To Marry a Vigilante: Part 6

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

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Even if she tried to downgrade her reaction to learning that the class was held hostage, Marinette was still nervous. No amount of rationalizing that they were mean or that they didn’t care one bit about her helped. She just couldn’t help but worry about them.

Damian tried his best to understand her, but he really didn’t feel any empathy toward them. Idiots brought it upon themselves. He wouldn’t cry after them. Instead, he took it upon himself to distract his beloved from her stress. They were in the middle of the second Disney movie when she finally dozed off in his arms. Given his luck, that was the moment Selina decided to enter the room. 

“Oh. I’m sorry to interrupt.” She said with a face that clearly meant she wasn’t even a bit sorry. 

“Tt. You’re lucky Angel’s asleep.” He scoffed, making sure not to be too loud. 

“Angel huh? The best I ever got from Bruce was ‘Kitty’, and even that was only out of the suit. You’re moving fast.” 

“Shut up.” The scowl on his face was evident. 

“Why aren’t you roof-running with the rest of them?” She asked, dropping the teasing (for now).

“I told father I would no longer carry the mantle of Robin.” He revealed. It wasn’t much of a secret, but beyond Bruce, only Alfred knew. Their butler knew everything and then some more. 

“Whoa!” Seline looked genuinely surprised. “What brought this on? Don’t tell me you’re planning on settling down with a wife.” Her grin returned. 

“Tt. Will you people stop?”

“No. Now answer the question pip-squeak.”

“For the record, I’m almost your height now.” He sighed before taking a sneaky gaze at his wife. “Did Bruce tell you about Paris?”

“Not really.” She made a pensive face.

“Then I am honor-bound to withhold any more information.” 

She looked at him, trying to judge what it was really about, but Selina kept getting distracted by how cute the two teens looked. If she didn’t know, she would assume they were dating for at least two years, not barely a semester. There was this trust that Damian refused to show anyone else, maybe beside Dick sometimes. 

“Fine. But I hope when the time comes, you’ll speak to us.” She was about to leave, but something stopped her. “And if you want to avoid more teasing, try not to have your ‘beloved’ fall asleep in your arms where the cameras can see.” She smirked and left the teens alone. Damian groaned. He was really digging his own grave.

“Dami…” Marinette murmured. For a moment, he thought that he woke her up, but she just snuggled closer and returned to sleep. 

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A cloaked figure was making strides through the city, trying to keep to the shadows. The streets of Gotham were mostly empty at that hour, but those who still dwelled usually didn’t have good intentions. And even in a city where a group of people in fancy suits was more efficient than the police, someone in a full black cloak with a hood to boot would attract attention sooner or later. 

“Hey! Look at that, boys. Someone’s trying to play bat.” A group of burly men stepped their way. 

They received no answer.

“What? Bat’s got your tongue? What say you drop the costume and we can see who’s there,” the supposed leader taunted.

They received no answer.

“Oh come on! We can play too!” One of them smiled. He was more perceptive and noted that the figure’s body was not only small but slightly more curvaceous. “Come on, don’t be shy.” 

Still, no reaction.

Angered by the lack of any reaction (and slightly tipsy), one of the men tried to push the cloaked person. Their supposed victim reacted by stepping to the side. What happened next froze all of the onlookers’ blood. 

With one swift motion, the figure brought a blue weapon down on their companion and it went right through his neck. When she pulled it out, the fancy fan unfolded. From under the black hood, a blue face looked at the would-be attackers. It was definitely female, but it was impossible to make out the age.

“You’re not worthy to even lick my boots, peasant,” she sneered before looking at the others. “Neither are you.” 

She folded her fan and rushed forward. 

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The next day started mostly normal for Marinette. She did wake up curled into Damian’s side, which was nice. Her mother then showed her at least twenty pictures of them sleeping cuddled together, which was embarrassing. She promised to save them for when she was older, which was a dreadful image. Damian brought her coffee in the morning, which was great. He was so thoughtful.

“Mari? Mari? Sweetie?” Her mother waved her hand in front of the girl. “When you stop daydreaming about your lover-boy, can you pay attention?”

“Sorry, Maman.” 

“Don’t worry. I was once young too.” Her mother nodded understandingly. “But could you please pay attention? That goes to you too, young man.” She raised her head to send Damian a light glare. 

“I apologize for my lack of attention.” 

“Today the class is having a trip to the mall, to buy anything they did not bring with them. Caline forced this when it turned out that several girls had nothing to wear for the Gala, which they were apparently ‘not informed about’,” Sabine scoffed.

“Tt. They were. It was that Angel refused to give them free clothes,” Damian interluded. 

“I offered to make them the dresses. I even caved and offered a discount.” She grinned. “It’s not my fault all my prices are adjusted to my usual clients.” 

“And the fact that your usual clients are celebrities who deemed anything lower an insult to their persona is irrelevant,” Chloé added, walking into the room. She barely managed to get to the chair before collapsing. Whatever possessed her to ask Cassandra Cain for training?

“They didn’t!” Mari protested, but she didn’t put much heart into it. 

“Shush! I’m your agent now.” 

“I know Chlo. You don’t need to flaunt it.”

“You’re kidding? I’m the girl behind MDC. Suck it, mother!” She shouted at the ceiling, even though it was physically impossible for Audrey to hear her. 

“Tt. Moving back to the subject?”

“Oh! Don’t mind me now. I’m having fun.” Sabine smiled at the kids. “But yes, the class is going to be visiting the mall. In theory, you three should be joining them.”

“But?”

“But I would prefer if you kept your distance from them,” Sabine responded harshly. “I don’t want you mixing yourself with a bad crowd Sweetie.” 

“Got it, Mom. We will be visiting a smaller shopping district then. I need to fashion masks for all three of us.” 

“Won’t masks be provided at the gala?” The woman asked, surprised.

“Tt. Only for those who don’t bring theirs.” Damian clarified. 

“Good. One more thing.” She turned to the only boy in the room. “Damian, I trust you to keep both of them safe today. Otherwise, you will have three angry assassins on your neck for the rest of your short life.” She threatened, ignoring the exasperated expression on Mari’s face and Chloé who was checking her nails. 

“Three?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I told you that Sandra adores Marinette. And Cassandra shares our feelings toward her newest cousin.” 

It took all of Damian’s willpower to remain calm. The idea of Cass, Lady Shiva, and Sabine chasing him was terrifying. “Of course, Madame. I will guard them with all my strength.” 

“Then have fun kids! Tom promised to drop you off when he goes to the market and Bruce let him take one of the cars.”

“I’ll go pack up,” the two girls said at the same time. They giggled before running to their respective rooms. Damian just stared after them for a moment, shrugged, and left for his room  to get dressed. 

When he opened his wardrobe, a line full of ready sets consisting of black turtlenecks and dark-gray jeans, all already ironed and fresh. Together with the morning toilet, it took him a total of seventeen minutes and forty-three seconds to get ready. When he arrived in the main hall, he saw Tom sitting leisurely and reading through the newspaper.

“Tt. Sir, shouldn’t we be leaving?”

“Oh! Damian!” The baker lightened up. “Why would we need to be leaving? The girls left to get ready only a… fifteen minutes ago.” He looked like he was looking for another word, but changed his mind when he couldn’t find it. 

“Closer to twenty,” the boy couldn’t help but correct, “but it means they will be ready soon.” 

Tom laughed loudly. Damian sent the older man a questioning look, but he had to wait for him to calm down. “You never had to wait for a girl to get ready in the morning, did you?” Tom questioned once he calmed down.

“I do not see the relation…”

“Find yourself somewhere to sit. Most likely we won’t be leaving in at least an hour.” The baker cheerfully suggested. 

“But…” 

“It’s how the universe works and the sooner you get used to it, the better. A piece of advice: don’t rush them or it will get worse.” 

“Um… I still want to know why…” 

“Everyone does, but some questions don’t have answers.” Tom laughed. 

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“Damian! Look at that fabric! I’ve never seen it in stores before!” Marinette dragged her beloved toward the wall of various bales. She showed him yet another fabric, that he couldn’t really separate from three previous ones. Unless you count the color that is. 

“It is indeed interesting…” He tried to find the word, but Mari was too far gone to pay him any attention. When he used to listen to his brothers whining after shopping trips with the girls, he always dismissed it as fairy tales. Now, he regretted that he didn’t listen to Tom’s warning and hadn’t brought a wireless earset. The kind that only uses one ear so he could still hear what Marinette and Chloé talked about. 

“Mari! Look at that one!” The blonde in question pointed to one that was placed quite high. It was black and when reflected light, seemed to glow purple and dark-gold. Interesting, but it held little tactical value. 

“Perfect. Dami, could you reach it?”

“Sorry, Angel, you’re the one with wings here.” He said the first thing that came to his mind. 

His beloved blushed. Chloé just shook her head and muttered something about diabetes. 

After shopping for fabrics, a new sketchbook, several sets of sketching pencils, and some wires, Damian finally got them to go grab a bite. The whole way he kept skulking. Marinette had forbidden him from paying for any materials or clothes. He wanted to!

Of course, the moment their order was brought had to be the moment a villain made an entrance. Firefly zoomed into the calm street and immediately started to set things on fire. The girls immediately jumped into action, herding the panicking crowd and accelerating the evacuation. Damian took cover and sent a quick text to Oracle before joining Marinette and Chloé with crowd control. It was quite impressive to see the blonde grab the guy twice her size and force him to run the other way. Marinette focused on gathering as many stray kids as possible and guiding them away. There went his hope of not ending up like Father. 

It was going okay, the villain seemed more focused on making the buildings burn than attacking the defenseless civilians. Up until he flew over the entrance dropping napalm and cutting them off. Marinette immediately jumped between Firefly and the group of kids she was leading. Damian and Chloé were by her side faster than one could say ‘wedding dress’. 

“I told you Katana is a viable accessory.” He grumbled. That reminded Mari. He noticed that her red dress (his favorite) gained a broad red sash tightly wrapped around her. It had no noticeable clip holding it in place, so he assumed she just made some adjustments. Now he watched her unroll it to reveal her Christmas rope dart wrapped around her. She quickly grabbed the end and allowed it to fall loose on the ground.

“At least now we aren’t entirely defenseless.” She stated confidently. This was not Marinette the Parisian girl. This was Marinette the Ladybug, with or without a suit.

“And what do we have here?” Firefly floated not so far away. “A whole collection of new…” He didn’t get to finish. Marinette immediately attacked, hoping to attract his attention away from the kids. Damian cursed loudly. He wanted to leap into action, but he knew that Chloé stood no chance to protect the kids alone. 

The rope dart stuck Firefly in the arm, making a deep cut and letting some blood out, but the heat of his surrounding cauterized the wound. It didn’t seem to bother him. Instead, the villain aimed his flame gun at the girl who was already away from the group. 

“I will make you burn!” He shouted and opened fire. The girl he was aiming at used her rope to pull herself away faster and avoid the flames. 

In the distance, one could hear the sound of sirens, announcing the arrival of the police and fire department. They were still several minutes away and even then Firefly was probably too hard to capture without specialized gear. Or a rope dart. 

Marinette spun it several times in circles before releasing her weapon like a deadly projectile. Thanks to a quick flick of her wrist, the rope wrapped around the criminal’s ankle. He didn’t expect it, and when she yanked hard, he lost control over his jetpack for just a moment. It was enough for her to release the ties and gather the rope back. By the time Firefly managed to regain stability, she was already launching another projectile. This time, the dart flew straight and went right through his gun. There were several sparks, but as the rope was isolated she stood her ground. Yanking on the rope, she made him let go of the flame thrower before it exploded. The item fell on the ground and she pulled the now-free dart back while dodging for cover. 

Damian saw the gun sparking and without thinking picked the loose sewer cover and jumped in front of the kids. Chloé used a nearby trash can to form a wall between them while the lid served as her shield. The barricade would be useless if someone aimed at them, but it did a fine job shielding the group of eight kids from exploding a flamethrower. They had to drop their defense as soon as the explosion passed, and their hands still got hurt regardless. But they probably saved eight kids from heavy scarring. 

