#we see him don the red coat and the spiked hair every time he decides to step back into being vash the stampede

[aauroralightss]

i love trigun stampede as an adaptation and i always do my best to engage with it as its own piece of art vs. as a reflection of trigun maximum (bc imo that's setting it up for failure!!!) But it always baffles me when people try to act like stuff like vash or wolfwood's new designs aren't explicit changes to their characterisation haha

[vanchlo]

The Assistant / Chapter Thirty-Seven, “The Tables Have Turned”

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                                 SNEAKYYYYYY PEEEEEK

“At least I had my orientation with Harry to look forward to that coming Friday, but I still wouldn’t start at his firm for another week after that. The anticipation was killing me, and so were the little moments Harry and I shared when I happened to remember them. Sometimes I wish the alcohol had stolen those memories away, because they hurt too much to remember, but then at other times I’d never wish them away, because they give me something irreplaceable - hope.”

Music Inspo: Everywhere by Niall Horan (click to listen)

              “You think I like having you in here, destroying everything that was me until all that’s left is you and a dead shell? You're all I bloody think about ... dream about. You're in my gut ... my throat ... I'm drowning in you.” 

                        - Spike, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (S5 x E14)

“How’s yer dad doin’?” Harry asks me when I return to my seat across from him, the soda threatening to spill over the top of my cup.

“He’s doing good, thanks. It took a while for his energy to come back, and sometimes he gets tired easily, but it’s a process,” I answer, plucking a chip from the small white bag and drenching it in the yellow queso. “He’s pretty happy to have all of his hair back, and he’s started to get back into running and lifting weights. Late last summer he started back to work where he does construction.”

“Wow, I feel like I learn mo’ ‘bout yer dad e’ry time we talk ‘bout him. I didn’t know he was into weights and all that, good fer him. Bloody hell he’s like superman. Ya dunno how happy I am t’ hear he’s back on his feet, and doin’ well,” he murmurs with a gentle warmth adorning his features.

It spreads with a spark across my skin when I feel his fingers wrap around mine, squeezing my hand. I’m guilty again with an absence of words when I look back into his eyes, all syllables stolen away from me at the sight and by his gesture. I don’t need to say anything though because unspoken words pass between us as he stares back at me, memories unraveling from all of the times he showed up for me. I still don’t know how I could have ever doubted he cared about me.

“Thank you,” I reply emphatically, squeezing his toasty hand in return. His thumb brushes along the back of my hand before letting it go.

“Welcome, Becks. ‘m sorry I wasn’t there at tha end t’ celebrate,” he responds softly, sadness laced throughout his words as his head falls. His eyes avoid mine as he picks up a few pieces of shredded cheese that fell onto the wrapper laid in front of him.

“It’s okay, Harry, we both kinda forgot.” His head of curls goes up and down at my softly spoken words that only brush the surface. Regardless, I think that it did the job and he knows what I mean. We both know that we ignored the other and forgot, whether on accident or purpose. “I guess there are several reasons for our celebratory dinner and drinks.”

“Very true, bug,” he agrees, the dimples finding their way back onto his cheeks once again. The itchy nervousness abates when his eyes lift again to mine and he holds out his half-eaten taco, grease and warm sour cream dripping from it. “Cheers t’ yer dad’s recovery, catchin’ up with old friends, and tha best o’ all - Becks gettin’ tha associate position at me firm workin’ with me. ‘m excited t’ see what tha future holds for me new favourite lawyer.”

“Stop it, or else I’m going to start crying, and you’ve seen me cry more than enough,” I smile, blinking back the tears as I hold out my taco and bump it against his. “Cheers to new beginnings, Harry.”

“Cheers, Becks, and ‘s okay if ya cry. Happy tears are good too.”

“Very true,” I agree, taking a page from his book before I finish the rest of my taco, a silence falling over our table. It’s replaced with crinkling of wrappers, sips of soda, chewing of crunchy chips and chocolatey churros, and stolen glances at the other.

“How’re Skye and Robbie these days? What’re they up t’?” he inquires, squashing the wrapper of his third taco into a ball that he sets on the side of the tray for our trash. I watch as he plucks a quesadilla from the stack of dwindling food, but he stops and grabs a churro as well with a sly grin. “Hey, they’re fer me too.”

“Harry,” I warn teasingly, a giggle peeking out from my words which he quickly echos, although accidentally. “Um, they’re both good. Skye got a new job at a salon on the west side that she likes. It’s called Roots or something or other, and Robbie is still working at Black and Blue. He actually started dating a girl recently, but I’ve yet to meet her. God, it seems like everybody else is having luck with love, beside us. Myles told me he’s engaged now, and then Robbie’s girlfriend, and Skye said the other day she has a date this week.”

“Ya, we’re ratha pathetic, aren’t we? We haven’t even had any drinks yet and we’re gushin’ ‘bout bloody love,” he cracks, clucking his tongue before feeding the rest of the crisp churro between his rose lips. My oh my, is that a scenic sight right there.

“Yeah, you’re right about that,” I remark, finishing my second taco and grabbing the remaining quesadilla, earning a disapproving head shake from him.

As the flavors of the tangy sour cream, fiery seasoned chicken, and gooey cheese melt on my tongue, our words hit a sensitive spot in my heart. I just hope we can avoid it for the rest of the night, or else I’m afraid I might blurt out some words I’ve been itching to say.

+

“Hurry up, ‘s bloody cold,” Harry titters, digging his hands further into the pockets of his matte black coat.

“How far are we even going?”

“Oh, hush, you. ‘s not very far, jus’ anotha block,” he answers, his lengthy legs far ahead of mine.

“Harry, that’s what you said like five minutes ago, and slow the fuck down!”

“Hey, watch tha language, there’s no need t’ swear,” he remarks, meeting my eyes over his shoulder with his brows quirked into a V. When we arrive at a busy intersection, our feet stop on the sidewalk, and a muttered curse falls from his lips.

“Oh, so you can swear, but I can’t?” I quip, poking his arm playfully.

“Yes, li’l one, I can. ‘m not bein’ a very good role model fer ya, am I now?” he replies, a hand leaving his pocket to pat the top of my head covered in a knit hat. I respond with a roll of my eyes as his sly grin graces my eyes. “Are ya shrinkin’ on me, Becks?”

“Don’t.”

He only giggles, turning back to the onslaught of moving lights around us. I’ve always enjoyed the sights of London like this, the neon and fluorescent signs hugging every street, and the towering buildings. Harry mumbles a ‘c’mon’, tugging on my sleeve until I follow him across the crosswalk. Soon, we come upon a pub with a green neon sign donning the front, reading ‘Murphy’s’ that Harry pulls me into. His long legs lead me through the entryway, across red-tiled flooring, and to the long wooden bar where boisterous laughs sound.

“Can I have two Purple Haze martinis, please?” Harry says to the bartender, a tall fellow with an interesting red mustache that curls at its ends. He nods and turns around to grab two martini glasses.

“What are Purple Hazes, like is it something Prince liked to drink?” I ask Harry, falling onto the black bar stool beside him.

“I dunno, but you’ll like it. Jus’ trust me,” he smiles as he slides off his coat, and I admire the new view of his side profile. Something I haven’t seen in a long time. Seven months both does and doesn’t feel like forever, especially compared to that day I found him standing at the front of that lecture hall. Yesterday, when I turned around to find him standing in Myles’ office, it felt like it had been years. I blame it on all of the hurt. “‘Scuse me, can we also get two Skittles shots? Thanks.”

“So, now you’re my drinking mentor too, huh?”

“Pretty much, ya,” he smirks, balling his hand into a fist that he lays his cheek on to look at me. The smile winding its way along his lips under the dim lights drills a hole into the armor around my heart that’s cracking more and more. “And yer not doin’ that sissy thing ya do where ya have a glass o’ water on tha side.”

“Harry, I don’t want to be hungover tomorrow!”

“Becks, you’ll be fine! T’morrow’s a Saturday, anyways. What will it hurt?” he answers, shrugging his shoulders as the crinkles begin around his eyes. They almost disappear from my view when he looks to the bartender who sets the shots down in front of us, Harry mentioning adding it to his bill after thanking him. “Bottoms up, bug.”

“Oh, God,” I sigh, taking the greenish-yellow shotglass of liquid from his outstretched hand. “Stop looking at me that way.”

“What way?” he inquires with a furrowed brow, holding the shot close to his grinning lips.

“Like you know we’re about to get drunk.”

“Cheers,” is all he says, clinking his glass against mine before downing the liquid effortlessly. Shaking my head, I exhale loudly as the liquid nears my lips, and then it burns with hints of sweet and sour on the way down. “See, not so bad, was it?”

“Shut up,” I retort in the middle of a cough racking my chest, setting down the glass with a clunk.

“I have a question,” he announces after his giggling dissolves into the air. “Ya neva told me how you and Skye met, so how’d it happen?”

