sick with fatigue and enraged at how cruelly sleep evaded him. He finally, mercifully fell into a restless, nightmare-filled slumber around five in the morning, but even the worst of the dreams didn't wake him, exhausted as he was, and he was trapped back in the Darklands, suffering torture after torture at Gunmar's hands, until he woke again eighteen hours later, on a cot in Troll Market.

He had been moved there at dusk the next day when his coma-like slumber pressed on and his friends, who had not realized the extent of his injuries or exhaustion, grew worried. Vendel had examined him while he slept, expertly bound ribs that had indeed been cracked, and performed all the healing rituals and magic he knew to be safe for a human. Even so, he'd warned Jim, who felt numb and wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep, it would be a week before he could even begin to regain his strength and pass as his old self, and longer for him to truly be back to the same physical shape he had been in before he'd gone to the Darklands.

And so Jim stayed in Troll Market, under Vendel's care, for another eight days, while Toby got to put on a magical mask and pretend to be him and have his life and hug his mom. Jim tried not to be bitter about it, but it was hard. Blinky and Aaarrrgghh spent all their spare time with him, and Claire and Toby came to Troll Market after school every day and kept him company until they were expected home. Jim talked to them, laughed hollowly, took the homework they gave him, and then retreated within himself as soon as they had disappeared out of sight.

It will be better soon, he kept telling himself desperately. I just need to get out of Troll Market, go back home, get back to my normal life. Once I'm feeling better and things are back to the way they were, it will be like I never left.

Once again, he was very wrong.

***

In the weeks that followed his re-emergence into his real life, Jim discovered very quickly that the life he had left was either very different than he had remembered it to be, or that he himself was very different than he had once been. He supposed both might be a little true.

Being in his mother's embrace was the only thing that felt completely safe and normal after his return. He didn't care that she had just grounded him; when he finally saw her again, he hugged harder and longer than he could ever remember doing, and he had felt better, more like himself, until he'd tried to go to sleep that night and the cold returned. The next morning, he had attempted to do his usual routine like nothing had ever happened, but even that familiar motion felt hollow and the smile he flashed his mom before leaving for school barely concealed the emptiness just beneath the surface.

Other than that first hug, everything else around him, including his friends, school, good food, trolls, even his mom - all things he had coveted during his time in the Darklands - were strange and foreign to him.

Claire and Toby, though they did their best to be understanding and supportive, were obviously thrown off by his sudden mood swings and sullen attitude. They seemed distant and somehow unfamiliar, and Jim found himself feeling awkward around them, unable to figure out what to talk about or why he should laugh at the joke Toby had just made. Didn't they understand that none of this really mattered? There was so much darkness and pain and fear just beneath the skin of this world, and if they scratched the surface just a little too deeply, it could break loose and destroy them all. So he did what he could to avoid these awkward moments all together, and barely noticed the hurt and disappointment blooming in their eyes as he shut them out and walked away.

He'd thought school would be a great return to normalcy, but everything about it grated on his nerves. Even the cheers as he returned to campus - Congrats on beating Jim Lake Disease! - made him feel claustrophobic. He barely held it together anytime Steve cornered him, his heart racing madly in his chest like it wanted to escape, with or without him. The teachers were demanding, the sound of the lockers made his head ache and reminded him too much of the sound of a cage door slamming shut, and once, when Coach had grabbed his arm to show the class proper movement for a volleyball serve, raw, animal fear had overtaken him, and he'd flipped the teacher onto his back and scurried, terrified, under the bleachers. He barely remembered it, except for the pain in his chest, the short, insufficient puffs of breath, and Claire finally coaxing him out after class dismissed and herding him to the nurse. It was a panic attack, she'd said, eyeing him with concern, and had he had any drastic life changes, any unusual stressors? He lied, because he couldn't do anything else, and she told him to consider seeing a counselor anyway.

"Maybe the nurse is right," Claire said on their way to Troll Market that evening. "You're obviously struggling with this. Maybe you should go to counseling, or something." Her voice was soft and soothing, like she was talking to a wounded beast. Perhaps she was.