Firefly did not have the same luck. The explosion caught him in the middle and the knockback pinned him to the wall. When he got over the daze, he was met with several police guns aimed at him. 

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Watching the reunion of kids caught in the fire with their parents was heartwarming for Marinette. She was proud of her husband and best friend. Their quick action definitely saved several lives. 

“Excuse me, miss?” A policeman in a long brown coat came to her. The paramedics already cleared her and one gave her the number of a trusted therapist if she needed to talk with someone. “Commissioner Gordon.” He introduced himself. “I was told you were the one that took down the villain…”

“It was an accident.” She spoke quickly. “I mean I didn’t try to take him down. He came over to where I was hiding with the kids. I thought he was about to burn us so I just acted on instincts. Get attention, move away from the group, keep attention, strike with everything at your disposal.” She recited. 

“That… Where did you learn that?” He stared at her. She was very young but spoke with the experience of someone who dealt with this on a daily basis. 

“Paris was dealing with a supervillain for the last four years. My class was a hotspot for his possessions.” She took a deep breath to calm down. “Even before the attacks started, I was taking martial arts classes. I upped the intensity after that.”

“Hm… I see. And your weapon…?” Commissioner asked, pointing at the rope dart now wrapped around her waist. She didn’t yet have time to put the sash back on. 

“Oh! Rope Darts are my weapon of choice. Easy to carry around, fast, good for non-lethal takedowns, and can be made into a fashionable accessory.” She smiled.

“Indeed. Even before that, you and your friends were herding the stray children and directing adults to the nearest exit.” 

“Same. I’m not sure how it works in Gotham, but in Paris, it was important to get people away from the ak… possessed person.” She corrected herself for the sake of not explaining everything. “Some of them tended to make civilians into puppets.”

“It was still brave of you. I didn’t get your name.”

“It’s Marinette, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Nice to meet you, Commissioner.” She gave him a bright smile.

“Thank you for your service, Miss Dupain-Cheng.” He saluted the girl before walking away, muttering about reports. Now she only had to explain things to the adults at the Wayne Manor.

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Masterlist // Next

* jacob elordi, male + he/him  | you know stephen maldonado, right? they’re twenty-three, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, their whole life? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to jerk by the front bottoms like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole dark denim jackets littered in pins paired with ratty white nikes, brow seemingly held frozen in a consistently furrowed brow, and empty bottle of mountain dew code red stuffed with cigarette butts thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is november 13, so they’re a scorpio, which is unsurprising, all things considered.

hi.

one more time with feeling (until i stupidly take up my fourth muse ASAP).  liz (she/they, 23, est) AKA auld liz syne#2288 on discord.edu. anyways every squad got the Extremely Normal Guy and sometimes that’s stephen. 

basics.

full name:  stephen casey maldonado. birthday:  november 13, 1997. big three:  scorpio sun, capricorn moon, taurus rising. sexuality:  bisexual. occupation:  guest service representative at the palm motel. neighborhood: grew up in the orion avenue area, now lives in delphinus heights.

bio.

stephen was raised by irving stock. his parents were hometown sweethearts that started dating when his mom was a sophomore and his dad was a junior and somehow, they made that last. they never wanted more than to live in their little home by the beach with their family and the community they were so attached to. his mother was a social worker and his father was a firefighter and they loved their little suburban life. they had kids and got involved in their neighborhood play groups and that classic idea of the little house and the two kids and an abundance of hometown spirit.

death tw. when stephen was seven, his dad died. it was sudden, unexpected, not even related to his work or anything. it was just like one morning he was there and the next he wasn’t. and it hit his family hard. he had always been close with his dad, and after this, he became immortalized to stephen as a hero. he still bumps into people in irving who’ll have a story about how his dad, who he barely got to know, and how he was this amazing guy that he should strive to be like. it’s given him something of a complex. he’s got this idea of the person he needs to be an he’s scrambling to piece that together. it’s just not as easy to him as all the old stories lead him to believe it would be.

through it all, his mom and his sister grew closer, and stephen began to feel like something of an outsider in his own family. it wasn’t their fault, it was natural. they had things in common, a similar temperament, just these natural things bonding them that stephen wasn’t apart of. he was already spending a lot of time hanging out at other neighborhood kids houses while his mom worked, so it wasn’t a stretch for him to stick around when he realized he had more fun there than at home. so he became one of those kids that would just bounce between friends houses and look for any opportunity for a group hang or sleepover. 

middle school stephen was that kid who wanted to be really funny and athletic and likable but always fell short. he wasn’t horrible by any means, he was just kind of a dork, by middle school standards. when high school came around, he was determined to rebrand himself, and it sort of worked. he grew out of his awkward phase, got a pass for his daily uniform of ratty flannels and hand-me-down levis from his mom’s friend’s kids, because now it was grunge and it was an aesthetic. he never had the confidence to try and pass himself off as Truly Cool, but he found a way to make his whole thing work as like a pretentious kind of cool guy. 

but what he did not realize is while being pretentious earned him street cred with a certain group, it also made him kind of a jerk. he always had to be right or like assert his opinion even when no one fucking asked. bit pathetic. but sometimes that’s the price of being a depressed indie king....

when he graduated, he got into hospitality. part of it was a fluke: when his friends all went off to college, he needed a job. so he took one working nights at the palm motel, because it was the best pay he could find and he was still able to sleep in on weekdays which was an epic win in his mind.  in the end though, he ended up loving it. it’s corny and he’d never admit it to anyone because he has a reputation to uphold, but he loves getting to feel like he’s giving the tourists that come through town a special little home away from home. he knew he loved the feeling of getting away, even if it was just down the street, when he was a kid, and he likes giving that feeling to other people. it was also around this time he started getting serious with his girlfriend and they moved into their own little place they could barely afford but still skillfully and thriftfully decorated and it felt like everything was really coming together.

like sure it wasn’t his parent’s perfect marriage and beautiful community serving jobs, but it felt like something close. something precious he could have and be proud of and use to get to sleep at night with a hope that his dad would be proud too, if he could see it.

but that was years ago, and now things have taken a turn for the worse. things lose their glimmer, over time. he still loves the idea of working at the motel, and has even worked his way up the ranks over his time there, but now working as a guest service rep, he’s dealt with enough pissed-off moms and spring breakers that fuck shit up for fun to last him a lifetime. “disgusting-little-man”gate hasn’t been great for business and he’s having to face the facts that there may not be much else for him left at the palm, but he’s also too broke to really stop and reassess the situation. icing on the cake has been his recent breakup and his car getting two flat tires at once, landing him in the ideal situation: living with his ex-girlfriend that he still has feelings for with no clue what’s gonna happen next in his life. funny sadman falls on hard times :pensive:

plotting ideas.

friends/acquaintances because he’s weirdly socialized!

enemies/people he’s pissed off being a pretentious [redacted]!

it’s always weird to ask for cousins but honestly i love extended family stuff be my cousin.

tinder date he fucked up by being too emotional about being recently dumped!

tinder date that went better and they hooked up but then he ghosted because he’s a bit out of it!

i’m out of ideas to just vaguely list but..... we talk and we plot something amazing okay?

Dare To Forget Me

Ch. 30: There For Her 

Previous chapters // Montserrat's masterlist

Fandom: SVU // Pairing:  Rafael Barba x OFC

Warnings: Due to the nature of the series’ plots, I do have to rate this as ‘mature’ for constant mentions of rape.

Taglist: @ocfairygodmother @anotherunreadblog @maaaaarveeeeel​ @stareyedplanet @perfectlystiles @averyhotchner [If you’d like to be added to this specific OC’s stories/edits, send me a message!]

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Chapter Summary: Things couldn't seem to be going worse for Montserrat. At least she has Rafael with her, though he's struggling at the moment too considering he can't shake off the other woman who won't stop calling him.

Montserrat's presence in the bullpen was immediately question when she walked in that morning. "I mean, you could try saying 'good morning'," her sarcasm seemed to be completely intact. She let her things drop on her desk before giving each of her co-workers a look for their bombardment of questions. "That hasn't gone out of style."

"We just figured you wouldn't show up for a few days," Fin said what everyone else was thinking.

"I want to keep my job and besides...these days where I have been gone...have been way too hard," she took a seat and scooted closer to her desk. "I think a little distraction might be good."

"But is your brother okay, then?" Amanda inquired.

"Calhoun is trying to sort things out with the evidence that Damian supplied her with. Maybe by the end of the day...my brother might be out," Montserrat's small smile was still so full of hope the others wished she was right. "But tell me how's Nick?"

"He's been arraigned," Olivia answered and soon the grimness started spreading to the rest of the squad. "1PP won't budge and none of us have $500,000 lying around."

"The judge seriously posted that as his bail?" Montserrat gaped. "That's outrageous! Not to mention, ridiculous?"

"Yeah, well, they're pinning it on the fact this isn't Nick's first offence," Sonny shook his head. "And Murphy isn't trying to do much for him."

"Hm, so now you're not really liking him either," Montserrat found a moment to smirk.

"He's not letting us help by investigating!" Sonny exclaimed in frustration. "We're just supposed to sit here and continue our work as if our friend isn't in trouble."

"Speaking of work…" Montserrat turned her chair to the others, "Not that I'm moving on from Nick, but...I heard we caught a new case? International vic?"

"Yeah, not really going anywhere though," Amanda bitterly remarked as she opened up her laptop. "Our vic was scammed by a girl and her pimp. Hans Erhard was a tourist from Germany and he answered a Craigslist for a New York girlfriend experience."

"We have both the girl and her pimp in custody but none of them are talking," Olivia shook her head.

"Can I take a crack at it?" Montserrat's question was so volunteering that it really sounded as if she was just her regular self. "I mean, maybe a fresh new detective?"

"Well how about you catch up on it first?" Murphy had walked into the bullpen with a coffee in hand. "Welcome back, detective. How's your brother?"

"As well as he could be in jail," Montserrat sighed and pushed herself up from her desk. "But this case...what do you have for me to review?"

Murphy directed her to their pinboard in the conference area. The good thing about Montserrat was that she really did catch on fast. In thirty minutes she knew exactly what they were dealing: two scammers looking for a quick buck in innocent tourists. Ellie Porter, the girl they'd brought in, was still waiting for a legal aid while her pimp - Little Tino - was already talking with his lawyer to get him out.

While the squad discussed their next plans, a tall dark-haired man in a nice suit walked in. By the briefcase he carried, it was presumed that he was a lawyer, later confirmed when he spoke up. "I'm looking for Ellie Porter. Sorry I'm late. I just caught the case."

"I thought you said you were waiting for her public defender?" Montserrat turned to the rest for some answers.

"We were," Fin answered while keeping his eyes keenly on the new man.

Olivia walked over to him, looking pretty comfortable in his presence but not very happy to see him. "Uh, guys,meet Trevor Langan. He's a, uh, high-priced mouthpiece for lowlifes."

Langan didn't seem the least bit offended by the introduction. In fact, he had something to add on. "And you, once. How soon we forget."

His words instigated some confusion amongst Montserrat, Sonny and Amanda but Fin motioned them not to even ask.

"It's nice to see you, detective," Langan offered a genuine smile at Olivia, leading the newer detectives to conclude he wasn't their typical Buchanan or even Calhoun type of lawyer.

"It's actually sergeant now," Olivia corrected. "So what, you caught a pro bono?"

"Yeah. Do a few of them a year. It keeps me an honest lawyer."

"An oxymoron," Murphy walked out of the office to find the new lawyer.

"Uh, this is our new C.O., Lieutenant Murphy," Olivia introduced.

"Wow. A lot of changes around here," Langan eyed the trio of detectives before giving Murphy a side-glance. Ultimately, he returned his gaze to Olivia with a different type of expression. One could say it was more caring than any other lawyer the squad had seen in the precinct. "And, uh...you, are you doing okay with, uh…everything?"

Olivia gave a nod of her head and made to turn. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks."

Murphy led Langan away so he could speak with Ellie.

"He's tall," Amanda remarked.

"Yeah, like that's a skill set," Olivia returned to her seat at the conference table.