“You’re thinking about that right now?” I quip, carding a hand through my hair after I slip off my mauve-colored beanie. He shyly nods as he fidgets with a ring on his left hand, meeting my gaze only shortly. “We met in first grade. She was scary at first, because one day early on she got mad at me for stealing her friend, or something- I can’t remember. Then the next day, she came up to me and we were both wearing pink Hello Kitty shoes, and decided to be best friends. Like they say, the rest was history, and we were joined at the hip from then on. We were in the same class a lot throughout the following years, took the same electives in high school, and moved to London together to go to uni.”

“Sounds ratha picturesque, dontcha think? Or I s’pose that’s how it goes with five-year olds,” Harry murmurs, nodding to the bartender when he brings us the purple martinis. An awe leaves my lips when I see the ombre of purple hues filling the glass. “‘s vodka, Curacao, Black Raspberry Liqueur, and cranberry juice. I think you’ll like it. Go ‘head, try it, Becks.”

I obey and bring the chilly glass to my mouth, relaxing at the sweet taste of berries, filling me with the color purple. Then I wince at the harsh bite of the alcohol, eliciting a titter from Harry whose foot I kick with mine. Beside me, he gulps down a quarter of the drink, unfazed.

“How about you and Myles?”

“Good question, I dunno if ‘ve eva told ya that story,” he hums, tickling his stubbly chin with his fingers while thinking. Even the way the skin between his eyebrows disappears when he’s thinking is cute. God, everything about him is and I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep it to myself once all of this alcohol passes my lips. As another drink of the martini burns my throat, I think I may be warming up to that idea, but there’s the possibility it could all be for nothing if the alcohol steals our memories away.

“We met in high school inn’a class I can’t rememba tha name of, but we both hadd’a crush on tha same girl, and we both played guitar. So it was natural,” he mumbles, licking his lips and making me feel woozy all over at the sight.

“Sure, that’s a real natural friendship,” I giggle. “You know I’m a lightweight, by the way.”

“Oh I know, ‘m bettin’ onnit,” he returns with a wink, bringing the large glass to his bubblegum lips.

“You know what’s good?” I follow, watching his thick eyebrows hike up his forehead. “That Kinky stuff,” I respond, taking another sip. I almost choke on it when I glance at the shocked look screwing up his face.

“Becks.”

“No, God- t-the vodka, Harry . . . not that other stuff,” I chuckle, my entirety collapsing into nervous laughter. His own echoes mine as a prickly warmth spreads like fire across my body.

“My bloody God, Rebecca Holte, are ya already feelin’ that drink?” he hums, his bony knee knocking against mine underneath the table. The fiery nervousness abates briefly at the mention of my formal name, one I can’t recall the last time I’ve heard him say in its entirety. It comes as a shock to me, considering at times I’m convinced he’s forgotten it.  

“No, I-I just thought a liquor connoisseur such as yourself would know what I’m talking about.”

“Sure, I totally don’t believe you on that one, love,” he replies, scoffing when I softly hit his shoulder. “Yer prolly into handcuffs and gags, arentcha?”

“Harry Styles!” I exclaim, squirming when his hand covers my mouth. It falls within seconds, but the spicy vanilla smell coating his body remains with me, along with the warmth of his touch. Most of all, the familiarity and safety wrapped all in it causes a pang in my chest. “I do not do handcuffs, or bloody gags, and nor would I ever tell you, if I did.”

Words fleet his lips as he drowns them with another swallow of his violet martini. I turn away with my hair tickling my cheek as it shakes from side to side. It flies in front of my eyes when his fingers plunge into my sides, yanking laughs from my mouth as he lifts his eyebrows at me with a look that tells me to be quiet.

“I missed you,” I blurt out at random, feeling his fingers still on my side and his expression relaxes. The happiness falls from his eyes and cheeks, and with it I turn away, unable to deal with the disappointment I’m sure I’m on the verge of.

“I missed you too, y’know . . . loads,” Harry concurs, his fingers dangling at my side until they wander to my hands clasped in my lap. He steals one of them away and holds it against his leg, rubbing circles into my knuckles.

If this doesn’t make me spill the beans, then I’m positive the following liquor just may, and it all might come crashing down in front of me.

The next shot, a Lemon Drop, didn’t go down as smoothly. I felt like I was going to hack up a lung when I feel Harry’s warm hand on my back.

“Alright?” he murmurs in a rush, patting my back firmly until the cough subsides. “Sorry, that lemon one ‘s kinda hard sumtimes, ‘s ratha sour.”

“Ya think?” I respond, trying to make it go away with the last gulp of the Purple Haze, but it’s only a few seconds of relief.

I exhale and only feel his hand leave me when he orders a water, and two Tequila Sunrises, his a stronger one.

“Breathe, love, a water’s on ‘s way,” Harry hums, squeezing my arm. I nod and swallow hard, embarrassment coating me like a musty sheet.

“I thought you said no water.”

“Hush, I gotta take care o’ me li’l one,” he assures me, bringing a finger to his lips when I dare a look at him. A smile returns to my lips and remains there when the cold water graces them, him sipping at the Tequila Sunrise sat between his ringed fingers.

Oh, what I’d give to be able to wake up to a sunrise with him by my side. Oh, Harry.

“Hey, wha’s that ya got there?” he inquires, soon his painted nail lifting the bracelets from my right wrist. “Becks has a tattoo?! Since when?” he exclaims, astonishment and shock mixing into a cocktail amongst his features. His eyes bug out of his skull and then narrow when they return to my wrist.

“It’s a Queen Anne’s Lace, Robbie has one too, just on his upper arm and bigger. We got them when we were eighteen, um . . . . after our Gran passed. Grandma Holte . . Ann Holte,” I explain, helping him by removing the bracelets from around my wrist.

I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol or just him, but my wrist finds a new home in his palm that he turns to better look at. The shock is replaced by a slow smile transforming his face, bleeding into his eyes that find their way back to mine.

“‘s gorgeous, Becks, truly. ‘ve always found tattoos o’ flowers t’ be so beautiful, yer makin’ me want t’ get anotha one even mo’ now. I mean, I have tha rose and anotha sumwhere I think, but now I want anotha thanks t’ you,” he hums, tracing the ink with the tip of his thumb, just a whisper of his touch. “‘m sorry ‘bout yer Gran, sounded like it was premature which ‘s always tha worst. Knew ya were strong, but fook, ya amaze me e’ry day, Becks.” Unannounced tears press warmly at the back of my eyes as he admires the sprawling flower, tracing each little petal until he’s tracked them all.

“You didn’t think I was that badass, huh?”

“No, ‘ve always thought ya were a badass, babe. A flower tattoo jus’ takes the cake,” he quips, looking me in the eyes and sending another crack down the case in my chest.

I don’t know how many more little shocks like this I can take, or my heart, before it breaks free from the cage I locked it up in so long ago. I hid it there to protect it from him breaking it, again.

+

“This ‘s me,” he announces, bringing us to stop in the parking lot. My confusion only grows as I look around, until my eyes stop on the black Harley Davidson in front of us.

“What? It’s the middle of winter, Harry.”

“I know, I know. That’s what e’rybody says, but I dress warm. I like t’ take her out e’ry once in a while t’ keep her runnin’ good. Maybe ‘ll hafta take ya onn’a ride when ‘s not too cold fer pussy Becks,” he coos, voice rising to a mocking tone.

“I’m sorry I don’t like the cold wind ripping my skin off,” I titter and his eyes roll into the back of his head with a groan. I stand there awkwardly, eyes following him as he grabs the helmet from the locked bag towards the back seat.

“Ya sure yer good t’ drive, bug? I can give ya a ride if yer not too much o’ a puss puss,” Harry remarks, turning to face me as he holds the buckle strap to the side, a smirk claiming his face.

“Yeah I’m good, thanks. Those four waters and twenty trips to the bathroom helped,” I answer, although regretfully as everything inside of me screams at me to accept.

Girl, how dumb are you?

Quiet, demon, I can’t take it back now.

“Good, ‘m glad t’ hear that, love. I uh, reckon ‘ll see ya inn’a week then?” he replies, sliding the helmet over his dark curls, fingering the chin strap.

“Yeah, the eighteenth.”

“Don’t miss me too much now,” he jests from behind the lack of visor that he had pushed up and out of the way. Even with the bulky metallic gold helmet, he’s so goddamn sexy it’s unbelievable.

“As long as you don’t miss me too bad either.”

“Eh, ‘ll try not t’ but it’ll be hard,” he echoes jokingly, squishing his lips to the side with a thought and suddenly they collapse into a pout. Then, he winks at me as he settles onto his bike. “See ya inn’a week, Becks.”

“Bye, Harry. Have a good weekend, and careful driving.”

“You too, bug, drive safe. ‘ll talk t’ ya soon, gotta get tha recipe fer that Kinky Blue drink from ya,” he tells me, the bike rumbling to life when he twists the key in the ignition.