Jim laughed, a harsh, cold sound that stopped his best friends in their tracks. "Oh, sure, I'll just do that," he said sarcastically, hating himself as the bitterness dripped from his lips like an overflowing witch's brew but unable to stop the words or the emotions that spawned them. "I'm sure there's plenty of shrinks out there that can help me with my troll-induced trauma."

One of the things he'd missed the most was food - good food, not soupy nightmare-creature eggs or slimy soup made from monster meat that was probably not good for humans but that he had scarfed down on the rare occasion that Gunmar had deigned to feed him. Now, he ate because it was expected of him, but he barely tasted the food. Even his favorite recipes were like ash in his mouth, and cooking didn't bring him the pleasure it once had.

If Claire and Toby were baffled by his behavior, their confusion was nothing compared to that of Blinky and Aaarrrgghh, his two closest friends and trainers in Troll Market. Blinky had fretted on more than one occasion that perhaps they had brought home a changeling Jim somehow, not the real one. After all, Jim Lake, Jr. was kind and funny and fun to be around, and this new Jim was brooding and dull and never truly present. Jim saw the worry in Blinky's six eyes and in the anxious set of Aaarrrgghh's jaw, and it saddened him - just not enough to shake him from the waking hell his life had become. Training was a monotonous routine as he gradually built his strength back up, and even Draal, perhaps the least emotionally-inclined of the trolls save for Vendel, found himself hesitantly asking the young Trollhunter if he was okay, if there was anything he needed that might help him feel better. Jim gave him a half-hearted smile, truly touched, but said no. He wasn't sure anything could fix this hole that had been drilled inside of him. It was too dark, too empty, and it hurt too damn much.

His mom had noticed a difference in him too, but she was at a complete loss. Jim tried his hardest to be his old self when he was with her, and being in her company did bring back a spark of his personality, but even so, he saw the concern in her bright blue eyes whenever she looked at him, and he'd seen her at school in conference with Seňor Uhl, and knew that she was trying to get any inkling of what was eating away at her son. Claire and Toby were no help to her, either, for after she had cornered them after school one day, demanding to know what had happened and why Jim was behaving so uncharacteristically, they had taken extra care to avoid her, unable to say or do anything to ease her worry.

***

And so this went on for nearly two weeks before Toby, Claire, Blinky, Aaarrrgghh, and Draal met up with the sole intention of finding a way to bring their friend back. He was suffering so much, and no one could truly understand what he had gone through.

"He clearly has signs of PTSD," Claire said heavily, clarifying for a befuddled Aaarrrgghh: "Post Traumatic Stress Disorder."

"This… order?" Aaarrrgghh drawled, eyes wide in concern.

"Disorder, big guy," Toby corrected, heaving a weary sigh. "It means he's been through something traumatic, and he can't deal with it."

"Well, how do humans usually deal with their trauma and stress?" Blinky asked, always straight to business.

Claire and Toby exchanged knowing glances. "Most of the time, we don't. We just avoid it all together," Claire admitted. "But when someone has been through something like Jim has - extended periods of isolation, being a prisoner, abuse - it's not enough to pretend it doesn't exist." A tear rolled down her cheek and she brushed it away with the heel of her hand angrily. "I knew he'd be in bad shape when he came back," she admitted. "But he was so happy to see us when we rescued him that I thought that maybe he would be okay."

"What do humans do if they cannot ignore this trah-mah?" Draal enunciated the unfamiliar word. It was quite endearing to see such a hulk of a beast with so much concern in his dark eyes.

"Usually, they see a therapist," Toby supplied.

Aaarrrgghh frowned. "There - I - pissed?"

Toby snorted in almost manic laughter. "Therapist," he repeated, still chuckling. "A person who goes to school to know how to help people with their problems and stuff."

"Well," Blinky said, a new light in his eyes, "we shall venture forth and find Master Jim one of these therapists! Then he'll be back to his old self in no time!" He noticed the dubious expressions on the humans' faces. "What? Are the therapists extinct?"