"And good looking," Montserrat had to add which immediately earned her a disapproving look from Olivia. "Sorry, you two have history or what?"

Olivia humorlessly laughed. "I don't date lawyers."

"Since when?" Amanda then asked which silenced Olivia and left quite a few unanswered questions for Montserrat.

A few hours later, they had Ellie and Tino in lineups for Hans to ID.

"You okay?" Olivia asked Rafael when the ADA strode into bullpen. He'd come to oversee the lineups but he didn't appear to be his regular self.

"What? I'm fine," he said dismissively but the more he tried to be casual the less successful he was.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Montserrat noticed his grim face that also seemed pale for some reason. "I'm the one whose brother's in jail, why are you so upset?"

Rafael wouldn't answer. He looked to the side and all but puffed. It was a strange sight to see him so...shaken, because that's exactly what he looked like right now. His fingers twitched even though they were inside his pockets. His eyes couldn't seem to find a spot to look at for more than a few seconds.

"Get the lineup started," he told (or rather ordered) Olivia after a few pensive seconds.

Olivia blinked and cast a look at the rest of the squad. "Uh, okay…" she rose from her seat and headed for the corridor.

"You sure you good, councilor?" Sonny asked after a few seconds of watching Rafael continue to shift in his spot.

"Yes, now stop pestering me about irrelevant things." Now granted, his snap did sound like himself but his overall appearance was more than enough to think the contrary.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today," Amanda muttered to the others as she got up.

"For that to happen, he'd actually have to sleep…" Montserrat of course expected a snap for her remark, but it never came. She frowned but before she could point out his lack of participation in their usual go, Olivia returned and announced that the lineup ready to go.

"You sure you're good?" Montserrat still managed to ask before Rafael had to follow after Olivia.

"Yes," he answered in a rushed manner, almost as if the faster he answered the quick they would all just move on from it. Well, Montserrat wasn't going to risk getting yelled at for asking again.

Hand Erhard had arrived a few minutes later, with crutches and a bruised face, and headed directly for the lineup. He recognized Ellie straightaway, but when it came to Tino...it was a miss.

"You need to start seeing Ellie as a victim," Langan trailed after Olivia when the lineup had finished, but the sergeant looked close to throwing him out. "She was pimped out at 16-"

"-she tried to pull a gun on Murphy," Olivia reminded him.

"Yeah, coerced by her pimp!"

Before the argument went further, Montserrat distanced herself due to her ringing phone. "It's Calhoun," she told the others before taking the call. Hope immediately filled her face as she answered Calhoun. Her brother could finally leave that hellhole and return to his normal life. "Tell me when I can pick him up."

But just as hope had filled her in seconds, it vanished in the same speed. If Rafael had been pale before, Montserrat beat him no questions asked. She was as white as a sheet. "What-what do you mean…?" her voice had turned frail, even her body looked as if she was swaying.

The others began to assume what Rita was telling the detective on the other line. But just like that, Montserrat bolted into a run, almost shoving Fin to the side in her run.

"Hey!?" the poor detective was left to call as he stumbled to stay on his feet.

"Something's wrong," Sonny assumed and hurried after Montserrat, prompting the others to do the same.

Montserrat had come back to the conference table where their television was on and scrambled to pick up the remote with one hand while still holding onto her phone in her other hand. She'd turned the television on and flipped to the news channel where an ongoing report was airing.

'The Florence Commercial building that collapsed two days ago has now claimed its first deaths,' the reporter was in the middle of saying, 'Two victims have been reported as deceased after being hospitalized for severe injuries…'

Montserrat fervently shook her head as if that would make it all go away. "What does that mean!?" she demanded from Rita on the phone. While the others couldn't hear Rita's words, they could pretty much assume the situation. By the time Montserrat hung up, she was ready to fall back. And seeing that prompted Sonny to pull up a chair right behind her. She fell back on it with ease, making the others wonder what would've happened if there hadn't been a chair there in the first place.

"They're going to treat this as hom...homicide…" she barely got the wretched word out. It was too disgusting.

"But you said Damian had the evidence…" Sonny said, but Montserrat shrugged in the same confusion he had.

"Everything changes when someone dies," Rafael said quietly. He looked at the others and willed them to remember their own cases and what typically happens when they had a homicide-rape on their hands.

"What the hell am I supposed to do? He's being arraigned this afternoon and then there's going to be a trial date? As if he's an actual criminal?" Montserrat frantically started to ramble. "I've got nothing to help him with. That evidence should've been enough, I…" she shook her head and let a hand cover her quiet sobs. "It should've been enough, it should've..."

The others exchanged looks with each other, all deciding they needed to help her stat. She was right in that the evidence should've been enough to get Gael out, but as Rafael pointed out...things got more complicated once there was murder. Still, it didn't mean it was impossible to prove Gael's innocence.

"Montserrat," Rafael was the one to cut the silence as he moved to Montserrat's chair. He bent down in front of her when she refused to look at anyone. "We can't help you if you don't let us," he said harsher than he would've liked, but then again that's really the only way she'd listen right now.

Montserrat only slightly lowered her hand but it was enough to showcase her reddened eyes. It was honestly a whole other side of her that neither Rafael nor the others had ever seen. "I can't do anything, weren't you listening?"

"Yes, and I think that you did the fatal mistake of listening to yourself," Rafael's counter-argument had her frowning in confusion. "You are a detective. Finding evidence is your job. That's all this is right now: you going back and finding evidence."

"Yeah except I'm usually the one who proves they're guilty," Montserrat sighed a shaky sigh.

"It doesn't mean you'd do your job worse. So listen, everyone here-" Rafael made a gesture at the others keenly watching him, "-is willing to help you but it will not make a difference if you've given up already."

"It's not that I've given up it's that…" Montserrat scrunched her face the more she tried to come up with a perfect way of describing how she felt, but all that came out was an exclaim that sounded more like a child's cry. "Dammit, Rafael, my brother's in jail and I feel like my world is crashing down on me!" Her look of anger on him didn't bother him in the least.

"And being hopeless is going to help you how?" his answer seemed to be upsetting her more.

"Councilor-" Sonny tried to intervene but Rafael pointed a finger for him not to even try interrupting. Sonny retracted his step and looked at the others with an 'I tried' expression.

However, his attempt to intervene did make Rafael realize he wasn't getting this whole 'comfort' thing. It was frustrating, honestly, because he wanted to help Montserrat. He wanted to ease her pain as much as he could but every time he opened his mouth he just made it worse. He'd never been good at that stuff. He never knew what to do.

He looked at Montserrat again, this time forcing any snaps at mind to stay away. She was still giving him that angry expression he was all too familiar with. "What time is he being arraigned?"

"Two o'clock," she answered but the mere reminder of what was to come forced most of the anger to fade from her face. New tears were threatening to roll down her face.

There came a relentless urge to hold her. It took everything he had not to do it. "I'll come with you to arraignment. We'll see exactly what Gael is being charged with and then we can work from there, okay?"

Montserrat nodded her head. "Okay. Will you actually come?"

Rafael smiled and gave her a tilted-head look. "When do I ever joke?" Now it was Montserrat's turn to smile, even if it was just for a second he would take it.

The others felt like they were witnessing something private that they needed to walk away from, but Montserrat unknowingly beat them to it. She pushed herself up from her chair and straightened herself up. She rubbed her face clear of any tears and took in a deep breath. "Okay fine. The Manhattan D.A wants a fight, I'll give them one. Hell, they've never had 2 Novaks and Calhoun all going against them, have they?"

"No," answered Rafael as he, too, straightened on his feet. "And I'd honestly wish them luck, but that wouldn't necessarily be true would it?"

"Listen, Montserrat, why don't you go and see Casey?" Fin suggested and looked back into the hallway where Olivia and Langan were still at. "We'll explain to Liv and Murphy. It's not like they'd say no."

"Honestly I'm a little fearful for the future of my job," Montserrat admitted, but even then it was evident that she would be leaving anyways. "I've been away too much…"

"Hey, we got this," Amanda assured her.

Montserrat agreed with a nod of her head and went to collect her things. It felt ridiculous that she'd just came back to work and was already taking off again but at the same time...her brother needed her. She couldn't be too far away.

"For the rest of you," Rafael looked at the remaining group with an expression akin to irritation, "You've got almost next to nothing on the Hans Erhard rape. One I.D. and it's not even the rapist."

"Are you feeling better now?" Amanda's sarcasm, that included a sarcastic smile, earned herself a glare from the ADA.

"Get something more or the case dies," he left it at that and it was only because he felt the buzz of his phone in his pocket. Soon as he took it out and saw the text message on the screen, his face turned pale again and his fingers seemed to start twitching again. He was nervous. "I have to go," he said in a mutter and made a hasty way out.

Can we have lunch today? - Yelina.

As much as he hated to, Rafael responded with a 'yes' because if he continued to say no, and blow her off, she would just come back to her office. Maybe if he had let her talk the night she appeared in his office, he wouldn't be having lunch with her now.

"You look like you've seen a ghost again," Montserrat's voice pulled Rafael's face from his phone. She was waiting for the elevator to arrive. "Which is funny because I've never seen you go that shade of color. Let me in on the secret so I can use it for later." He rolled his eyes but somewhere inside her playfulness alleviated some of his stress.

The elevator dinged and its doors slid open. Montserrat stepped inside first and waited for Rafael to follow before pressing the down button.

"Montserrat, I need to...apologize," Rafael suddenly started. Montserrat's side-glance was one akin to 'the hell are you talking about?' while he went on. "I'm not very good with...comfort words." And even now it was easy to see the struggle for Rafael to even say that. It was amazing yet ridiculous that he wasn't good with words around her, but he could easily have the right words to prosecute low-lives. Montserrat would do that to him a lot, make him question the simplest of actions he would usually take in other situations where she wasn't involved. But for Montserrat right now it was the funniest thing she ever saw on him. "I don't do a lot of comfort. And I know half of what I told you earlier was done in snaps-"

Montserrat had suddenly turned and hugged him. It was a tight hug that she'd been wanting ever since hell started with her brother's arrest, but she hadn't been brave enough to go for it. Right now, she just couldn't be bothered with the process of thinking 'should I or should I not?'. She let her chin rest on his shoulder. "You're doing just fine."

A small smile came to Rafael's face. His arms wrapped around her waist and held her tight. A few seconds later, one of his hands traveled up to her fiery hair and let his fingers stroke through her waves. Her hair was incredibly soft he imagined what it would be like running his hands through the rest of it somewhere else, somewhere nicer and private. You have to stop right there, he berated himself.

If only he knew how much his gentle touch affected her. Montserrat felt a wave of calmness wash over her within seconds of his first stroke. She wanted to him to keep holding her and just hear from him that everything was going to be fine. But she felt the elevator come to a stop, warning the two that the doors would be opening soon.

Montserrat pulled away just enough to where Rafael could still hold onto her. "You'll come to arraignment?" she asked as if she was scared that he had already changed his mind.

Rafael reassured her with a nod. "Of course. I'll be there." He brought a hand to rest on her cheek, and even when the elevator doors, his founds soothed small circles over er skin. "I promise you I'll be there."

A relieved smile spread across Montserrat's face. "Thank you. Really. You really are doing just fine." She turned away and left the elevator first, but the moment she was out her skin where his fingers had been ached for his soft touch.

Okay, maybe she felt a little better…

~0~

Alright. In and out. In and Out. Rafael was as confident as he could be when he took a seat across the woman he'd been avoiding with great difficulty. "Alright, I'm here. Let's get to it."

Yelina was no stranger to dirty looks anymore, not after the scandal that practically tore her family apart. She'd been subjected to doubtful and condescending stares, angry snaps, and the old fashion cold shoulder. But none of that she expected from Rafael. It certainly didn't make her decision to reach out to him seem like the best option, but she had a good motive.

"I'm sorry if I'm bothering you," she finally spoke a few minutes, but she noticed Rafael constantly looking around the restaurant as if they were doing something wrong. "I didn't really know what to do…"

"Really? And of all people to talk to, you chose me?"