“Bye,” I exhale, taking one last look at him before I turn around. I put one foot in front of the other and walk away from him, my least favorite thing to do of all things on this planet.

From behind my steering wheel a few cars down, I watch in awe as he slides on gloves before toeing away the kickstand and pulling out of the lot, looking more handsome than ever.

Just when I think he can’t surprise me, he does just that, and in the best way possible. Every time.

+

“Care to explain where you’ve been all night, missy?”

“It’s not even eleven, Mom,” I respond with a firmness trying in my voice, but I can’t muster it as I slide off my boots. No, there’s not really any reason in the world that I could be upset right now, or feign anything other than utter happiness.

“I know, I can read a clock, Ree. Hey, what’s that big smile for? I never got to hear how your interview went yesterday.”

“Oh yeah,” I realize aloud, the words falling automatically as I hang up my coat in the closet by our front door. Boy, is that a lot to unpack and rehash, and yet I look forward to relaying it all to her. That way, I get to relive all of it a little bit, and I don’t mind if I do. “Well, you were out all night partying too, so you can’t be mad at me.”

“You got me there, I’m guilty. Or can I say that yet, Ms. Lawyer?” Skye responds, a lightness showing in her words. After closing the door to the closet, I find the anxious eagerness waiting in her eyes, bringing elation to the front of my mind as I nod.

“I got the job yesterday,” I barely am able to say before she crossed the room, surrounding me in a hug. “Harry called me when I got home from work and told me the good news!”

“Oh my god, Ree, that’s so amazing! I’m so happy for you, holy shit!” she exclaims, amazing me at her strength when she squeezes me with her noodle arms. “Was he happy to see you?!”

“Yeah, I think so, and fuck he looked so good, Skye. He hugged me the first second he saw me.”

“Aww, that’s so bloody cute. So, when do you start?”

Pulling away, I look her in the eyes and revel in the happy celebration coating me in waves again.

“Monday the twenty-eighth, but I have orientation with him next Friday.”

“Oooo, lucky you!” she smiles, and I swear my happiness about the whole thing has only doubled since she stopped being angry at me for applying.

“And I may or may not have just went out for those belated dinner and drinks with him tonight,” I reveal slowly yet eagerly, watching more shock paint her face and her jaw drops.

“Ree, you basically went out on a date with him, that’s my girl!”

“Skye, it wasn’t a date!” I protest feebly, because once again any of the negative emotions have no chance at outshining the wonderful positive ones right this second. “It was just to celebrate my new job, and to make up for the dinner we never had this summer, and the drinks he wanted to get for my birthday which also didn’t happen.”

“Wait, what?!” she almost explodes, nearly all of the emotions under the sun covering her face, if only for a few seconds at a time. “I thought you didn’t talk to him on your birthday?”

“Well yeah, I didn’t besides that one text,” I answer, and then I slowly see the realization shine in her eyes.

“You opened his presents?!” she shouts, coming to grab my arms as I giggle with a nod.

“Yeah, after I got home and right before he called. Talk about a lot of happy tears yesterday.”

“No wonder you weren’t answering my calls, and I don’t blame you, you were a busy girl. Busy with Harry,” Skye notes aloud, the same sunny emotions showing in her words, but they die down as she nears her finish. “I told you he still cared about you.”

“I know, you were right all along, and it kills me that I ever believed he didn’t. He got me a mini purple piano keyboard, a journal to write songs in, the first season of FRIENDS, and wrote me the sweetest birthday card. Then, he called right after to tell me I got the job, and fuck, it all seems like a dream sometimes. But then I called him at work today to set up the orientation, and he had the idea to get together tonight, and it’s all like a dream come true,” I tell her softly, and slowly it all doesn’t seem so fake anymore, but instead it feels just like the dream I’ve always wanted my life to become.

“Girl, you are so lucky,” Skye comments, dragging me by the hand over to the sofa where we fall with a thud, heads resting on the back cushion. “Did you kiss him tonight? Because God, Ree, you are both so in love with each other, I dunno how you haven’t kissed him already.”

“I don’t know,” I muse aloud, staring at the ceiling, but really all I can see is him smiling at me at the bar. His hand on my back when I was coughing, bringing my hand into his when we said we missed the other, and all of those feelings sitting in his eyes that I’m sure he could’ve seen in mine as well. “I think I’ll wait until I get settled at the job, because starting a new job is always the worst part and overwhelming enough as it is.”

“If you say so, Boops, but I figure that’s not too bad of an idea.”

“Yeah, guess why?” I counter, turning my head to face her, finding strands of purple hair sticking out of her messy bun. She looks back at me, confusion etched into the lines in her forehead. “He’s my mentor for the next few years and I’m his mentee, so I get to work with him every day and all day.”

“Ree, you should’ve led with that! Holy shit, why didn’t you?” she exclaims, swatting my arm in disbelief as I dissolve into a happy laugh. “That’s amazing! You get to work with him and under him, it sounds like a pretty good deal,” she chuckles, her laughing lips falling into a please smile.

“I know, I really can’t believe the last two days sometimes. I hit the jackpot, the Harry jackpot,” I giggle happily, relaxing against the sofa, trying to remember his spicy vanilla scent. If I try hard enough, I can smell it when his hand covered my mouth in a joke, and the warmth of his touch the few times our hands met. It wasn’t nearly enough times, though. “I have to work with Myles my entire second week though, because he’ll be in Scotland to try the case I’m helping him prep for my first week.”

“That’s shitty,” she grimaces, crossing her arms over her chest clad in a fuzzy blue bathrobe. “Just ask him out when he gets back then, it’d be too annoying starting to date while he’s away. If you didn’t, I’m pretty sure you’d die from missing him, Ree.”

“Fuck, I already might, I’m dreading it,” I sigh sadly, not even wanting to think about how pathetic I already feel not looking forward to that week.

“I know you are, but don’t. You have so much more to look forward to just in the next few weeks, and maybe you can sneak your second and third date in there, and a kiss perhaps.”

“Oh my God, Skye, shut up,” I retort, but it’s soon consumed by my laughter as she pulls me into her arms and her chin rests on my head.

“I’m so blooming happy for you, Ree. I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

“So have I, Skye, so fucking long,” I recall aloud, trying not to let the melancholy find me as I lose myself thinking about how ungodly perfect he looked tonight. And how I get to see that handsome face five days a week for the near future; talk about lucky. Talk about a dreamboat finally lifting its sail.

+

The next few days seemed as if they took twice as long, and the mild headache I woke up to on Saturday morning didn’t help. Although relaxing, the day dragged on and soon it was Sunday, with another long week ahead of me. At least I had my orientation with Harry to look forward to that coming Friday, but I still wouldn’t start at his firm for another week after that. The anticipation was killing me, and so were the little moments Harry and I shared when I happened to remember them. Sometimes I wish the alcohol had stolen those memories away because they hurt too much to remember, but then at other times I’d never wish them away, because they give me something irreplaceable - hope.

One of the many things they don’t tell you about becoming an adult is how music makes everything all the more tolerable, and exciting. Air Hostess by Busted fills one of my ears as I pass the aisle for boxed pasta, pasta sauces, and the like. On an endcap, I grab a box of fettuccine that I toss into my cart. Lifting my eyes, my legs move again and come across a figure that walks right out in front of me. Our metal carts bang against the other’s as a warmth tickles my insides, and my lips.

“God, Styles, you’re an awful driver,” I remark with a tsk, removing the earbuds to stuff into my pocket.

“Oh, hey, Becks. ‘m sorry I didn’t see ya there,” he comments, turning his tired green eyes to mine. He messes with the gray knit beanie covering most of his messy locks, and it suddenly makes me hyper aware of my godawful just-fell-out-of-bed appearance.

“No duh you didn’t,” I snicker, kneading the plastic sheath on the cart’s push bar. “Wow, nice Sunday Best, I’m impressed,” I tease, running my eyes over the baggy gray sweats covering his legs and the cream Abbey Road crewneck on his torso.

“You as well, Ms. Power Rangers,” he quips, nodding his head at my outfit that compares very much to his with black cheetah sweats, a hoodie, and beanie. “Which one was yer favourite since there was neva a purple one when we were li’l?”

“I know, I felt so ripped off by that,” I sigh, following him as he takes off and turns into the next aisle. “But I always loved the red power ranger, I don’t really know why.”

“Hmmm, interestin’ seein’ how he was always tha one in charge. D’ya have a thing fer bossy men or sumthin’, Becks?”

“Oh, shut up,” I laugh, tapping his bum with the front of my cart, earning evil eyes from him over his shoulder. “Who was your favorite Power Ranger, then?” I say, turning the tables to him. He comes to a stop in front of me, straying from his empty cart to grab a few cans of corn and peas.

“Green, I think. Can’t really rememba why,” he shrugs, placing the cans in the cart, soon returning to another section of shelves to pluck a large can of crushed tomatoes from it. “Which season was yer fav’?”