"No," Claire replied. "But Jim was right - he can't talk to anyone but us about what has happened, and he obviously has no interest in talking to us!"

"Yeah," Toby chimed in, "if he went up to a shrink and told them that he had been stranded in a dark, forbidden hellscape searching for a lost child and then was the prisoner of a crazy troll that wants to escape his eternal prison and conquer the overworld… he'd be thrown in the loony bin for sure."

"So it's hopeless." Blinky's arms fell limp at his sides. "We can do nothing to help Master Jim escape the clutches of PDSC." Neither Toby nor Claire bothered to correct him. Blinky continued, "Is there anything else that might help Master Jim? Anyone else that he might talk to that would not throw him in this 'loony bin'?"

Claire opened her mouth to say no, but shut it abruptly, the light of an idea sparking in her eyes. "Actually," she said, the hint of a real smile making an appearance for the first time in a very long time, "I think I have an idea." When six pairs of eyes locked onto her hopefully, she added, "And it might even be a good one!"

***

When Jim got home from school two days after the secret meeting between his friends he was surprised to hear someone bustling about in the kitchen when he opened the front door. His mom worked late on Tuesdays, and anyway, her car wasn't in the drive. He reached his hand into his bag, paranoia growing, and his fingertips had just brushed the curve of his amulet when a tall Asian woman wearing a smart pantsuit limped into sight. His bag fell to the floor.

"Nomura?"

It was odd seeing her in her human form; after spending so much time around her changeling form in the Darklands, he had forgotten that she was quite pretty as a human. "Hello, Little Gynt." Her voice was also much less grating in this shape, but he found he didn't like the softer tones as much anymore.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, picking his bag up and hanging it on the stair rail, though he closed his hand around the amulet first, clutching it tightly in one fist. It wasn't that he didn't trust Nomura - she had proven herself to be a loyal, if reluctant friend - but because he had come to associate her presence in general with danger. If she noticed his cautionary measure, she didn't mention it. "I thought you left," he added as an afterthought.

"I did, but I came back," she replied vaguely. A stab of annoyance shot through Jim, and even the negative emotion came as a relief - he had felt nothing but fear and numbness since returning home. The change was nice, even if it was fleeting.

"Why?" His eyes narrowed. "Don't tell me you were worried about me?"

She studied him with dark, serious eyes for a long moment. "I don't worry about anyone," she finally responded.

Jim felt a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth. She said this, but he could see beneath the surface now. Their time as prisoners of Gunmar had shown him that there was much more to the changeling than met the eye. He waited for the consuming awkwardness that always set in when he was around his friends to descend, but to his surprise, he continued to feel relatively comfortable around Nomura, more at home than he had in a long while.

"Shouldn't you be in a wheelchair or on crutches or something?" he asked, gesturing to her legs. Normally she wore dresses, so he could only assume that the legs of the pantsuit hid some spectacular bruises. "I thought your legs were really hurt."

"They were broken," she agreed. "But my kind heals quickly." She moved forward slowly, then sat on the couch. "They still need a bit of rest to recover fully, though."

Jim sat down across from her in an armchair. "I can't remember if I ever said - thank you, for believing me, for helping me escape." He paused, eyes on his fidgeting hands in his lap. "For being kind."

"Well, I'm more than just a pretty face," Nomura said, and it was impossible to tell if she were joking or not. After a companionable silence, she asked, "So how have you been holding up, Little Gynt?"

Jim didn't know what it was about her, but something made him want to tell Nomura about sleepless night after sleepless night, about the nightmares that plagued him whenever he finally collapsed from exhaustion, about the cavern that had been dug seemingly overnight between himself and his friends, about how he either felt nothing or everything at every moment, about how loud footsteps made him anxious and how physical touch - except hugs from his mom - made him want to wither into himself or run away screaming, about how he had had all these expectations about what life would be like on the other side of Killahead Bridge, and how none of them had come through. He gave her a weak smile, and said, "I'm fine."

An undefinable expression flitted across the changeling's features. "Yeah, kid," she said finally. "I'm fine, too."