Yelina tilted her head at him, genuinely looking upset. "Why are you treating me like this?" The choice of her softened tone almost made Rafael do a double-take at her.

"Are you - are you kidding me!?" he snapped on instinct. Not even her flinch made any effect to stop him. Actually, it might have angered him more seeing her try to be so innocent. "Do you not remember what happened? Because you do remember the part where you warned me to back off when they were investigating Alex? I had Alex on the other side going on about me trying to bring him down out of jealousy. So excuse me if I'm a little upset that now you want to act like nothing happened."

"...fair enough," Yelina released a sigh. "I didn't know that was how I came across…"

"Really?" Rafael nearly laughed. "Don't insult my intelligence, Yelina. Now can we get to the reason why you're here? Why I'm here? I have somewhere else to be."

"Please don't be this curt with me," Yelina's softness had disappeared, replaced with a more serious yet sharp expression. It was more like her, honestly. That look Rafael knew well. Whenever she was pissed off, that's the look you got. "It was hard swallowing my pride to call you and I want to believe that despite what happened...we can still be civilized friends."

"I don't know about that, to be honest." In another time, maybe Rafael would actually think about that idea, but for some reason there was no desire to stay in contact. At all. "You tried to manipulate me the last time we saw each other-"

Offense etched across Yelina's face at the accusation. "-I wasn't-"

"-yes, you were." And the worst part was, it hadn't even been him who saw it. He missed it because he - admittedly - had clung to the last bit of friendship he had with her, the last bit of nostalgia he had. Montserrat saw it, Rafael remembered perfectly the way in which he had snapped at Montserrat after she had made the comment. She'd only been looking out for him, like she always did even when he didn't deserve it. But that was Montserrat. She was always there.

"Rafael?" Yelina had been watching him for the minutes he spent in silence. There was a familiar look on his face but she didn't want to think about it too much, at least not now.

Her call did indeed pull Rafael back to the present. Soon as he was back he set for business, whatever that business might be anyways. "Why are we here?"

Yelina bit her tongue so as to not snap at his flat tone. "My husband is facing trial and God knows how many years."

"And? You're not seriously going to ask me to put in a good word for him, are you?"

"...maybe I just wanted to reach out to the only person who's willing to talk to me right now."

Rafael paused and gave her a strange look. "What?"

"You can imagine with all these accusations-"

"-and evidence," Rafael cut in with the truth, even if it did irritate her.

"Not a lot of people want anything to do with us, with me," the woman lowered her gaze. "I had to pull my daughters from their school. They're... they're the target for bullying, for hatred...I don't know what to do."

Dammit. She was being honest. She looked honest. And that's what made it difficult for Rafael to remain stoic. She could be playing tricks but right now she just looked vulnerable. In another time, that would've reeled him right to her. And the fact it didn't have the same effect right now was startling...in a good way though. It almost made him proud.

He felt the buzz of his phone in his pocket. While he checked who it was, he was aware of Yelina's hawk-stare.

Arraignment is in half an hour. Will you come? - Montserrat.

"Something important?" There was unmistakable sharpness in Yelina's question, or rather demand, and it kind of irritated him. Where did she get off being that demanding when he was doing her a favor by showing up to this awkward lunch.

"Yes, actually," Rafael sent back a quick 'yes' to Montserrat and stuffed his phone back into his pocket. "I need to go."

"We're not done," Yelina shook her head. "You haven't said anything to me except take jabs at my pain. I thought there was at least a shred of kindness you could offer me. Did I dare think too much? Is there nothing you can offer me now?" She reached her hand across the table to touch Rafael's.

The ADA flinched but he didn't pull his hand away. He was, admittedly, taken by surprise.

~0~

Montserrat was biting into her index nail to the point of drawing blood. Twice Casey had yanked Montserrat's hand down and shot her a look not to do it again.

"What are you, 5?" the ADA whisper-hissed. They were waiting in the hallway, just outside the arraignment room.

"I'm 30, stressed, and my brother's going to trial, so I will act anyway I want to!" Montserrat snapped and promptly stuck her nail between her teeth.

Casey groaned and rolled her eyes. She turned away and saw familiar figures coming down the hall towards them. "There's uncle Thomas. Least he's not alone either."

Montserrat followed her direction to see her father and Damian. "Dad," she went to hug him first.

"Hi sweetheart," Thomas hugged her tightly. He couldn't believe they were here. "How are you holding up?"

"Hm, as much as I can be," Montserrat bit her lower lip like it was gum.

"The girls, Juliana and Ivanna-"

"They're at school right now and Kara's picking them up. I'm taking care of them, Dad, I promise."

"I never said you weren't, dear. I just imagine it's difficult with your schedule…"

"I'm taking some time off."

"Again?"

Montserrat felt the underlying insinuation that she'd been missing too much work, but at the same time what was she supposed to do? Work like nothing while her brother faces criminal charges?

"It's fine, uncle Thomas," Casey said as she gave the man a quick hug. "The thing about being a cop and an ADA is that you don't have to explain a lot when you're out. People just think you're doing work."

"Or people think you're recusing yourself," a tall blonde woman appeared behind Thomas and Damian. The two men looked back then retracted the same steps so that the blonde could get through.

Soon as she saw her, Casey glared. "Geraghty," she practically spat the blonde's name out.

"I assume this is the family," Geraghty looked at the rest with icy blue eyes. "Since Casey had to recuse herself from the case due to, um, well…" her thin eyebrows twitched upwards.

"Because we're family," Casey said it just to end the woman's drama.

"Well, I'll be prosecuting the case. ADA Geraghty," she introduced herself but quickly moved into business. "You should know that I am going for reckless endangerment and Manslaughter."

"He's innocent," Montserrat said through gritted teeth, but Geraghty only smiled dismissively.

"I'll see you all in a bit," she moved on from the group and left a terse air behind.

"She seems...lovely…" Damian said quietly but Casey scoffed loudly.

"She's a bitch. And she's been after my job for a while. This is the first time I ever had to recuse myself from a case so of course she nabbed the job the moment she could."

"Casey I'm sorry," Thomas apologized but Casey scoffed again.

"Are you kidding me? Nothing will make me happier than to see her being forced to drop the charges when we prove Gael is innocent."

A short moment later, the doors were open for arraignments. Gael wouldn't be the first one to be brought out, so it left quite some time of waiting. And waiting meant a lot more thinking was done, leading to horrible thoughts.

"Did Calhoun say anything about her strategies?" Montserrat quietly asked Casey during their wait time at the benches. "I haven't been able to get in contact with her today even though I'm pretty sure I bombarded her phone with voicemails."

"Not really, but since we're on her side, it'll be good," Casey said with certainty Montserrat wished she had too.

When Gael's turn was nearing, the group decided to go inside and find a seat. The only reason Montserrat stayed behind was due to Sonny and Liv coming towards her.

"What are you guys doing here?" Montserrat blinked at their presence. "Murphy's going to have a fit when he realizes half of his employees are gone."

"Don't worry, he knows we're just here for the arraignment," Olivia said to ease the woman's concerns.

"And for anything you might need from us," added Sonny.

"Thanks," Montserrat sighed. She looked into the arraignment room with nothing but dread. "I don't know what's going to happen...the ADA is, as Casey put it, a bitch. So good luck to my brother."

"It'll be fine, c'mon," Olivia motioned Montserrat to go in first but Montserrat seemed to want to stay behind a bit longer.

"Do you need a moment?" assumed the Sergeant.

"Yeah, kinda," Montserrat nodded. It was enough to send the two in without more questions. Yes she did need a little break to herself but, if she was being honest, she was also making time.

He's late, she thought after checking the time. But even when she wanted to further fall, she berated herself. He's got things to do. Be glad he even offered to stop by. Montserrat closed her eyes for a moment, at least to calm herself down before she would have to go inside.

"Montserrat?" Rafael called when she turned for the doors. He picked up his pace to get to her on time. "I'm so sorry I'm late. I-I was…" He didn't quite want to finish that sentence for some reason, but thankfully Montserrat was overly relieved with his presence so she didn't question him at all.

"No, no! You're absolutely fine!" she exclaimed.

"We can go in whenever you're ready," Rafael made a gesture for the doors but watched her carefully for her reactions. Who knew, she might go in the opposite direction.

Montserrat took a deep breath and looked at the doors. "I gotta do it. My brother's the one in trouble. I can do this. Course I can. I can…"

When she started rambling on about the same thing, Rafael knew she was in the process of backing out. He couldn't blame her. But he did know that if she actually backed out and missed her brother's arraignment, she would never forgive herself.

"You need to go inside, Montserrat," he said softly. He met her nervous gaze and offered her an encouraging smile, and his hand.

She took his hand in a fast second. Then, with every bit of courage she owned, she led them into the arraignment room. It was just in time because Gael was being led out by one of the officers.

When the hell did Calhoun get in here!? Montserrat wondered, almost mad at herself for missing the woman. That's how absorbed she was in her own problems.

Rafael found them an open seat in the second row when Montserrat paused because her thoughts had gotten to her again. He didn't let her get away, though, and gently ushered her first.

"How does your client plead?" the judge was in the middle of asking when they finally sat down.

"Not guilty, your honor," Calhoun answered before Gael could even open his mouth. He was under strict orders not to talk at all. "The charges are seriously misplaced and when this is all over, Mr. Novak will be filing a lawsuit against 1PP and the DA's office."

"The charges of reckless endangerment and Manslaughter are hardly misplaced," Geraghty shot Calhoun an incredulous glare. But given the line of Calhoun's work, it was nothing more than a petty frown in her opinion.

"Save it for trial," the judge ordered the two women. "How are we on bail, Miss Geraghty?"

Geraghty straightened behind her spot. "Remand, your honor. The defendant has the means to flee what with his outstanding high paying job and double nationality with Slovakia."

"You have double nationality?" Rafael found himself asking Montserrat out of sheer curiosity.

Montserrat shrugged, indicating a 'yes'. "Dad's doing," she whispered. "If you have a parent from Slovakia you're eligible for dual citizenship. You want to go Slovakia some time?"

"Hm, how about we go to Cuba first?" He met her look with a smile and when she realized what they had said, she blushed and looked away.

This is not the time to do this, Montserrat, she berated herself. She forced her attention back on the arraignment and hoped to God Calhoun would come through for them this one time.

Calhoun scoffed at Geraghty's argument. "Oh please. My client is a single father of 2 girls who need him at home, not to mention he has Manhattan's own Homicide ADA Casey Novak and SVU Detective Montserrat Novak vouching for his presence. Believe me, he is not going anywhere."

"They are family," Geraghty shot Casey and Montserrat a specific look, almost accusatory. Montserrat wasn't in any condition to fight back, but Casey glared daggers back at the ADA. "And since they knew how the system works, I think remand is more than appropriate here."

Calhoun almost laughed in the woman's face. She rebutted like she normally would, only this time Montserrat was counting on her to make a damn good rebuttal that would allow her brother to come home today.

Without realizing it, Montserrat gripped Rafael's hand. She was over the top nervous and somewhere along the way, her hand had found his. She wasn't aware of it, but Rafael was. He felt the moment his hand was squeezed - which, honestly, showed she had tremendous strength - and so he did what he felt he should; what he wanted to. When she leaned on him (an attempt to listen better to Geraghty), he was just her rock, her support. He soothingly rubbed his fingers over her hand.

Sonny caught the two's closeness and couldn't help but feel a little proud that some sense had finally been knocked into them. Of course the feeling faltered when he noticed Damian's lingering look on pair. Oh right, it still pained Sonny having to keep that secret all to himself. It felt like a ticking time bomb.

~ 0 ~

"Do you have the money?" Calhoun stood in front of the group after arraignment. It was a win that remand had been discarded, however the bail money was now the issue considering it was a pretty high amount.

"No, but we'll make it work," Thomas looked at his daughter, both knowing they wouldn't have that type of amount between them.

"$50,000 is a pretty insane amount," Montserrat scowled, already mentally going through her back account to see how much she could put up.

"No it isn't," Calhoun gave her a tilted-head look. "You're just on the receiving end this time."