“Time Force, for sure.”

“Oh c’mon, Dino Force was far betta,” he scoffs disbelievingly, giving me another dirty look as he sets down the large can in his cart, crossing off something on the piece of blue paper he holds.

“Maybe you should be friends with my brother, seeing how you like all of the same stuff. The green Power Ranger was his favourite, and so was Dino Force,” I laugh, comparing two different brands of green beans, deciding on the cheaper one that I grab. My legs pass his cart and when I see him shrug his shoulders with a sly grin, I softly swat him on the arm, his name leaving me.

“Becks, ya betta watch it,” he giggles, catching my arm in his gentle grasp.

“Or what?”

“Don’t test me,” he warns, but the grin creasing his cheeks tells me otherwise, he’s harmless. I bump my shoulder against his after he lets go, but not without a tickle from him.

“Harry Styles,” I groan, grabbing a can of tuna from the shelf. His grin is wider when I turn around, rolling my eyes at him on my way back to my cart.

“Rebecca Holte,” he whines in a mocking voice, once again shocking me with his recollection of my name.

“Don’t, it sounds weird when you say my name like that.”

“It really does tho’,” he remarks agreeingly, words falling into a hearty laugh. I almost echo it until I spot the look on his face. Following his eyes to the shelves, I find his stuck to a display of Spaghettios. Some have meatballs in them, hotdogs, the pasta are in different shapes, and some cans are bigger than others. I’m not sure which one he’s looking at, but the absence of anything on his face whisks that question away. “Alright?” I ask softly, taking a few steps towards him, and he wakes back up when my hand touches his arm.

“Y-Ya,” he hums sadly, letting my fingers come around his forearm, almost as if I’m about to hook arms with him. God, I wish. “‘s been a while since ‘ve seen these, and even longa since I ate ‘em. I always used t’ eat ‘em at me granddad’s house with a piece o’ buttered bread,” he explains, nodding towards the arrangement.

“Oh, Harry,” I exhale, sadness bending my features as I squeeze his arm. He musters a forced laugh, carrying his eyes over to mine with apology held in them. “It’s almost been a year, hasn’t it?”

“Ya, this week. I can’t believe it,” he remarks softly, kneading his bottom lip between his thumb and pointer finger of his free right hand. “Almost think I should grab a can fer him, but I dunno if ‘d like ‘em now. I don’t wanna ruin that memory.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to buy it. You could buy or do something else to remember him, Harry.”

He nods beside me as I look up at him and watch the thoughts paint his face. It seems his face goes through every emotion within a minute - sadness, regret, confusion, frustration, grief, etc.

“Maybe get something you both like.”

“Ya, he loved those fudge-striped cookies, maybe I can find some o’ those instead,” he decides, tearing his eyes away from the lines of cans to meet mine. “Thanks . . Boops,” he smiles, that simple image calming the worrying of my heart.

I laugh and walk away from him, returning to my cart that I begin to push, but I find Harry’s in my way. With a playful groan, my lips part, “Come on, Harold, move it so we can go to the cookie aisle.”

“Hey, that’s not me name,” he responds, wrapping his bare fingers around the handle, giving me another glare over his shoulder.

“Well, neither is Rebecca, so don’t call me that.”

“But it ‘s actually yer name. Yer confusin’, y’know that?” he tuts, shaking his head as he looks straight ahead, moving down the aisle. “Hey, how’d ya eva come t’ be called ‘Boops’, anyways? I rememba Skye would call ya that sometimes when ‘d come ova.”

“God, I can’t believe you remember that nickname,” I groan, receiving a light chuckle from him ahead of me. On purpose, I bump the front of my cart against his bum again as he waits for somebody to pass.

“Becks- I mean, Rebecca, stop,” Harry says, turning halfway to meet my giggling eyes. One sits in his greens as well, but he only lets it show as a curling of one side of his mouth. “Ya I rememba, that’s all she called you. I think she did it on purpose.”

“Probably, knowing Skye she did it to bug me or embarrass me,” I comment, taking a right down the big aisle in between all of the smaller ones. Rows upon rows of cookies come before our eyes soon, along with baking supplies like flour, sugar, and chocolate chips. Dang, the amount of chocolate in this aisle is unreal, and somehow comforting. “My dad started it when I was a baby, or so I’ve been told. He’d tap my nose with his finger and it always made me laugh, I guess, so it stuck.”

“Aww, that’s adorable. Does he still boop yer nose when he calls ya that?”

“Sometimes,” I laugh, leaving my cart on the side as I pull out my phone, bringing up my shopping list. “So what are you all buying today?”

“That’s cute, y’know, and jus’ stockin’ up on some stuff. ‘m makin’ a pot pie t’night, so needed stuff fer that - carrots, an onion, celery, pie dough, broth, chicken, y’know,” he answers, bending down to squat so he can pull a pack of fudge stripes from the shelf. “Ah, here they are. I can’t rememba tha last time I had these eitha, but ‘m excited t’ try ‘em again, and think of Granddad when I have ‘em with a glass o’ milk.”

“Good idea,” I agree, patting him on the back as I tote a sack of flour in my other arm.

He finds me with his eyes over his shoulder, and those to-die-for dimples make an appearance again as his lips open with a smile, “Thanks, Boops,” he grins, tapping my nose with his finger. I want to tell him how original he’s being with that response, or the lack thereof, but the butterflies taking flight in my stomach consume all the bravery I had. “What’re you buyin’, hmm?”

“Same, just necessities.”

“Looks like yer bakin’ or sumthin’ with all that flour,” he comments, nodding to it as I set it down amongst the other items.

“Well, I’m going to make brownies, so yeah it’s a necessity, but that’s nothing new.”

“Ah, so Becks has become a baker, has she now?” he inquires, filling his arms with items up and down the aisle, because of course he is. I nod, joining him by a box of premade mixes, watching as he debates over which brownie mix to buy.

“I literally just said two seconds ago that I’m making homemade brownies, and you’re buying a box mix of them! Homemade is always better!” I exclaim, then groan with a disapproving shake of my head. “Harold.”

“Boops,” he returns, a smile winding its way up his cheeks covered in a light layer of dark facial hair. Now, that’s new, and what’s not to like? “I don’t mess with bakin’, so yes, ‘m buyin’ a box o’ premade. Unless ya’d like t’ make me some?” he suggests, wiggling his eyebrows at me with an idea forming inside of my head.

“Maybe if you stop calling me Boops and Rebecca, I will one time.”

“Noted,” he responds, winking at me as he replaces the box on the shelf.

“Good boy.”

He continues to smile at me, and quickly I remember what it’s like to stare into this sunlight, and how it’s not so bad sometimes. It’s quite wonderful, actually. The buzzing inside of my chest grows when his finger nears my face again, and then brushes under my eye.

“I like seein’ yer birthmark when ya don’t cover it up, ‘s pretty, Becks,” he hums, tracing his thumb over it, tickling my skin. A small ‘thanks’ drops from my lips at his words, and the buzzing only intensifies as he stares back at me. In that moment, I swear I could do it and I almost try to until he turns away. I attempt to find comfort in assuring myself that I don’t want our theoretical first kiss to be in the middle of the supermarket, lest anybody join us in this aisle. “I think that’s all I needed t’day.”

Thoughts are building into words on my tongue until the ringing of my phone interrupts my plans. This is definitely not all that I needed today, per say. Lifting it towards my face, I see my dad’s smiling face waiting for me, reminding me I haven’t spoken to him in days amidst everything going on. He’s already called a few times and I wasn’t able to answer, and he’s probably starting to grow concerned. I also really need to tell him about the new job. He’ll be so happy, and I can only imagine the suggestive things he’ll say about Harry. Oh boy.  

“I should take this,” I announce, bringing my eyes back to his. He nods as he arrives back in front of his cart. “It was nice to see you and only one of you,” I snicker, alluding to the far too many drinks we consumed the other night.

“You too, Becks, it was nice runnin’ into ya. ‘ll try not t’ crash carts with ya tha next time,” he returns with a warm smile, coming towards me as he pushes his cart. The next time? Can you please not tease me like this, Harry? I want all of the grocery shopping trips with you, even if they’re only like this where I can’t have my arm hooked through yours. Maybe one time we’ll only need one cart, just maybe. He lifts an arm and squeezes mine on his way down the aisle. “Take care, bug, ‘ll see ya Friday.”

“Bye, Harry. Careful driving that thing!” I call out, and this time he doesn’t give me a dirty look when he looks back at me. Instead, he sends me that blinding smile of his I love so damn much. “And, I’ll be thinking of you this week, I know it’ll be a hard one.”

“Thanks, bug, I appreciate it,” he returns, winking at me before turning back around and rounding the corner, just as I press Accept on my phone.

“Hi, Dad,” I say, waiting to hear my dad’s comforting voice.