***

After that, Jim came home on Tuesdays and Thursdays, his mom's late days, expecting Nomura to be there, because she always was. Sometimes they'd have a cup of tea and sit in silence. Often they'd talk about mundane things - Jim would talk to her about school and his mom, and Nomura would talk about anything from opera to history to art to the strange old man who had flirted with her at the laundry mat Sunday night.

These visits, as ordinary as they were considering she was a changeling and he the Trollhunter, slowly seemed to draw more of the old Jim back out into the light. Talking to Nomura was different than talking with his friends; perhaps it was because she had been there with him in the Darklands, had suffered alongside him at the hand of Gunmar. And the more he talked to Nomura, the easier it was to talk to his friends, too. Slowly, the cavern that had been dug between him and his friends, troll and human alike, began to shrink, and he laughed aloud at a stupid pun Toby made at lunch, and he didn't retreat into himself every time a locker slammed. Still, there was a barrier between himself and his real life, the one he wanted back more than he could express but that was always just out of reach.

He found himself actually complaining to Nomura about this three Tuesdays after he had first found her waiting for him in his home. "Toby spent weeks wearing a magical mask and pretending to be me and to have my life," he said. "Sometimes I just wish that I could put that mask on and be me again too."

Nomura was quiet for several seconds, and then she told a story that seemed to be very much off topic: "When I was a child, I was told stories of the human world. It was a wonderful place, full of light and life and the sun…"

"What does this have to do with-?"

"Shut up and let me talk." When Nomura told you to do something, you did it or risked life and limb. So Jim wisely shut up and let her continue. "I grew up longing to go to that world, to see the sun and to feel the warmth and the light. The surface world was a fairy tale, and I was a little girl who grew up in the dark. Nothing else could have spoken to me more.

"But when I was finally given my chance to come into the world, to take the place of a little Asian-American girl named Zelda Namura, I was separated from my parents and my home, all alone in a world I did not understand, and it didn't matter how much I had dreamed of the sun, it wasn't what I had expected at all.

"Adjusting was… difficult. It was not until the human body I had replaced had grown older and was taken by her family to the opera that I found something that connected me to this world, something to enjoy, something of beauty. But it wasn't until I met another one like me, here in Arcadia, while under the employ of Bular, that I truly felt at home."

"Mr. Strickler," Jim realized.

"Yes. There's something very special about talking with someone - even if it's someone you're not crazy about - that understands you, where you've come from, and what you've been through."

"Is that the moral of this story?" Jim asked, partially touched, partially exasperated. "Are you trying to tell me that talking to you is going to make all of this go away because we've been through the same thing?"

Nomura shrugged. "Who knows? I just think it's a good story. You can take what you want from it."

Jim smiled.

And then everything, like water pushing relentlessly at a weakening dam, broke.

***

Jim could never remember crying the way that he did that evening. He didn't think he was sad, exactly, or hurt, or even angry anymore - he was just exhausted and overwhelmed with everything that he had gone through but kept to himself. The fear and humiliation of his capture, the paranoia that his friends were never going to trust him after he betrayed their them and went to look for Enrique without them, anxiety about Gunmar and the paralyzing horror every time he wondered if there was any way he could have followed them out of the Darklands, how he was having trouble connecting with the world he'd always known, the sleepless nights, the nightmares, the numbness and terror that followed him interchangeably, the way that every touch to his arms sent him back to his prison, being dragged painfully between two trolls strong enough to rip him in half with one swift yank…

He talked and cried and had no fewer than two panic attacks, and Nomura just sat there quietly all the while, watching with an unreadable cocktail of emotions in her eyes. When he had finally quieted, his heart feeling both emptier and lighter than it had since before he had made his journey to the Darklands, she simply handed him a packet of tissues she had packed in her purse and asked, "Better?"

He offered her a sniffle and a watery smile, unable to speak anymore, too stunned to fully process what had just happened. She stayed by his side, just being there, until his mom's headlights shone through the blinds. She would climb out the bathroom window and into the night.

Jim slept peacefully that night. If he had bad dreams, he didn't remember them.