"Hey," Casey warned her not to even go down that road.

Calhoun raised her hands in defence. "I'm going to go find out when the court date but I suggest you don't keep him in there long. If anyone on the inside finds out he's related to an ADA and SVU detective, he's not going to be having fun."

"Maybe go for protective custody, then?" Montserrat's tone went flat, as did her face.

"What else do you think is on my to-do list?" Calhoun rolled her eyes and moved around the trio to leave.

"Are you sure she's going to help us?" Thomas was left asking.

"Don't worry Dad," Montserrat turned to her father with the best warm smile she could put on. "Calhoun is tough. She'll help us."

The trio rejoined the others near the elevator after Calhoun had left them.

"Hey, Calhoun seemed pretty sure of herself," Olivia said. "That's good."

"She's a shark," Rafael chimed in, not really sure if he was giving the woman a compliment or an insult. He wasn't used to having her on their side.

"Which means she'll do the job just fine," went Sonny.

"Now we just gotta focus on the bail money," Montserrat sighed. She dug her hands into her ginger curls, tugging on them. She might lose some hair in these next few weeks.

"Listen," Damian started, "I don't have a lot but I can put up 10 grand for the bail money."

"That's still a lot of money, Damian," Montserrat said. "I don't want you to use it all up on us. I'm sure Gael would agree."

Damien shook his head. "You're taking the money or we're going to argue over it." He gave her a smile that left no room for such arguments.

"Thanks," she hugged him.

"I can put up another 10," Casey said, breaking them apart. "I've not wasted money in a real good time considering I never have time to go out."

"I can put 15k," Thomas added. "Retirement savings. But I can get more, I'm sure. I just have to look more through my finances."

"That's $35,000," Montserrat drew in a deep breath then exhaled. "Maybe I can put up another 10. That'd just leave another 5 grand."

"We can't leave Gael in there for long," Damian said. "Why don't we get together and see if we can come up with the solution today?"

"Sounds good," Thomas agreed then looked at Montserrat.

"Go on, I'll catch up with you guys in a bit," she motioned them to get a head start.

"Thank you for coming," Thomas said to Olivia, Sonny and Rafael before leaving with Casey and Damien.

"He's right, thanks for coming," Montserrat sighed. "I'll report for work tomorrow. I promise."

"That's not necessary. You take your time out until this is solved," Olivia told her. She put a comforting hand on Montserrat's arm, offering one of her momma-bear smile that - admittedly - did make Montserrat feel a bit better. "We've got things at the precinct."

"Thanks," Montserrat said quietly. "Although honestly I don't know how long it'll be."

"Just focus on bail for now," Sonny advised. "Take it one bit at a time."

"I know but I just...I know that Casey, Dad, and Damian are putting up everything they have. Even though I'm going to put up what I have, it's not going to be enough. We're still going to be $5,000 short."

"You heard Carisi, take it one bit at a time," Rafael said. He did what Olivia had earlier and rested a hand on her arm, though Montserrat felt a lot more comfort with his touch than Olivia.

No offence to Olivia…

"Thanks for coming," Montserrat said, though there was a distinct possibility it had been only meant for Rafael this time round.

"Of course," he offered her a small smile, knowing nothing would be alleviating her pain right now. He had to come up with something to help her.

TLTNL- THE SECRET RIDDLE

Sirius detested the now familiar feeling of dread as he accepted the book from Prongs, how uneasy everyone sat on the edge of their seat, how common place it was to be starting yet another chapter with tension. It was for a random student, and that somehow made it even worse for their own past school years still somehow overlapping into Harry's life now, when all they'd ever wanted for him was a careless seven years of school free of of everything but fun. Still, he began with a forced cheerful tone of voice, no matter how dower the situation started.

Katie was removed to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries the following day, by which time the news that she had been cursed had spread all over the school, though the details were confused and nobody other than Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Leanne seemed to know that Katie herself had not been the intended target.

Oh, and Malfoy knew, said Harry to Ron and Hermione, who continued their new policy of feigning deafness whenever Harry mentioned his Malfoy-Is-a-Death-Eater theory.

"Depends on how often you bring this up on how offended you should be," Sirius said cheekily. "Once a day is a bit much pup, you only need to repeat yourself when it's relevant."

"Hark, look who's talking!" Remus looked at him, dumbfounded he could say anything so opposite to the words he constantly spewed, or more accurately, the joke he so often threw around.

"Moony, whatever do you mean?" Sirius batted his eyes innocently, still fooling no one.

Harry had wondered whether Dumbledore would return from wherever he had been in time for Monday night's lesson,

Remus scoffed at once, the desire still very present to laugh at anyone who thought Dumbledore would be late.

but having had no word to the contrary, he presented himself outside Dumbledore's office at eight o'clock, knocked, and was told to enter. There sat Dumbledore looking unusually tired;

Lily sighed softly for him. He really was getting on in age, and was now living through the same war a second time. It would be taxing on any man.

his hand was as black and burned as ever,

"I'm beginning to worry that's going to be a permanent injury," James muttered in genuine concern.

  but he smiled when he gestured to Harry to sit down. The Pensieve was sitting on the desk again, casting silvery specks of light over the ceiling.

"Are we still going through memories?" Sirius asked without much interest. "What else from his past do we really need to know?" He still wasn't entirely sure what had been relevant about the first one.

"Maybe he met someone in that orphanage he grew up in, who could be important," Lily offered.

"I can't see it," James disagreed. "If he hates Muggles, I'm betting that's where it all would have started."

"Not to mention, it's impossible to imagine Voldemort with anything resembling a friend, he just has lackeys," Remus sniffed.

Dumbledore began by asking him about his very busy week, confirming that he'd been the one to witness Katie's accident. When Harry agreed and asked how she was, he went on to explain the girl was very lucky, it had only touched the barest amount of her skin through a hole in her glove. Luckily, Professor Snape had been able to prevent the rapid spread of the curse.

"And he couldn't have taken it upon himself? For research purposes of course," James muttered bitterly. He really couldn't even think why Snape had bothered, the slime-ball had never done anything that didn't benefit him in some way.

Lily gave him a scathing look for that one though, she wished they'd show a bit more gratitude like they would any other human being doing this. She understood what had happened to Sirius and Harry last year had only worsened matters, but couldn't they at least keep it civil?

Harry asked why him? Why not Madam Pomfrey?

Phineas Nigellus' portrait called him impertinent, he'd never have allowed a student to ask such a question in his day!

"Oh how I've missed that," Sirius rolled his eyes heavily at that fart being brought up again.

Harry ignored him as Dumbledore explained Snape had far more experience with the Dark Arts.

"That is, true," Remus grudgingly agreed, though why Dumbledore had to make that sound like a good thing he couldn't fathom. After all, it was his specialty with the Dark Arts that had put him in with the Death Eaters in the first place, so clearly his superior knowledge hadn't been gained in any good light like the Order had.

St. Mungo's was sending him hourly reports, and she was expected to make a full recovery.

Harry asked where he was this weekend, but Dumbledore sidestepped, saying that would come in time.

"I should hope so, as much as he's been alluding to it from the start," James huffed, very sick of having so many answers dangled over his head.

Dumbledore pulled another vile of memories from his pocket, but Harry quickly said before he could dump them into the Pensive, telling him about Mundungus.

Dumbledore agreed he'd been made aware, and he'd gone underground after that confrontation. However, Harry need now be rest assured no more of Sirius' things would fall out of his possession.

"As if there's anything left." Sirius rolled his eyes, knowing full well any good thief would have already made off with anything of remote value.

Harry still kept going, asking if McGonagall had told Dumbledore his suspicions about Malfoy.

Harry felt an icy chill, as if a dementor had just breathed down his neck. He was just so sure, for a solid moment he was confident, but the vicious stab from within stopped him a hair's breadth before he could lock in on the idea anymore than an errant thought. He went cross-eyed, let out a vicious breath of pain, but as always was forced to wait, no matter how impatiently, for it all to make sense.

Dumbledore agreed he'd been informed, and he would be investigating anyone and everyone in Katie's accident. For now, they needed to focus on this.

Harry felt slightly resentful at this: If their lessons were so very important, why had there been such a long gap between the first and second?

"Yeah, I can agree with that," Sirius said with all the cheer he could. No one had missed Harry's little problem over there, but they were leaving him to it as clearly he was controlling whatever was troubling his mind.

However, he said no more about Draco Malfoy, but watched as Dumbledore poured the fresh memories into the Pensieve and began swirling the stone basin once more between his long-fingered hands.

Dumbledore began by reminding where the story had left off, that young Merope had been in London, expecting.

Harry asked how he knew she'd been in London.

In answer, he swilled the contents of the Pensieve as Harry had seen him swill them before, much as a gold prospector sifts for gold. Up out of the swirling, silvery mass rose a little old man revolving slowly in the Pensieve, silver as a ghost but much more solid, with a thatch of hair that completely covered his eyes.

Dumbledore explained this as Caractacus Burke, founder of the shop whence the very necklace they'd just been discussing had come from.

The man spoke, revolving slowly on the spot as all like him did in the Pensive, of her coming along trying to sell Slytherin's locket. He'd been skeptical of course, but upon finding the real thing, gave her ten Galleons for it. Best deal he'd ever made.

"That's, practically thievery!" Lily yelped in a mixture of shock and disgust.

"That's the Burke store we know and loath," James agreed, his face drawn for this poor woman who had probably never even been outside her house before all this. That ten Galleons was likely the most gold she ever saw in her life, and she likely put it all to her infant. This all managed to grow more depressing the more he thought about it, that Merope may have actually made a good mother if she'd survived.

Dumbledore gave the Pensieve an extra-vigorous shake and Caractacus Burke descended back into the swirling mass of memory from whence he had come.

Harry was outraged for that price, but Dumbledore explained the circumstances of her being alone and pregnant, desperate for anything to get her through.

Harry insisted she could do magic, she could have gotten food or anything else she wanted.

"Not necessarily," Remus frowned in confusion of Harry. "The Weasley's situation should be enough for you to realize magic doesn't make us all at ease with life."

Harry wanted to persist his point, that the Weasleys struggled for money because of spellbooks and other things they had no choice but to buy, but food and other things should come along with much more ease? Then he really realized whom he was speaking with, and shut his trap. He'd never asked Remus for specifics of his life outside of here, and he didn't feel it his place to. You didn't need to, to grasp how hard life had been on him. Merope, an unpracticed witch with no one else to help, would have it even worse.

Dumbledore agreed perhaps, but it was of his guessing again that Merope had stopped using magic when Tom Sr. left her, she no longer wanted to be a witch.

James shook his head slowly as he heard that, he couldn't even imagine it. With the way Meropes life had gone though, he could almost see why she'd think that. Still, he wasn't convinced Dumbledore had the mark on this one, he could picture any number of things going on with her situation.

It could have been more reasons, her emotions so in despair it had sapped her powers, that had been known to happen. In any case, they were about to witness the results of Merope in the act of refusing to raise her wand, even to save her own life.

"She may not have even been able to, or known how," Lily said quietly as she brushed at her hair. "Birthing a child can be quite the complicated thing, if there aren't doctors around any number of problems could arise. She may have even just been sick, not taking care of herself properly, there's really no telling what magic could have done for her even if she had been around it."

Harry quietly asked, she wouldn't even stay alive for her son?

Lily's breath caught hard in her throat, she felt smothered at the very mention of this. Her own final words echoed through her mind, that she was willing to die for her child, leaving him without his parents as she'd know full well. She had to force herself to stop there, lest the pain of it all push into the here and now, reminding herself that whatever this woman's situation, no matter how much it was like her own, had already happened. Her's hadn't. Even if she had to choose the same in the end, it would still be her choice.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, asking if this could be Harry feeling sorry for Lord Voldemort?

"Pity for the mother doesn't quite spew out into the spawn," Sirius huffed.

Harry quickly disagreed, he was just saying she'd had a choice, unlike his mother.