“Hey, Boops. How’s my favourite girl?” he asks, the warmth in his voice providing me with happiness, and stealing it away at the same time. God, I miss him sometimes, I realize inside my thoughts. As I still stare down the aisle, I miss another man too.

It seems I’m always missing these two every second of every day, and one of Harry’s hugs that I wish I’d stolen a few seconds ago.

+

As the numbers climb in front of my eyes, the last few days flash before them. Somehow, I’m amazed when the number seventeen appears before my eyes in a bright red font. The last week has dragged on at times, thoughts of Harry and standing in this very lift occupying my every thought. Checking my watch, I’m glad to see I’m early, just like I had planned.

The gunmetal doors part in front of me and I’m rewarded with the sight of Seventeen in all of its glory. The buzzing returns in my chest, and so do the multitudes of butterflies in my gut as I look around. It does and doesn’t look the same as before, but it smells the same, and in some ways it sounds the same. The Cubiclers are gone and now more offices line the walls, and a certain somebody sits inside of one this very instant. The very same person I get to spend the entire day with, and it’s the first of oh so many. I take a long look around, admiring the gleaming tiled floors and the dark wooden walls, a new cream chandelier or two dotting the ceiling. God, that remodel must not have been cheap, I think silently, and soon wonder if a certain somebody’s father in construction had anything to do with it.

I almost expect to see him round one of the corners of the large floor dedicated to the firm, but I don’t, and I’m unsure of how I feel about it. It’s all washed away when I find the door I’ve been looking for, and it’s open.

“Hey, stranger,” I announce, leaning against the door frame with a cheeky grin plastered across my face. “Look at you with the fancy new office all to yourself.”

Their tousled head of sandy hair lifts from their computer screen, and I watch his eyes change almost entirely. My name falls from his lips as he stands up and crosses the room to me, enveloping me in a hug.

“What are you doing here? Does Harry know you’re here?”

“Yeah, he knows,” I smile against Asher’s shoulder, pulling away after a moment of being surrounded by his crisp cologne. “I work with him uh soon - I got the associate job, and he’s my mentor.”

Again, the look on his face changes in a blink, and astonishment paints him in stripes. A nervous laugh falls from his lips as he grips my shoulders and clucks his tongue in disbelief.

“You’re always good with the surprises, aren’t you?” Asher replies and I nod, waiting for him to say more. “Becky, t-this is what you want?”

“Yeah, it’s what I want. He’s already been so kind to me, and we’ve been talking a lot. He picked me over everybody else, Ash!” I respond, watching the words register with him as he nods the slightest. “I’m not going to let him get away this time.”

“As long as you’re happy, and he���s good to you,” he insists, pointing a stern finger at me dotted with shiny blonde hairs.

“Yes, he’s already being good to me, Ash. We went out for dinner and drinks that we meant to do this summer, and things are already looking up.”

“Good, good. That’s already progress, Becky,” he hums, and I mumble a brief agreement. “But still, what are you doing here now?”

“Oh, I have my orientation with him today, but I don’t start officially until the twenty-eighth, after I finish my job at the courts,” I reply, and he nods a little harder this time, biting on his thumb.

“I see, it’s all making some sense now, thank God. So, when are you going to ask him on a date?”

“Ash!” I exclaim, following him further into his plain looking office where he sits on the corner of his desk. He crosses his arms over the ochre button down showing a white t-shirt underneath. “It’s not even my first day of work yet!”

“So? You’re wasting precious time!” he argues, his loud chuckle soon stealing away his words. I groan as my eyes roll into the back of my head, soon pushing up the sleeve of my dark violet blazer to find my brown leather watch.

“Yeah, sitting here arguing with you,” I giggle, returning my eyes to his summer blues.

“No, you’re right, because you could be talking to him right now. You know, flirting with him and asking him on a date.”

“Ash, stop!” I laugh, turning to walk away, but I stop when I reach his door. “I like the new office by the way, I’m happy they finally made you head of I.T. I’m really happy for you,” I say softly pointing to the words on his door, hanging onto the handle as he meets my eyes softly.

“Thanks, Becky, I appreciate it. It was about time Bitchie Trishie retired anyways, fuck was she old.”

“Ditto,” I smile and he returns it right away. “I’m really happy to be back.”

“I’m happy you are too, and I’m sure Harry is as well. You should get going, you don’t want to make a bad uh, second impression,” he notes, shooing me away with his hand.

We say our goodbyes and I return to the hallway, straightening my unbuttoned blazer over my long slacks the same color for probably the twentieth time this morning. What feels like for the fiftieth time, I smooth down the chiffon black blouse tucked in underneath, hoping I ironed out every single wrinkle. Skye’s words from his morning when we said goodbye come back to me with a warm smile.

“Ree, if he doesn’t realize what he’s been missing the second he sees you in that outfit, I’m going to be very disappointed in him,” she mused, shaking her head with pursed lips and arms crossed over her chest as I laughed nervously.

My black pumps echo with every step I take on the immaculate floors, soon finding Amelia at the front desk who I wave at, not bothering to check in again. Asher’s comment and its ambiguity comes to mind as I take a right through the lobby. What did he mean that he’s sure Harry is happy I’m back, too? Since when do Asher and Harry talk, or when have they ever spoken to each other with more than three words? Does he know something that I don’t know?

I don’t get another second to think about it, because soon I turn down the hallway. His hallway. The nerves of anticipation and excitement come over me as a smile grows hastily on my lips. I’ve been waiting for this moment for longer than I think I know, probably months, or even years. It’s hard to believe that the last time I was in his office, it was two years ago. The thought appears with a sting when I remember the last time I was in his office, because of him walking in on Amber well, assaulting me. A moment that I ended when I walked away from him, and here I am walking back to him, and I couldn’t be happier.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

I see his door first, and how it’s ajar, letting a section of his office peek through. Then, I hear the Paul McCartney song escaping from his office, followed by his humming. The humming doesn’t match the song oddly enough, but it transports me back to the hospital in Madley when I was wrapped in his arms. It’s the same song he was humming then that I still can’t figure out. God, those kinds of things bug me.

I see him first, and I couldn’t be more grateful for that, because I get a few extra seconds to admire him. It allows me to remember the way he absently twirls a piece of hair around his finger when he’s lost in a thought, how he always crosses his legs at the ankles under his desk bobbing a foot to the music, and just how incredible he always manages to look in a suit. A pastel teal number hugs his trim body with a cream button up underneath, giving me a peek at his thick chest hair underneath. Oh, I could just eat him up. If only.

Swallowing, I take the time for a silent deep breath before rapping my knuckle against the cold glass of his door with nervous lips, “Good morning, boss.”

His head flies up and I think I’ve scared him almost, but the happiness that consumes his face is instantaneous and contagious as ever. It spreads across his flushed skin until my favorite little things about his smile appear before my eyes, making this all the more real. The perfect little curls falling over his forehead make it all the worse, and the better.

“Mornin’. Are ya ready t’ get started, Ms. Holte?”

“Yes, I’ve never been more ready,” I reply, the anxiousness abating as he stands from his chair.

“Great, then let’s get started with yer official orientation as a lawyer fer Styles and Lawson,” he announces, firmness playing in his words until they end with sunshine dancing across them, his footsteps finding their way to me. “Y’know, ‘ve been waitin’ a long time fer this day, Becks, too long.”

Me too, Harry. I’ve been waiting for what feels like forever for this new beginning.

[outlawqueenbey]

Finding Home - 7

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12166530/7/Finding-Home-Verse

It’s a bit hazy when she wakes up, but warm and comfy. Mal is definitely behind her breathing heavily in her sleep. How she got from the couch downstairs to her bed is uncertain. Henry possibly carried her? Or Mal and her magic. Either way she is grateful for the thick comforter hugging her body. It’s saturday, which means there is nothing to do but sleep in. Pancakes. She should make Henry pancakes. Does she have strawberries? He likes them with his breakfast, and freshly squeezed orange juice. She could do that for him.

“You awake?”  Mal’s voice ghosts around her as her body slides closer, wrapping around Regina’s midsection. She hums in response, curling tighter into her personal furnace. “I know you want to sleep, but I think you and Roland need to talk.” Regina stills, blinking her eyes open, she forgot he was here, how on earth could she have forgotten that. “He found your heart.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. That wasn’t supposed to happen. She wanted to explain to him everything before he saw the state of her badly bruised organ. “He just wants to know what happened Regina.” She blows out a guilty breath, nodding into her pillow, and perhaps today is going to be that day where she lets her wounds split open, and hopefully, oh god hopefully he understands. So much for a lazy weekend morning. Mal kisses her cheek, and Regina pushes the blanket off of her, swallows thickly and pads over to the bathroom, a hot shower definitely needed before this all goes down. She can hear Mal move from bed too, promising her a cup of coffee when she is ready.