***

It was a slow process, even after the cathartic conversation with Nomura. Jim slowly found himself acclimating more and more to his old life, with friends, school, home life, and even troll hunting becoming things to look forward to rather than dread. Loud noises and unexpected touch still startled him, but he was able to ground himself more easily now. He fell into a routine very similar to the one he'd had before, what seemed like a lifetime ago.

Cracked ribs, bruises, and cuts healed much faster than emotional scars, but at least he knew, in time, he would be okay. He was acutely aware that nothing would ever be exactly the same as it had always been, though. What he had gone through was something no person, no teenager especially, should have to experience. And while he had entered the Darklands of his own volition, none of what had happened to him there was his fault (at least that's what they told him; it would take a long while to truly believe that himself, but that knowledge, like everything else, would come in time). He had been isolated in the dark, on the run, hunted, captured and held in deplorable conditions, starved and beaten, forced to fight for his life, and nearly broken beyond repair, but he had made it this far.

Things might never be as they were, but he could forge a new path from here. He could grow stronger, adapt, overcome, and prove to Gumnar, to his friends, to troll kind, and to himself that he was more than what had been done to him. He was more than pain and trauma and helplessness and fear and rage.

He was James Lake, Jr., Jim to his friends, the first ever human Trollhunter, the son of Barbara and student of Blinky, Little Gynt, and even, he supposed, Buttsnack. Some days he would only feel like some of these things. On bad days, he wouldn't feel like any of them.

But he wouldn't forget the truth. He wouldn't lose sight of who he was so completely, not again. And, if by some horrible twist of fate he did, he knew now that he had an odd but utterly complete assortment of friends - humans, trolls, and even a couple of changelings - who would help him fight his way out. Out of the Darklands. Out of the past and pain and dark recesses of his own mind.

And into, as cliche as he knew it was, the light.

[reddogcollar]

They're married so you can ship them now

This is it this is the idyllic ending. This is me being nice

First/Prev

The floorboards of Redmire Manor had always had a red tint to them.

The wood had been dark for as long as the Manor had stood.

It was just that, where Hector knelt, it seemed darker.

There was a line that he could trace, where the red tint seemed to have become more obvious. Just in the one spot.

A large spot, near the table.

It was bright red, dark at the edges. He realized he couldn't trace that line anymore. And that the edges were closing in. The red burned, he could almost hear a thump, as it was nearly swallowed entirely by fuzzy blackness.

His throat was tight.

He realized he'd stopped breathing, kneeling on the floor.

Pushing himself up, he couldn't conceal the gulp of air he took from his companion.

"Hector?" Drew asked, stepping forward. He'd stayed by the door when they first came in.

Hector doubted he'd noticed the discoloration in the floorboards. Glancing back down, it truly was subtle. It took him a moment to find the difference again.

"We should go outside." He said, not explaining or waiting for an answer before walking past.

Drew followed without question.

The gardens outside had been lovely the last time he'd seen them. Now without proper care, tree branches had grown in the way, several flowers hadn't grown back after the winter, and the path was obscured with plants growing in the way and fallen leaves.

He doubted that Vincent had even thought of continuing to pay the gardeners, and after he was gone, it must've simply fallen off the list of priorities.

In the grand scheme of things, when sacrifices need to be made, a garden is a small sacrifice. But still.

At least the stone benches hadn't managed to crumble.

He really didn't want to make Drew sit in the dirt.

"I should be happier, shouldn't I." Or anything at all. He should feel anything more than a dull sense of dread. Everything was over and he was home.

"There's no right answer to how you should feel right now." Drew said, his hand on Hector's shoulder.

It'd been a month, and things like that had been ever present since.

He'd become accustomed to it.

"I could've been executed, or locked in a room for the rest of my life. I should be more relieved. And grateful."

It'd been charitable of Bergan to let Hector stay in Brackenholme while he collected himself. Even kinder that he'd allowed Drew to come with him to Redmire. It'd been charitable to even let him live.

"You've already said your thanks." Drew said.

Truthfully, too. He'd said thank you in every way he could, and then holed up in his room the rest of the time. He'd said he was getting everything together, which was true in part.