"Of course I did!" Harry's mother's voice came out a sharp snap, and he looked startled, even wounded for it. She'd kept herself very well put together, he'd had no idea what she'd been thinking of moments ago. "I could have, have-" she couldn't even say the despicable words, of letting Voldemort take him from her. "But I didn't, and I never would. There's always a choice Harry."

"I'm sorry," he whispered, the only thing he could offer for his question he hadn't really thought through. The echo of the dementors again played through his mind. Voldemort had told her to step aside, and she'd refused, hence his very life he breathed now.

Dumbledore gently reminded she'd had a choice too.

Lily's face only burned that much more, that Dumbledore had to be the one to remind him of that. The loss of the life Harry had been deprived of never got easier to hear, that his headmaster would be the one to say that to him.

So had Merope, and she'd chosen death in spite of the son she was leaving behind. He asked Harry not to judge her too harshly, she did not have the same courage as Lily Potter had.

Dumbledore rose then, and Harry asked where they were going now.

Dumbledore said into his own memory. He should find it rich in detail and satisfyingly accurate.

Sirius snorted loudly, just to help ease some of the tension back out of the room for someone else showing such a high opinion of themselves. He was still ignored.

Harry bent over the Pensieve; his face broke the cool surface of the memory and then he was falling through darkness again. . . . Seconds later, his feet hit firm ground; he opened his eyes and found that he and Dumbledore were standing in a bustling, old-fashioned London street.

Dumbledore brightly, pointed himself out, a tall figure crossing the road in front of a horse-drawn milk cart.

This younger Albus Dumbledore's long hair and beard were auburn. Having reached their side of the street, he strode off along the pavement, drawing many curious glances due to the flamboyantly cut suit of plum velvet that he was wearing.

"I'm sure he was very hard to spot, you obviously needed this guidance," James did get a chuckle out of that at least, wrapping one arm tighter still around his wife who still looked distant.

Harry complimented the suite before he could stop himself, but Dumbledore merely chuckled as they followed his younger self a short distance,

Sirius full out laughed for that, while Harry didn't look remotely abashed.

finally passing through a set of iron gates into a bare courtyard that fronted a rather grim, square building surrounded by high railings. He mounted the few steps leading to the front door and knocked once.

"Who only knocks once?" Remus muttered at that random detail.

After a moment or two, the door was opened by a scruffy girl wearing an apron.

Dumbledore introduced himself, and asked to speak to the matron. The woman appraised him for a moment before bellowing at the top of her lungs over her shoulder for a Mrs. Cole.

The boys had no more been expecting Sirius to shout that at the top of his lungs, but Lily still managed to startle hardest of all, right out of her revere.

"Was that necessary?" She demanded of him.

"Yes," he agreed without looking over, but a satisfied smirk none-the-less in place he had her full, undivided attention again.

Harry heard a distant voice shouting something in response. The girl turned back to Dumbledore and invited him in.

Dumbledore stepped into a hallway tiled in black and white; the whole place was shabby but spotlessly clean. Harry and the older Dumbledore followed. Before the front door had closed behind them, a skinny, harassed-looking woman came scurrying toward them. She had a sharp-featured face that appeared more anxious than unkind, and she was talking over her shoulder to another aproned helper as she walked toward Dumbledore.

She was prescribing new sheets for Eric, who was oozing from those chicken pox of his.

"Did, chickens attack them?" James asked slowly, with genuine concern for wherever this place was.

"No, it's a Muggle disease, makes your skin get red spots all over that itch." Lily shrugged, recalling her fascination as a youngster when her whole class had them for a time except her, even Petunia had gotten them.

"What's that have to do with chickens?" He prodded further, pleased more than anything she was back to chatting with them again without that horror of her future in her eyes, or some secret she wasn't sharing with them in her smile.

"It's more like, it sort of looks like a chickens pecked you all over," she tried to visualize it for him, but when James just looked more baffled than ever she burst into giggles and waved Sirius on.

Then her eyes fell upon Dumbledore and she stopped dead in her tracks, looking as astonished as if a giraffe had just crossed her threshold.

"That's about as likely with this man around," Sirius agreed.

Mrs. Cole blinked. Apparently deciding that Dumbledore was not a hallucination,

"I still have those moments," James agreed, deciding for now to stop lingering on the idea of a chicken chasing a bundle of kids around.

she said feebly, to come up to her office.

She led Dumbledore into a small room that seemed part sitting room, part office. It was as shabby as the hallway and the furniture was old and mismatched. She invited Dumbledore to sit on a rickety chair and seated herself behind a cluttered desk, eyeing him nervously.

Dumbledore spoke of the reason for his visit, Tom Riddle.

She asked if he was family, and Dumbledore explained no, he was a teacher and here to place Tom in his school, Hogwarts.

"I'm surprised he didn't lie about that," Harry said, wondering if all normal exchanges went like this, rather than Hagrid bursting a door down for him.

"He's no reason to," Remus reminded, "even if she went and looked it up, Dumbledore would produce some paperwork for her."

She asked why the interest, and he explained his name had been down since he was born. When Mrs. Coal continued to be skeptical of this, he produced a blank sheet of paper and handed it to her. Her eyes lost focus for a moment as she 'read' it over, but handed it back saying that was all in order.

Harry gaped at that one, looking wildly around for some kind of explanation, while they all laughed at his expression. It was still nice to see him confounded by magic.

"I didn't say it was useful paperwork," Remus said around more laughter, as if that was all the explanation needed.

Harry rolled his eyes but let it go, deciding it was enough explanation for now. Obviously he still had more to learn in his next year of school.

Then her eyes fell upon a bottle of gin and two glasses that had certainly not been present a few seconds before. She offered him a glass regardless, and he happily accepted.

It soon became clear that Mrs. Cole was no novice when it came to gin drinking. Pouring both of them a generous measure, she drained her own glass in one gulp. Smacking her lips frankly, she smiled at Dumbledore for the first time, and he didn't hesitate to press his advantage.

He asked of Tom Riddle's history? He was born here in this orphanage?

Mrs. Coal agreed, saying she remembered it clearly, that New Year's Eve. She'd just started.

"Oh good, I always wanted to know his birthday," Sirius said dryly.

"We're dishing out plenty of socks this holiday, I'm sure we can ship along a pair for him," James rolled his eyes.

"Poisonous socks," Remus muttered, causing Harry to snort in surprise and James and Sirius to exchange a heavily amused smirk. Harry clearly hadn't heard all of Remus' mutters, but he would be now.

This girl had arrived staggering up the steps. Didn't take long after that, the baby had been delivered in an hour, and she was dead in the next.

That really was just, sad. Sirius could have connected many things to the moment of birthing Voldemort into their world, but honestly the start to it all was so depressing! The megalomaniac would be carrying that on to this day and never let them forget it, it seemed.

Dumbledore asked if she'd had any last words, and Mrs. Cole spoke only of what she'd named the boy. She'd first hoped he'd look like his papa, and Mrs. Cole wouldn't lie, this mother was no beauty.

"Lovely," Lily said tartly.

and then she told he was to be named Tom, for his father, and Marvolo, for her father.

James's mouth still twisted with a nasty sneer for that. No child should be named for such a creature as that Gaunt...though he supposed if there was one exception it was Voldemort.

They'd wondered whether she came from a circus,

"Not far off honestly," Remus huffed.

and she said the boy's surname was to be Riddle. She died soon after that without another word.

No one of any of those names had ever come looking for the boy, so here he'd stayed. She continued without prompting he was a funny boy.

Dumbledore asked for specifics, and he got them. He hadn't cried as a baby-

But Mrs. Cole pulled up short, and there was nothing blurry or vague about the inquisitorial glance she shot Dumbledore over her gin glass.

She confirmed he had a place at this school? Nothing she spoke of now would change that?

Dumbledore agreed.

She squinted at him as though deciding whether or not to trust him. Apparently she decided she could, because she said in a sudden rush he scared the other children.

"Oh joy, so he really was a psychopath even as a kid," James muttered in disgust. Why were they listening to this again? It was only more of a reminder where Harry could have ended up, where he almost had and should have been rather than with those Dursleys who cared nothing for him. At least this Mrs. Cole had a clear concern for the kids in her care.

Dumbledore clarified he was a bully?

Mrs. Cole suspected it, but she'd never caught him in the act, some very nasty stories though. Billy Stubbs rabbit hadn't hung itself from those rafters.

Lily choked in shock while all of the boys grimaced uncomfortably. A murderer indeed, even as a child, for something like an animal was never a good start to life.

She was jiggered though if she could figure out how he'd done it. Then there had been that summer outing, taking all the orphans to the beach. Amy and Dennis had gone off with Tom to explore some caves, they'd never been the same when they'd come back.

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the tight pull on his mind sharp once again for something he was sure he should have been connecting with, but he just ran his hand through his hair in agitation and wished his mind to shut up with its uselessness.

She looked around at Dumbledore again, and though her cheeks were flushed from all the gin consumed, her gaze was steady. She told without remorse not many would be sorry to see the back of him.

Dumbledore explained this was not permanent, he would have to return here, at least over his summer holidays.

Mrs. Cole called that better than a rusty poker whack on the nose.

She got up then, surprisingly steady on her feet, though two-thirds of the bottle were gone, and asked if he'd like to see the boy?

Dumbledore agreed at once.

She led him out of her office and up the stone stairs, calling out instructions and admonitions to helpers and children as she passed. The orphans, Harry saw, were all wearing the same kind of grayish tunic. They looked reasonably well-cared for, but there was no denying that this was a grim place in which to grow up.

"Sounds better off than you were," Lily muttered so quietly she didn't even seem to realize she'd said it, but James heard, tightening his arm all the more around her as he realized they'd been thinking the same thing.

As they turned off the second landing and stopped outside the first door in a long corridor. She knocked twice and entered, telling Tom this was Mr. Dunderbore.

"I'm going to start calling him that," Sirius said at once with conviction.

Harry and the two Dumbledore's entered the room,

James got a good chuckle out of that.

and Mrs. Cole closed the door on them. It was a small bare room with nothing in it except an old wardrobe and an iron bedstead. A boy was sitting on top of the gray blankets, his legs stretched out in front of him, holding a book.

There was no trace of the Gaunts in Tom Riddle's face. Merope had got her dying wish: He was his handsome father in miniature, tall for eleven years old, dark-haired, and pale.

"Urgh, that's almost as bad as his squashed snake face he has now," Sirius said in disgust for Dumbledore trying to humanize this constant Bludger on their life. The full force of his words wouldn't hold though, he could deny no more than anyone this was still just a kid, even one that had already grown up to be what they knew. He wanted to hate him on principle, but while it was there, it was not the only thing he could focus on.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he took in Dumbledore's eccentric appearance. There was a moment's silence.

Dumbledore spoke first, asking how he was doing, holding out his hand to be shaken.

The boy hesitated, then took it, and they shook hands. Dumbledore drew up the hard wooden chair beside Riddle, so that the pair of them looked rather like a hospital patient and visitor.

Dumbledore continued, using his title now, but Riddle repeated this sharply. He started throwing out all manner of accusations, thinking Dumbledore a doctor? Had that women sent someone to look at him?

"I'm sure he needs it," James huffed.

He was pointing at the door through which Mrs. Cole had just left.

Dumbledore tried to politely deny this, but Riddle shouted at him to tell the truth!

"What an impertinent child," Lily huffed, thinking he could speak to any adult that way.

He spoke the last three words with a ringing force that was almost shocking. It was a command, and it sounded as though he had given it many times before. His eyes had widened and he was glaring at Dumbledore, who made no response except to continue smiling pleasantly. After a few seconds Riddle stopped glaring, though he looked, if anything, warier still. He asked who Dumbledore was?

Dumbledore repeated his title, and explained his place in Hogwarts as a teacher.

Riddle's reaction to this was most surprising. He leaped from the bed and backed away from Dumbledore, looking furious. He shouted this was some trick to get him in an asylum!

"I'd like to lock you in one surely, it's to bad Dumbledore didn't have the forethought," Remus sniffed.

Riddle insisted he hadn't done anything, and Dumbledore could ask the others for proof!

Dumbledore patiently explained he was not from an asylum, and nobody was forcing Tom to do anything.