Donning jeans, a green silk blouse and damp hair loosely hung about her shoulders she takes one last breath and heads down the stairs to where three voices are already awake. It’s jarring, walking into the kitchen and seeing Roland there, sitting with a cup of coffee in his palms, a grey henley long sleeve tucked into dark denim jeans, a checkered green and black button up hanging softly open, an ensemble that clearly came from Henry’s closet. Bless her boy and his pure heart of gold.

“Morning mom!” Henry turns, smiling brightly as a her mug he made her in the fourth grade extends out from his hands. She loves this mug. Cracks and all. Doesn’t have it in her to magically fix the little leak that beads where the clay yellow handle attaches to the not quite cylindrical cup. It’s bright blue, a shining orange sun painted on one side, a messy small handprint in red on the other. It’s beautiful to her.

Gratefully she takes the coffee from him, presses a kiss to his bedhead hair, and saddles into a stool beside Roland who is smiling at her. A quiet morning passing his lips, and it is perfect. This is perfect. Sitting with her boys over morning coffee.

They talk about nothing really, it’s mostly Henry that keeps the conversation going as Mal flips a pancake behind them, apparently Regina’s cooking skills aren’t needed. She listens to Henry explain his newest hardship at the school, the kids there aren’t being exactly attentive with christmas breakfast approaching. It’s becoming harder and harder for him to give a meaningful lesson about the ogre’s war when everyone is chattering away about vacation plans.

“Why don’t you just take them outside for a class?”  Roland questions behind his mug. Henry hums, chews on the suggestion for a second. “Like let them play outside instead of learning?”

“Not necessarily. But from what I know of the ogre’s war it extended through four winters, and soldiers had to fight in the snow. Maybe you could do like a reenactment of it or something?”

A smile breaks out on Regina’s older boy’s lips, as he pats his younger brother on the back. “That’s a great idea Ro! Thanks.”

“It’s nothing.”

“You know what, why don’t you come with me one day?”

“Why?” Roland stiffens confused. But Henry is Henry and chuckles through Roland’s sudden anxious questions. “Well they used swords, which I can kinda show them, but their main weapon against the ogres was a bow and arrow.”

“You want me to teach them to shoot an arrow?”

“I don’t know if the board would let me use actual arrows, but I’m sure we could fashion something less severe. What do you think?”

Regina watches from the side, flicking her gaze between a smiling hopeful Henry and the nervous twitch in Roland’s hands. “You’d be great at it.” She comments out quietly, shrugging her shoulders when Roland’s eyes widen at her interjection.

“I...uh...I’ll think about it.”

“Great! Let me know.”

Pancakes are served and they spend the rest of the morning with Maleficent regaling tales of her time through the ogre’s war. How there had been king after king begging her to help, for with a dragon on their side, surely no foe could stand a chance. Regina snickers beside Mal who is beyond smug at the reaction she gains from both Henry and Roland. The dragon seems to forget that Regina was there, had spent many a fire lit night in Maleficent’s castle as the woman badgered on about the fact she could take down the entire ogre’s army with a simple spout of flame, but the kings deemed her too dangerous to request her skills. She hadn’t set a single monster on fire, and the fact of the matter was beyond aggravating for the Dragon.

Regina stands, collects the plates and turns to the sink, letting their laughter hug her tight. In the middle of scrubbing a pan, Roland is suddenly beside her, looking out the window as he moves so they are shoulder to shoulder. He sighs heavy with a shake of his head. “Dad was the best at archery.” She smiles small at that, because it’s true, there was no arrow that could rival his own. He’d promised to teach Henry once Regina decided he was old enough to wield a bow….only to find out later they had already been practicing. The revelation on their guilty sheepish caught faces when she had starkly questions how her prized apple tree suddenly had cuts and marks in it. Robin had made it up to her later though, in many many ways.

“Yeah. He was incredible at it. Are you nervous about helping Henry?”

“I suppose. I am not as good as my dad was.”

“He’d be proud of you regardless I’m certain.”

Roland shrugs, a glassy look crossing his face as his eyes go hollow. “I’m not entirely sure of that.” His confession hits Regina like a ton of bricks as she drops the pan quietly into the sudsy sink of warm water and reaches for Roland’s hand, squeezing it gently as the bubbles run between their fingers. And he doesn’t even flinch at her touch. Squeezes back if anything.

Her heart thunders in her chest as she looks up at him. He’s grown so much. She just wishes she could have been there for him.

“We should talk.”

“Mal told you about me finding your heart?”

“She did. And I’d like to take some time with just us to explain to everything I can to you.”

He nods, “I’d like that. Can we go to his camp?”

She stills. Since Robin died she hasn’t stepped foot where the Merry Men once resided. Every single tree there reminds her of him, of their time together. But this isn’t about her and what she can or can’t face. This is about Roland, and if he feels comfortable there, well she will simply have to put her own anxiety to the side for a few hours.

“Of course we can.”

“Do you mind if I go alone first?”

“Not at all. I’ll meet you there at noon?”

“Sure.”

He leaves with one last squeeze to her palm and the moment she hears his footsteps fade and the front door close behind him, she lets her tears fill her eyes and fall into the cooling dish water.

“Are you alright?”

Mal steps in behind her, hands gently placed on her hips as she deposits a chaste kiss to Regina’s damp cheek. Wiping away her tears she nods, mumbling out I’m fine as she turns to burying herself into her Dragon. But Mal stops her before she can find safety. Tips her chin up and chuckles, “You have bubbles on your face.”

For all the nervousness that is firing up Regina’s spine, she laughs, let’s Mal wipe away the remnants of dish washing from her cheeks and leans into a kiss. “You’re doing the right thing Regina.”

“I hope so.”

.

..

…

..

.

When he walks into the Merry Men’s camp it’s like walking into a ghost house. There are still a few strung up tents tied to thick pine trees he remembers one being Tuck’s, another Alan’s and the last, his father’s. He walks slowly up to the green canvas homes, struggling to not sink to his knees at the sight of the broken down fire pit they all used to sit around. For all the anger he had towards them, for taking him away from Regina, for not really explaining what happened to his father, it’s bittersweet to sit down on the large oak log and take in the home he used to have so long ago.

The snow puffs about his shuffling feet in the dirt, the bark of the frozen tree chilling his skin through the denim trousers he borrowed from Henry. Even his breath is like a smoking cloud that dissolves into the cold air. There isn’t much warmth here anymore, not like there used to be. This place always had life to it. A song that sang loudly between the trees. It’s just silent now.

Frowning at the spiking chill in his fingers, he kneels next to the crumbled firepit, arranging the stone blocks back into something that resembles a half decent circle. Brushing off some twigs, he tips them up, like a teepee his dad used to say, you have to make a home for the fire or else it won’t burn properly. Grabbing some sodden mulch he piles it in between the branches and digs for his matches.

The first two don’t do much, it’s too wet to start. Grumbling he tries again, eliciting a bit of smoke this time, but it’s not going to grow into anything. He turns to try and locate something half dry, a pile of leaves in the far corner underneath the coverage of tree’s could possibly provide something half decent.

“Need a light?”

He swirls on the spot at her voice, finding her standing in a thick wool coat and green scarf tied around her neck at the edge of the camp. She looks scared to be here. And he wonders why. Perhaps it too brings back painful memories. He shrugs and glowers at the pitiful wisp of smoke curling from his little attempt at a fire. “Everything is wet. I can’t get it to start.”

He watches they way she hesitates at the clearings edge, her eyes flicking to Robin’s tent to their right, a sad expression painting her face below the mask he knows she wears. He promised to do better for his dad. After seeing her heart, he knew that he had been cruel in where he placed his blame on her. His boots crunch the leaves below as he walks up to her, extending a hand she looks down at before lacing her fingers into it. “It’s weird being here isn’t it.”

She nods, smiles but her eyes flush with wetness. Maybe he should have just suggested they talk at her manor. Somewhere she felt more at ease. “I haven’t been here since he died.”

“I remember you coming here to tell me.”

“You do?”

Her eyes are wide and fearful as he nods morosely, exhaling a dismally sad breath. “I don’t think I understood what was going on to be honest. I just remember you crying and no one saying anything and my dad not being there.”

“I’m sorry.” She whispers out guilt ridden. She should have been stronger for him. He lost his dad and she had simply sobbed as a little boy of five had hugged her tight and told her it would all be okay.

“Don’t be. I lost my dad. But you lost him too.”

He squeezes her gloved and slowly walks them back to the firepit, letting Regina sit on the blanket she quickly produces to keep their legs from freezing on the rock solid cold tree trunk. Watching as her hand twirls gently and a solid high flame consumes his little teepee of twigs, he finally lets a heavy breath go, thanks her quietly and sits down beside her, both their eyes trained into the flames.

It beautiful in the winter here, she’s always loved the way the air sparkles with frost, trees hang heavy and low with packed crystal white snow, everything having this ethereal look to it, as though if you breath too heavy it will all crack and fall apart. Tugging her coat around her tighter, she leans into Roland’s shoulder, being able to vaguely hear the beating of his heart, strong and steady.