But it's hard to see more than one person at a time after a year of only seeing one person.

"Mm."

It was true that he'd said his thanks, repetitively, even, but how much did gratitude mean when he wasn't happy with the idea of being out in the world among people again? He wasn't even sure he was happy to still be alive.

Drew didn't respond immediately. This was something they'd talked about before.

In the end, he decided to change the subject.

"Are you going to stay here?" He asked, turning slightly so he was facing Hector.

Hector didn't answer right away, sitting up a little straighter and turning towards Drew.

When he'd thought about getting out over the year, he'd assumed he'd simply come back to Redmire. That'd it'd be easy, and he could move on with his life. That he wouldn't have to step out after only a few minutes of being inside.

"I don't know." He said, shrugging. "It's my home. I don't know if I can stay here, though. Not right now."

The air inside had been clear, and yet he'd found himself struggling to breath. He wasn't sure if it was a problem he could even fix. It'd been so long he couldn't even remember most of what had happened.

He should be able to go back. He should be able to move on with his life.

"Gretchen would let you stay with her in Hedgemoor." Drew suggested. The hand that had been on his shoulder was on his knee, now.

"Maybe."

It wasn't a bad idea, or untrue. But could he drag himself to Hedgemoor to ask for that?

Wasn't this something he'd need to figure out on his own? He'd already had a month to work this out. He should know by now.

He hadn't noticed he was pressed up against Drew's side until Drew was pulling away, rifling through a bag for something.

"I almost forgot, I have something for you." He said, pulling it out and sitting up again. Whatever it was, it was small.

He turned his hand over to reveal a brass boar.

The brooch he'd carried all around Lyssia.

"I thought I lost this." In Icegarden. When Vincent pinned it to Ringlin's breast and let him be torn apart.

He didn't take the brooch from Drew. He felt rooted in place.

"It was around the base of the tower. Bergan gave it to me." Drew explained.

Of course it was.

Lucas had ripped that man in half, and thrown him over the edge.

He wanted to say Ringlin was a good man. He'd become a trustworthy friend, while Hector was out stabbing everyone he'd ever known in the back. He was mortified by his death.

But he was a murderer and a thief. He wanted to say he'd been a good man, but he didn't know if he could.

"Wherever you end up, I'll go with you. If you'll have me." Drew said, breaking Hector's train of thought.

Still holding the brooch. It glinted in the sunlight.

He seemed to hear what Drew said a moment after he said it, forgetting the brooch entirely to look at him instead.

"I couldn't ask that of you. You already have everything you need in Brackenholme." He said, shaking his head. "There's hardly anything I could give you."

He'd ruined one man's life by asking him to follow him already, and even then he'd at least had money to give.

"You can have everything you need and still not have a home." Drew said, simply. "So, will you take it?"

It was hardly a question of if he would. He would love to. He would love not to have to spend a moment alone, only his thoughts as company.

But could he?

Could he take that offer when he had nothing to offer himself? Could he refuse it, knowing he may never get such a chance again?

How much was his own happiness worth?

The brass boar glinted in the sunlight, catching his attention.

He'd lost everything. When the brooch had gone over the edge, he was truly sure he'd lost everything.

His family, his friends, his safety, his stability, and then his only tie to home.

He was sure he was about to lose his life.

Now it was all being offered back to him, in a metal palm. It was hardly a question of if he would take it.

Placing his hand over the brooch, over Drew's hand, he nodded.

Everything was started to get a blurry again, as much as he willed it not to. Crying would probably ruin the moment.

"Thank you." He said.

Drew didn't seem to mind the tears, closing the White Fist around Hector's hand and pulling him into a tight hug.

Even when he pulled out of the hug, he didn't let go of Hector's hand.

He didn't want him to.

He could keep the White Fist closed, both of them holding that brooch forever if he wanted to. Hector wouldn't mind.

In direct sunlight, it almost shined like a star.

Eventually, though, Drew had to let go, leaving the brooch in Hector's hand, holding his face instead.

The metal was warm on his cheek.

Drew's lips were warmer.