"I know Dumbledore's calm about everything," Sirius said with only mild sarcasm, "but now I'm wondering just how many people think they're being shipped off to a nut house. Personally I wouldn't have minded so much, couldn't be worse than the one I grew up in."

Riddle sneered he'd like to see them try.

"More like try to force him out," Lily said bitterly.

"That basilisk couldn't have gotten him rather than Myrtle," James agreed.

Dumbledore continued Hogwarts was a place for people with special abilities, not a school for mad people.

"Eh," Sirius waved his hand vaguely, eyeing his best friend obviously. "A lot of them do seem to wind up there."

"You're the poster child," James agreed without looking over.

It is a school of magic.

There was silence. Riddle had frozen, his face expressionless, but his eyes were flickering back and forth between each of Dumbledore's, as though trying to catch one of them lying.

"He was, looking at, each of his, eyes?" Remus muttered in confusion.

"I don't get it, did Dumbledore have a lazy eye during this conversation..." James trailed off in confusion.

"We always knew he was mad," Sirius shrugged without concern.

He repeated magic in a whisper. That's what he could do?

Dumbledore kindly asked what was it he could do exactly?

Riddle breathed with excitement now, how he could make things move without touching them, make animals do what he wanted without training them. He could hurt people, if he wanted to.

This really hadn't been very funny to begin with, and the feeling just continued to grow worse with each passing moment this little Tom spoke.

"Bloody hell, he's a menace," Sirius noted like he was eyeing a coming storm.

"What, made him like that," Remus was grasping for words he wasn't even sure there was an answer for. "I'd have thought we'd seen evidence by now the kids picked on him because he was magic, that's why he'd hate them, but from everything we've heard it's the complete opposite. He's using magic against them because, he likes it!"

"I, I really must wonder if it wasn't that love potion." Lily said hoarsely. "I keep thinking, over and over, I've never heard of a child being conceived under the influence of one. Maybe it had, some effect on the child then."

"Oh great, so not only did she refuse to even look for an option to stay alive for the child she forced into this world, it's all her fault it was this way from the start!" Sirius was getting angrier at Merope by the second, looking for something to vent on that wasn't a kid. It still wasn't easy, he couldn't even work himself into a proper temper because the image kept lingering of some girl Lily's age, their age, without anyone to care for or turn to.

"Sirius." He didn't need the soft rebuke James gave, but it still helped cool him, preventing anything else that could have come next.

"I still don't see a solution in all this," Remus sighed. "Is there a cure? If there was and he'd actually feel something resembling human emotions again, would it even matter, it certainly wouldn't really make up for all the crimes he's committed."

"You'd think Dumbledore would have recognized all this himself before inviting him to learn more magic to do more harm," James agreed.

"Maybe he thought he could, I don't know, fix him, help him, certainly not make him a monster." Sirius finished, while Harry felt Remus flinch slightly beside him. He glanced over in surprise, but didn't understand that look he quickly hid from his face before the other two could see it.

Sirius certainly hadn't anymore to say on this though, what had happened, happened, and he honestly doubted he'd see anything in Dumbledore's own memory the man wouldn't have already spotted, so when no one else offered anything he kept going restlessly for this to be over. Not that anything else going on in Harry's life was much more fun to be getting to.

His legs were trembling. He stumbled forward and sat down on the bed again, staring at his hands, his head bowed as though in prayer.

He'd always known he was different, special.

"Most of our kind do," Lily agreed softly. Agreed with Voldemort of all people! She never forgot though, those years before that weird kid Snape on the block had finally tracked her down and told her what she was. How, special, she'd been, unable to help but use Voldemort's own choice of word in understanding.

Dumbledore agreed he was right, though he was no longer smiling as he told Tom Riddle he was a wizard.

Riddle asked if he was one as well, and when Dumbledore agreed, Riddle at once told him to prove it in the same tone as he'd told him to tell the truth.

Dumbledore asked if this meant he was taking his place in Hogwarts then?

When Riddle snapped of course, Dumbledore imposed on him this would then mean he would be referred to as Professor, or Sir.

Riddle's expression hardened for the most fleeting moment before he said, in an recognizably polite voice, how sorry he was, and then properly asked him to show him some magic.

"Urgh," Sirius' nose crinkled in disgust for not only that mockery of politeness he'd so used as well. He hated any idea he'd done anything remotely similar to this cretin.

Harry was sure that Dumbledore was going to refuse, that he would tell Riddle there would be plenty of time for practical demonstrations at Hogwarts, that they were currently in a building full of Muggles and must therefore be cautious.

"No," Lily corrected. "Much like Hagrid setting that grate aflame for you, a little magic is always allowed in the beginning, to ah, prove a point I should say."

To his great surprise, however, Dumbledore drew his wand from an inside pocket of his suit jacket, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe in the corner, and gave the wand a casual flick.

The wardrobe burst into flames.

Riddle jumped to his feet; Harry could hardly blame him for howling in shock and rage; all his worldly possessions must be in there.

"Oh, Dumbledore wouldn't really," James scoffed at once.

"Still, certainly not a kind trick on the kid," Sirius began, before his words caught up with him and he finished venomously, "other than this one."

But even as Riddle rounded on Dumbledore, the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged.

Riddle stared from the wardrobe to Dumbledore; then, his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand, demanding where he could get one of those.

Dumbledore agreed all in good time, but for now, it seemed something was trying to escape that wardrobe.

Sure enough, a faint rattling could be heard from inside it.

A soft snort of laughter echoed around, before Remus spoke up what they were all wondering, "what did Dumbledore do?"

Sirius shushed him, they were now all listening more intently than ever. Here, something could finally show to be the purpose of all this, something Voldemort actually cared for?

For the first time, Riddle looked frightened.

Dumbledore instructed him to open the door.

Riddle hesitated, then crossed the room and threw open the wardrobe door. On the topmost shelf, above a rail of threadbare clothes, a small cardboard box was shaking and rattling as though there were several frantic mice trapped inside it.

Tom was encouraged further to take it out.

Riddle took down the quaking box. He looked unnerved.

Dumbledore asked if there was anything in that box he shouldn't have?

Riddle agreed.

Harry couldn't help half shouting in his excitement, "what kind of magic is that? How did Dumbledore even know to use that spell, to know that wasn't his?"

It was rather odd to be sure, seeing Harry getting so worked up over magic as if he were eleven himself again, but James still answered, "certainly there's a few spells one could do to check ownership of a few objects. After all Mrs. Cole and Riddle himself said, I'm not terribly surprised he's stolen things from kids as well."

Harry waved Sirius on impatiently now, knowing something massive was coming.

Riddle took off the lid and tipped the contents onto his bed without looking at them. Harry, who had expected something much more exciting, saw a mess of small, everyday objects: a yo-yo, a silver thimble, and a tarnished mouth organ among them.

The others merely looked more baffled than ever why Voldemort had cared about such things, when it had been clear nobody of significance in his life had left him any of that. Souvenirs, perhaps, from his time in that orphanage? Though they'd been given no inkling so far he valued anyone, certainly not close enough to be given a gift.

Harry however looked ecstatic, his eyes lighting with some dim understanding he couldn't yet fully grasp, but did not need any extra sense telling him to pay attention now, he was riveted.

Once free of the box, they stopped quivering and lay quite still upon the thin blankets.

Dumbledore calmly said he was to return those to the owner, and he would know if this wasn't done. Thievery was not tolerated at Hogwarts.

Riddle did not look remotely abashed;

"Of course not, that's an actual human emotion," James muttered in disgust, honestly believing Lily's theory more every line. Did he have any emotion in him? Obviously he did, as Harry had been all to painfully aware of last year, but then what was this...this lack of humanity pouring from such a young soul? There was just no way this was natural, as if he'd ever needed that confirmed considering what Voldemort was now.

he was still staring coldly and appraisingly at Dumbledore. At last he agreed in a colorless voice.

Dumbledore continued Hogwarts was a place to learn control of magic. Before, he had surely only inadvertently been using his powers for anything of ill intent, but this would not be tolerated at school.

"Inadvertently I'm sure," Sirius mock quoted.

Such acts could cause expulsion. Tom was not the first to have his magic run wild, but now he knew the truth, if this continued the Ministry of Magic would punish this severely.

"Starting with all the good threats, then," Harry huffed.

"Not that it did him any good," Remus agreed with heavy sarcasm, not missing the irony Harry had been under threat of both, where as likely the perfect Tom Riddle they'd heard of in the past never had.

All new wizards must accept that, in entering our world, they abide by our laws.

Riddle politely agreed.

It was impossible to tell what he was thinking; his face remained quite blank as he put the little cache of stolen objects back into the cardboard box. When he had finished, he turned to Dumbledore and said baldly he hadn't any money.

Dumbledore drew a leather money-pouch from his pocket, explaining there was a fund for that. He may have to buy some of his things second hand, such as spellbooks-

Riddle interrupted where to buy such things, without thanking him for the money he was now holding.

Lily tisked quietly, but considering the many unspeakable things he had, or in this case would do, it really was a passing insult to her.

He was now examining a fat gold Galleon.

Dumbledore explained Diagon Alley, he could escort him there?

Riddle said that wasn't necessary, he traveled London all the time by himself, then caught himself and more politely asked for directions.

Harry thought that Dumbledore would insist upon accompanying Riddle, but once again he was surprised. Dumbledore handed Riddle the envelope containing his list of equipment, and after telling Riddle exactly how to get to the Leaky Cauldron from the orphanage,

Lily couldn't help the clear disapproval that time though, cutting off with a heavier scoff. "He's just a boy, surely he needs supervision."

"Maybe it would have stopped him growing an early interest in places like Knockturn Alley," Harry agreed, vividly remembering their protest of his short time alone there at eleven.

"I think that's already been set in stone," Sirius disagreed with an eye roll. "Besides, the kid turned down the help, I certainly wouldn't stop him not minding himself and getting run over."

Lily turned her scowl on him but couldn't really snap for that. She still couldn't make it sit right in her head like he so clearly could, this was still just a kid.

and finished he'd have the right place when he found Tom the barman, easy enough to remember. They shared a name.

Riddle gave an irritable twitch, as though trying to displace an irksome fly.

Dumbledore caught on, asking that he dislike the name Tom?

Riddle muttered there were a lot of Tom's, before asking if Dumbledore had known his father? He'd been told his name was Tom Riddle.

Dumbledore gently said he had no knowledge of this person, and Riddle continued it must be his father. It couldn't be his mother, or she wouldn't have died, she couldn't be magic.

All five of them frowned, another wash of sympathy for the soul that was Tom Riddle. They didn't know what to call that moment. Innocence, for his lack of knowledge that even magic could never really stop that? Callousness on his mother's behalf? It was certainly a true foreshadowing of his future nature.

Riddle changed the subject then, asking about getting to Hogwarts, and Dumbledore explained that was all on the ticket, and the date of the departure from King's Cross.

Riddle nodded. Dumbledore got to his feet and held out his hand again.

"I guess I should feel flattered it's not just Hagrid who leaves out the detail about that barrier," Harry muttered for himself.

Taking it, Riddle said he could speak to snakes. Was that normal?

Harry could tell that he had withheld mention of this strangest power until that moment, determined to impress.

"Why would he think that would impress him?" Remus asked with a lingering frown for the boys logic. "He's already mentioned he could control animals at will, and Dumbledore hadn't really reacted to that. Why would speaking to a particular species be of anymore significance?"

"Your guess is as good as ours," Sirius reminded.

Dumbledore hesitated for a moment before saying it was unusual, but not unheard of. Then Dumbledore made his departure, and Harry and Dumbledore did as well, landing squarely in the present-day office.

They both sat down, and Harry said Riddle had believed that faster than him. He hadn't believed Hagrid at first.

"I'm sure a wide range of reactions exist out there," Lily agreed absently. She'd thought Snape a loon until she'd been convinced, Harry had taken some convincing, and Riddle had believed it instantly. It sort of made her want to do a study on all the varied reactions a Muggleborn could have, if it wasn't so thoroughly depressing her son had found himself in that category.