They can’t sit here forever though. And she can’t avoid the green canvas tent behind her that once upon a time she spent many many nights within, tucked into a warm body who peppered her with affection.

“Can you tell me what happened? What really happened that night?” His voice is somber and sad, breaking the quiet of the forest around them. Her heart jumps anxiously at the memory as she closes her eyes and breathes out a heavy heavy breath.

“When we were in the Underworld you dad stayed with your sister in the forest while we tried to find Hook.”

“Why was she even down there?”

“Belle was watching her and Neal here in Storybrooke, and Zelena masqueraded as the Blue Fairy and I guess something went wrong and your sister, mine, and Belle were sucked into the portal there.”

“Zelena doesn’t seem like a very smart mother. Surely that wasn’t any place for a child. It’s why I didn’t go with you and dad.”

“No. She wasn’t at the time. But love can make you do some strange things.”

He huffs, frowns at the fuzzy memories of a little baby in pink he’d been introduced to briefly. They hadn’t honestly had much interaction before everything went sideways. He doesn’t even know her name.

“Anyway. We got your sister back and then I made the mistake of thinking I could trust Zelena’s judgement. She believed Hades had changed for love. Your father was furious with me when I asked him to trust me, to trust the woman who had stolen both of you away from me, the woman who had murdered your mother in the past.”

That he didn’t know. His heart thumping angrily at the thought they would even consider that woman to be an ally. After everything she had done to them. He scowls and stiffens and Regina feels it and sinks slightly in her posture beside him.

“It was a mistake. I never should have let my guard about her down, but I wanted so terribly to believe that she was going to try and be better.”

“You did what you thought was best at the time, I suppose.”

His tone is flat, clearly unimpressed with the story thus far, and it was only going to get worse. “I will regret that decision forever.”

“Why?”

“Hades double crossed all of us, tried to trap us in the Underworld so he and Zelena could return here and rule without any of us being there to stop him.”

“She picked a real winner didn’t she.”

Regina chuckles sadly, wipes her eyes that build with tears. “My sister is a complicated woman.”

“What happened after that? You guys obviously got back.”

“We did. You father and I broke into my office where Hades was keeping your sister.” The words catch in her throat. The locked away memory beginning to form into her mind. The way she had apologized for being so crass with Robin’s child. How he’d forgiven her, his promise that she was his future, that kiss that left her tingling from head to toe. It had been the last time she’d ever get to feel him like that again.

“Hades killed him didn’t he?”

Her tears fall but she nods out a quiet yes. They fall into silence, Roland watching the flames as his heart begins to bleed at the thought of his father dying as a hero. That’s all they told him. Not who, not how, but just that he died being the hero they all knew him to be. That was the last they would ever speak of it.

“He had this crystal that could obliterate a soul, wipe a person from existence and he turned it on me.”

Roland stills and tilts his face down to Regina’s who is crying quietly beside him. Her lips quivering, pink chilled cheeks stained with heavy trails of pain that escape eyes shut tight.

“He saved you.”

“It’s my fault he died.”

His head swirls at the idea, but he knew his father, and his papa was a man who put those he loved first. He was a hero in every shape and form. There is no doubt in his mind that his dad would have done only what was necessary in order to save her.

“No. No it’s not.”

Regina cries only harder at that, burying her face into her palms as Roland covers her little torso into his arms, and hugs her tight. “He loved you. And I know my dad. He didn’t do it without thinking about the consequences. He knew what he was doing.”

“It should have been me though.” She shakes in his arms, “He shouldn’t have gotten in my way.”

“Do you really think my dad would have listened to you?”

“What?” She sniffs hard, pulling back from his body and searching his face confused as he smiles down at her. “Think about it. When did you ever know my dad to listen to anyone when someone who he loved was being threatened?”

Her mind floods with all the times he had done just that. Not listened to her. Gotten in her way and almost died for it. In the Enchanted Forest, here in storybrooke when the darkness tried to take her, in Camelot when a blade meant for her had stabbed him instead. He was stubborn when it came to her protection. The thought makes her heart skip.

“He was beyond stubborn in that regard and there if he was here today, you know he’d tell you he would do it again.”

She cries, nods, and leans back into him. He’s right. And she knows it. But still, his protective streak had cost him his life, simply because he loved her, and she never wanted that from him, his life to be taken for hers to be sparred. That wasn’t supposed to be their ending.

“I’m proud of him. Now that I know why he died. Makes me feel better, more at peace I guess.”

“I’m sorry you lost him Roland.”

“Me to. And I am sorry for you too. Like I said, he was my dad, but you loved him too, and loss is never easy.”

“When did you become so wise?” She smirks through her tears as he grins and shrugs, “Not a clue.”

They fall back into an easier silence as the fire heats the air around them. Perhaps this is good for her, to talk about what happened, she’s never truly spoken to anyone but Maleficent about that night. It feels....freeing in a strange way.

“I miss him.”

“Me too.”

“Will you tell me about your heart?”

Exhaling hard she sits up straight, leaving Roland’s shoulder rest for now, “When I got home from New York, you were gone. I think it was Ruby who told me that the Merry Men had taken you back to Sherwood Forest. I was furious.”

“You were?”

“Of course I was. You were not just theirs. I loved you.” She shakes out angrily at the memory of learning her little knight had been taken without even a conversation or goodbye. “For days after you left I had tried everything to open a portal so that I could at least come and explain what was happening, possibly convince them to let me have you for a little while every year.”

“You wanted me back?”

“Roland.” She turns and cups his cheek tenderly. “There hasn’t been a day that’s passed that I haven’t prayed for you to come home to me. I have missed you more than I can express and I feel so unbelievably guilty that I never got to say even a goodbye to you. It wasn’t fair to you.”

“Wasn’t fair to you either.”  

“No. It wasn’t. But you were so young and understandably couldn’t possibly know why everything had suddenly changed. I should have protected you better.”

His eyes burn with tears, swallowing the lump in his throat heavily as he breathes out a shaky, “I’m here now though.”

Regina smiles, lets a few tears fall from her thick lashes as her head shakes back and forth before holding his gaze strong.

“You are. And I promise that I won’t let that happen ever again.”

“I guess you couldn’t open a portal though?”

“I tried. I really did. Magic can be finicky and when the black fairy’s wand had shattered when the portal closed, it closed off everything. For a while no one could travel anywhere.”

He nods, beginning to understand more and more why he grew up without her. “Is that why your heart looks like it does?”

“Part of it certainly.”

Frowning he tilts her fallen chin back up to his eyes. “What happened to it then?”

Regina sighs, sniffs back till she can steal her emotions at bay and explain to him as best as she can. “I couldn’t give up on you, or your father.”

“You tried to bring him back?”

“I did, many times. But magic is finicky and it’s nearly killed me in the process.”

“He’d be pissed with you doing that.”

“I know.” She chuckles, seeing his bright blue eyes in the distance of her heart, the way he’d certainly be huffing out an aggravated breath at her for putting herself in jeopardy like that. But she missed him.

“Why didn’t it work?”

“I needed more than just my heart to bring him back I guess.”

“You gave up pieces of your heart for him?”

“And for you.”

His eyebrows raise high into his hairline as he gapes openly astounded and confused at her.

“I was so desperate to get you both back that my own well being didn’t seem that important at the time. As long as it worked, I would keep trying.”

“Yeah he’d definitely be mad at you for that. I am a bit to be honest.”

She freezes beside him, “I was trying to find you.”

“And putting yourself in danger in the process. Neither of us would have wanted that.”

“Roland you were five.”

“Doesn’t matter. You are my mother and there is no way I’d want you to do that for me.”

Her jaw drops, eyes flooding with new fresh hot tears. He called her his mother, present tense. It makes her heart flip and crash about against her ribs.

“What?”

“You called me your mother.”

“You are. Why do you think I came back to find you?”

He looks oddly bewildered at her stunned expression. It’s true. She’s been that person for him. He doesn’t remember Marian. Not really anyway. And the memories of Zelena masquerading as her have been magically wiped away. Regina in all essence is his mom. He just figured she knew that. Regardless of his anger towards her in the beginning, he is still that same lost little boy holding her memory in his heart like a vice grip. And now that the truth is beginning to come out, the anger is swallowed by a longing to have her back. He’s missed her. And he wants her to be there again. Wants a mother back. Wants her back.

Her arms curl slowly around his neck and she buries her face into his chest, crying hard, and he isn’t sure if it’s from pain or happiness, he hopes it’s the later as he hugs her back tightly. “I mean if you still want me to stay…”

“Always Roland. Always.” She laughs through her tears into him, gripping his shoulders harder, as he chuckles into her hair, soft as he remembers it to be.

“I have a question though.” He pulls back, looking her straight in her eyes. “Do you know what could bring him back?”

“I don’t in all honesty.” She confesses, “I thought that maybe because he and I are soulmates that my heart would be enough.” Her voice trails off.

“What about using mine as well?”

“Roland.” She shakes her head, because that is a definite no. “I won’t use your heart.”

“Why?”

“Because. I don’t know if it would work, and even if it did, I can’t do that to you, he wouldn’t want that.”

“I’m a grown man, I can make my own decisions and I want you to do it. Just let us try.”

“Roland--”

“Just once. If it doesn’t work then I won’t ask you again.”

She shakes her head, but he cups her cheek, his button brown eyes melting her soul.

“Please mom.”

[horgons-vengance]

Chapter 6

Ken sat in the small, dark chamber alone, breathing steadily, studying every part of the room.

After 20 minutes of studying the room, Ken pulled a bull’s horn out of his coat, and began to describe the room to the horn, down to each tile, and each crack.

This took an hour, and once Ken described the last crack, put the horn away, put his hat on, stood up, and began to move to leave, when the door flew open and hit him in the chest, causing him to stumble back.

“What the hell!”

Davin laughed “Well don’t stand so close to the door, dumbass.”

“Don’t open the door so fast, no reason to try and break our house.”

Ken stood a solid 2 feet over Davin. Not because Davin was short. Matter of fact he was exceptionally  tall for a human.

Kenshiro was a Minotaur, standing at about 7’10.

Massive compared to nearly anyone, Ken was the largest resident of Bronte, and also its Mayor.

     “My mistress wants to see you ‘Mister Mayor’ about your taxes.”

    Ken sighed “Why does this not surprise me that she is upset at a small tax. Lead the way.”

    Davin turned to leave the small room, and stepped into the foyer of the small Castle. Tapestry hung on the walls decrypting the symbol of the succubus, a small pair horns on an attractive woman with a tail in the shape of a heart around her. Mahogany tables with expensive center pieces every 10 feet. Ken looked at them as they passed and thought to himself

  “She’s upset about a Hundred gold a month tax, but has five Ten thousand gold center pieces in one room. I can’t believe this woman.”

  Davin opened a large door at the other end of the foyer into an office, and at the other end of the Office sat a woman, her skin a slight purple, small curved horns sticking out of her head. She was wearing skin tight leather suit that left little to the imagination, and her tail was flicking around, similar in fashion to a cat about to pounce. Her hair was a bright pink, long and Curly. She was staring out the large bay window facing over the town

  “So Ken, what right do you think you have to tax my business such an outrageous amount.” The woman, still looking out the window.

  Ken sighed and said “Well for one, I’m the Mayor, so its kind of my job, and two you are rent free, and you make a hundred gold in about 3 customers. Im making you basically pay chump change.”

 She turned, Her piercing blue eyes squinted angrily. “I shouldn’t have to pay a tax, I let you live here.”

“Listen, Lilith, I’m not the town, you are paying taxes to help the town, not me.”

Lilith got even more upset “ But you made the tax you idiot, and I don’t want to pay it. Now pack your stuff and get out of my house, I’m sick of you and your Taxes and town problems. Come back when you have real things for me to worry about.”

   As Lilith said that, there was a knock at the door.

“Come in” Lilith know only towns folk knocked, and they don’t bother her unless it’s important.

   In stepped Jake, the local mage's apprentice, with a worried look on his face. “My lady, Kenshiro there seems to be a large group of soldiers approaching, with their banners raised. I think it’s the Paladins again.” It had been quite awhile since the Paladins tried to bother them, since last time they killed the goblin that threw bombs at whatever moved and Ken had struck back by cleaving one of theirs in half with his massive axe. They called truce, and said no more blood needed to be spilt, then left.

   A voice behind Jake spoke, like a breeze of wind, soft and quiet and gentle, but at the same time, eerie and disturbing. “It is time. This is the final step to our plan.”

   Ken jumped slightly, startled by the sudden voice. “Ok, we seriously need to put a bell on you Shia.”

   A figure walked in from behind Jacob, wearing a midnight black cowl, with armor so dark that one couldn’t tell if it was cloth or part of the abyss.

      Shia’s face was not visible in the cowl, looking more like a specter then another person. The only thing visible on Shia’s person was the bow on Their back, and the rapier on Their waist.

   “No time, we must meet our guests” Said Shia, Their voice crept out from the cowl, with there being no sign of them saying anything, no movement, just a voice.

  Ken sighed, getting sick of the fact no one in the group had a sense of humor. “Fine, get Balgam and Abraham, and we will finish this.”

    ____________________________________

Ken stood at the edge of the forest surrounding Bronte, now donning his Dark blue Half plate armor and Wielding his Giant great axe, which sparked with electricity.

   Abraham stood next to him, in his blood red gi. Abraham was only other decently tall person in the group, standing at 6 foot 5 inches, though Ken still towered over him.

  Abraham’s hair was spiked back, which, to Ken at least, made him look like a large porcupine.

  His eyes glowed red in anticipation of the battle about to commence. Battle was really the only reason Abraham was there. Not once has he cared about the plan that Shia had in motion, nor did he care about his deity telling him to ensure this plan went through. He just wants a good fight.

 Balgam stood beside him, stirring some sort of concoction. Balgam was a large rat, about the size of a ten year old. One could smell him from 20 feet away and it only got worse the closer they got.

  There were bumps and large puss bubbles all over Balgam, and his fur was stuck to his body with fluids. He quite literally looked like the plague and smelled like it. That’s all he was, a large plague rat that wanted nothing but to spread his own personal plague.

  Lilith stood in the same clothes she was in before because, in her words, “The enemy will get distracted.” though now she held a wooden staff.

  Davin stood next to her, now in black full plate, with a scimitar and a purple tower shield almost the size of him. The tower shield had the same insignia as the tapestry back in the castle.

  Shia stood the same as before, though now with the bow drawn, and an arrow notched.

   Davin decided to break the silence in typical Davin fashion, by asking a stupid question.

  “Where are they? I thought they would be here by now.”

“I already told you, I had my underlings slow them down so you could play dress up.” Balgam responded with a snarl.

  “Would you prefer that I come out here in a sleeveless shirt and Leather pants and just flex at them?”

   Lilith laughed “I would.”

Ken laughed as well then turned his face serious as he saw the approaching band of men. “Time to Focus.”

 There were about 17 soldiers approaching,some with crossbow bolts sticking out of the cracks in their armor and blood on their chest from Balgam’s underlings they had killed.

  “Oh great, now I have to get more.” Balgam said, then fell into a coughing fit.

  Most of the men were in metal armor with four in the back in leather armor and wielding bows.

  One man in the front had bright shining armor that glowed with the radiance of the sun, and a insignia on his shield depicting the sun. His war hammer glowed the same as his armor, and all of it looked clean, even though it was obvious he was just in a battle.

   “Thats our target.” Shia said.

The man in the shining armor held up his hand to stop his men about 100 feet away from the group standing opposite of them. He motioned for something to be brought forward. It was a table and a jug of ale, and had the men bring it to the middle of the two groups, and sat. He motioned for someone of Ken’s group to come forward.

  “So, whos gonna go talk the shiny idiot?” Lilith asked.

  Ken sighed “I’ll go, maybe he will make this easy for us and give up.”

  “Probably not dumbass”

  “Thanks Davin, glad to see you still haven’t figured out sarcasm”

  “Eat me.”

Ken walked to the table and sat down, he could see all of the men in the army become tense as a giant minotaur approached their leader. This is the usual reaction, though Ken was the best negotiator of the group, because he didn’t try to immediately kill them if it doesn’t go his way.

  “So Ken, we meet again.” the man spoke as he approached. “Glad to see they sent the sensible one to come out and talk.”

“What do you want Dan? Im sure you didn’t come all this way to share a drink.”

 “We both know why I’m here Ken, we know you are close to finishing your plan, and I have to atleast try and stop you.” Dan said, pouring the ale into two cups and offering one to Ken.

   Ken took it, and held it up for Dan to clink his cup with him. Dan did, and they both drank.

    “Well, that makes sense Dan. If it’s any consolation, I’m sick of this plan. I just want to continue being a mayor. But if I don't go through with this, It's obvious what would happen at this late into the game.”

“Aye. Well, Best of luck to you in this battle to come.”

“You as well Dan.”

     They both finished their drink and stood. They shook each other's hands and turned to return to their respective groups.

     “You done talking to your boyfriend Ken?” Lilith said as he returned.  

  “Pretty much, lets end this so I don't have to keep talking you people.”

  “Agreed.”

     Ken turned back to face Dan and his men whilst pulling the axe off of his back, and held up three fingers and began to count them down.

  “Three.” Davin shifted his shoulders and popped his neck. Abraham cracked his knuckles and smiled.

    “Two.” As Ken said two, Shia Shot an Arrow at one of the archers and Balgam threw his vial into the main mass of the enemy. Davin and Abraham charged. Lilith just laughed.

Ken just sighed, raised his weapon, and charged, figuring there was no point in finishing the count down.