Harry then simply asked if Dumbledore had known?

Dumbledore elaborated, had he known he'd just met the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time?

"I'd, be genuinely impressed if he did." Remus muttered.

"I'm sure if he had, he wouldn't have let his life go on as long as he had," James said belligerently.

Lily wasn't so sure, thinking about what had been said earlier and Dumbledore's willingness to try and help others. What was the point of no return for him then? Was there one?

No, he had not. The evidence had been very plain and upfront there was something about him, that led him to strangling animals and seeking isolation and dominance over his peers. Harry interjected he was also a Parselmouth.

"You already knew that?" James frowned at Harry in confusion why he'd pointed this out.

"Suppose up until that point I would have thought he wouldn't realize it until later in life," Harry shrugged.

Dumbledore agreed, but his ability to speak to serpents did not make him nearly as uneasy as his obvious instincts for cruelty, secrecy, and domination.

"I'd hope so," they all muttered agreement to that.

He noticed the late hour then, and said before they departed for the night, he wanted to make sure Harry had noted a few things. Firstly, his aversion to having the name Tom.

"I'll be sure to give him a more original name," Sirius said deadpan.

"Why not even go from another anagram of his own," James answered with a smirk Lily was already trying to read around, though not before he started with, "I've noticed a certain few letters spell out the word-"

She didn't care enough to let him finish.

Harry nodded.

He also highlighted his ability of being self-sufficient. He had no help, and no want of it. Many of his current Death Eaters claimed they alone were in his confidence, but Dumbledore was sure this was an allusion. Voldemort had never had a friend, nor he believed, did he ever want one.

Putting this into the perspective of his adult self was helping them really, it certainly pushed off their confusion at that notion and put disgust right back in place discussing this vile plague on humanity in their life.

Lastly, that box of stolen articles from the children in the orphanage, his trophies, souvenirs even, of particular acts of his unpleasant magic.

"I, can see what he's going for," Remus said slowly, his eyes suddenly widening at the possibility. They'd been half right in their guess, but gotten the motive wrong then.

"I'm still not sure what the point of those are," Sirius had his head cocked to the side curiously. "So he does value objects then, nicked something from people he's murdered, maybe. Would stealing his closet full of knick-knacks of the dead put him off enough for us to kill him then?"

James laughed at the absurd way Sirius managed to phrase that, but Harry was sitting right on the edge of his seat now, his face trained on the book while his godfathers words spiraled sickeningly in his head, forbidden to look upon, longing to know.

Harry should bear in mind this magpie-like tendency, for this, particularly, would be important later.

"Well Dumbledore certainly thinks so," Lily sighed, wishing the man would just spit it out no matter the hour, this felt more important than a bedtime. She didn't like the bead of sweat her son didn't even seem aware of tracing down his taught face.

Harry was dismissed, and he got to his feet to leave. He stopped however, when he saw the ring was no longer there. He turned back to Dumbledore curiously, and asked if he'd tracked down the mouth organ next?

Dumbledore approved of Harry's guess, but corrected that mouth organ, had only ever been a mouth organ.

Harry swallowed loudly, but no one needed that to feel the tension all along the room. What else had that ring been then? Lily read the final line carefully,

On that enigmatic note he waved to Harry, who understood himself to be dismissed.

but when it yielded no good results she turned to the others for some kind of explanation that was certainly evading her.

━♡ guess the 20 YEAR OLD MAY baby just arrived to dallyeog! it makes sense, because PARK JAE-SUNG is just as SUNNY as the month of MAY. wait, why do they remind me of LEE WOO-JIN ( TARGET ) ? beyond that, they seemed SPIRITED and PATIENT upon first glance. i heard someone say they’re sort of HAREBRAINED and WISHY-WASHY though. i hope they get acquainted here in COMPLEX # 2 / APARTMENT # 5 / FLOOR # 3 ; HE seems to have a lot going on with HIS job as STUDENT. ( qiu, 18+, they/he/she, est. ) 

hello hello everyone !! i’m qiu and any pronouns are cool w me !!! this is my first krp (tbh first rp in a solid bit) so i might get confused here and there but the admins here are sososo helpful so hopefully nothing will throw me off too bad !! im happy to be here and my dms are always open !! though tbh i do prefer to use discord bc sometimes tumblr likes to commit crimes and eat messages </3 just hmu and ill give you it or add you!! if i dont reply to an im in like a day pls send an ask !! 

i have an about pg that ill work on a little more but ill just write out a short little thing here to get the blog going !

! SUMMARY/TRIVIA ! [⤍ park jae-sung ● 20 yrs old ● uni student ]

- likes to be occupied ;; fully the type to be cooking a full course meal at four am just because he was studying and just needed to do anything else. also the type to let anyone in to eat it ! - non-native ;; from the u.s.! it’s actually his first year in korea ever so his korean can be odd-sounding a lot as even though it’s his native language, it’s not actually the one(english) he knows best !! when speaking in english, he has a southern accent - money-saver ;; buys things in sets exclusively to save money!! he’s more of the frugal type tbh when it comes to things other than bills !! if he recognizes you pls expect him to have random things on him that he’ll offer you like a grandpa offering his grandchild twenty dollars - skillfully independent ;; after living majority of his life mainly on his own, jae-sung can do housework fairly well as well as cook !! not super well, but it tastes better than worse most of the time !!!  - hug-bug ;; if you give him the go-ahead, he’s incredibly physically affectionate !! it’s to the point sometimes he doesn’t even notice, like placing a hand on someone’s back or their own hand ! though, since he’s in korea now, courtesy of his parents’ advice, he’s been trying to rein it in a little ! but no matter w who, he likes to hold hands or hug or link arms or give a bro kiss or anything similar !! - romance averted ;; it’s not that he’s trying to avoid thinking or anything about it, it’s that it honestly doesn’t have much place in his life at all, so it’s never the first thing to come to mind. unfortunately, he’ll gal-pal everyone, assuming everyone are just friends up until people tell him explicitly otherwise - indecisive ;; there really is no choice he feels 100% on. as soon as anyone suggests anything else, he’s quick to switch over, even if he already had a position. the things he can’t change on are things he’s always been mulling over - reckless ;; jae-sung loves to do whatever to distract himself, and it’s pretty obvious in how he literally leaps from building to building away from home. he has a deep love for freerunning, and he’s good at it too (even has a yt channel where he posts a lot of it!), though it doesn’t look it; he always has some bruises or cuts on him. he also loves to try out any sort of trick w any sport such as skateboarding or iceskating!! falling is just part of the fun to him - responsible ;; yeah, it’s a little weird to follow w this, but he really is !! he’s responsible in the ohhhhh crap i have to start on this essay now if i want to be done in time pls learn from me everyone :pensive: type of way. he more so encourages and helps other people to be able to manage themselves, however, sometimes he should really follow his own advice when it comes to self-care.

! WANTED CONNECTIONS ! [ heres the pg for it but it’s all the same prompts word for word tbh ] 

- family first ;; you’re family ! it tbh doesn’t matter what branch of the family you are or anything else, you’re family that maybe met jae-sung over a whatsapp or fb messenger videocall when y’all were young once ! or they can be super close, tbh i dont mind whatever !! - lending a hand ;; jae-sung has a habit of taking care of others first before anything else. whether or not your muse is consciously taking advantage of that, to your muse, jae-sung helps out by giving food or doing chores w you or letting you stay over or any other small job !! this can also work the other way around ! - opposites attract ;; yeah <3 maybe your muse is cold or the rebellious type or anything !!  - guide ;; jae-sung is new to the city and your chara helps jae-sung go out and learn the areas around !!  - buddies ;; i am already running out of ideas </3 but !! this is just someone (or multiple people!!) who jae-sung is constantly over at their place or they’re constantly over at jae-sung’s !! while they don’t have to enjoy every death-defying stunt jae-sung attempts, they still come along ! y’all are just buds who hang out !!  - internet friend ;; the two of you have a history that’s mostly written !! we can work out details !! - lost and found ;; he dropped a notebook and when you saw it on the ground, maybe you picked it up, maybe not, you saw a bad drawing. the highlighter is not even in the pencil lines. he’s sort of embarrassed about it at first, but offers to draw a portrait of you anyways just to find anything to move onto  - brother figure ;; to jae-sung, you’re a sibling figure. what that entails is up to you !!  - wait what? ;; jae-sung learned something he wasn’t supposed to and is now paying the price genuinely :pensive: major f but it rly just be like that sometimes - anything !! ;; we can come up w anything or combine these or whatever !! im open to anything !!  ^^ everything above is open to all genders !!  [04:13AM EDIT] omg this is so embarazzing but i completely forgot to add if youre more comfortable being dmed than dming, just like the post !! i’ll hit you up !!

Shattered Chains of Fate Ch. 14

Moon on the Water

The first thing Sōsuke Aizen has memory of is hunger. A dull ache in his stomach that grows to pain the longer it goes unsated.

(He will learn, decades later, that only those with high reiryoku are able to feel hunger)

He doesn’t remember, he’s never known, if he was born in Soul Society or if he’d merely died young. He doesn’t recall if he had parents at some point, or if he’d been a hollow once. It doesn’t matter, for he doubts very much that he will ever know the answer to these things. There are some things that are simply impossible to find the answers to.

All he knows for certain is the hunger that he had become aware of.

Then the dust on his skin. Grit in his eyes. Dead grass beneath his hands.

The trees that stand as witness to his beginning are bare of greenery. They are nothing more than skeletons and dead wood, pressed in close and strangling each others roots.

There are no other humans around, only empty clothes laying on the earth around him.

He doesn’t know his name. He doesn’t know where he is or what’s happening.

Hunger gets his legs up under him.

Hunger drives him, stumbling and new, into the dull light.

*

It’s barely a town where he spends the next two decades. It’s all adult men and women covered in bruises or scars that grip knives with white knuckles. He is the only child among them, and he keeps that title with bloodied fists and teeth.

His ribs hurt and his stomach aches fiercely. Food is in scarce supply, whether people feel the same hunger as he does or not. What little there is is jealously guarded, and nothing is taken without a price paid for it. Gold and silver are worth nothing here. Only steel and bone make a difference.

There is something inside of him that tells him he could be stronger.

It’s a whisper in the night, a breeze on a pond in his dreams.

Grow,  says the moon in the water.  Grow stronger. Grow smarter. Grow.  

It’s something in the way he walks. To tall, too confident.

The men find him when the moon is gone from the sky and can’t float on the water any longer.

“You think you’re better than us, just because you’ve got a little bit of reitsu?” he reeks of sake and years gone unwashed. He’s flanked by three others, all of them red faced and unstable.

That doesn’t stop the hits from hurting.

“You’re no better than we are!”

“You’re just a brat no one wanted, that’s why you’re here.”

“Where’d your whore mother leave you anyway huh? In the woods? Fucking bush runt.”

When he lifts his head to spit on one of them he’s slammed down again so hard he sees stars. Blood roars in his ears and pours down his face with the tears and snot. His lips split. He screams.

It’s over.

When he looks up there’s only clothes on the ground, and he learns how to keep his head bowed and mild. Even still, people start avoiding him. Fear leads to isolation.

* *

He is only just an adolescent when people begin to vanish. They leave blood stains on the ground and screams in the night. There have been other children in the years. None of them last long. Even the ones that he tries to protect can’t take as many hits as he can, or go as long without. The latest dies not a month after he meets them. Adults have stopped speaking to him entirely. He is too smart, to vicious, to strong.

It takes four months for the shinigami to arrive.

One woman faints at the sight of them, the pressure of their souls so intense she can’t take it. He scoffs quietly. He is just as strong, and they don’t drop to their knees for him.

He watches them with solemn eyes. They wander like sparrows, with no direction and hardly any drive. Merely being in their village is a chore for these people, never mind the dead.

They are only people in the outer districts, he hears them whisper. Unmanageable and unwashed. They don’t even have shoes.

Sosuke bites his lip so hard it bleeds. That is not enough for him. He will no be contented to this life and fade away or be torn apart by monsters, those with and those without masks.

He walks up to one shinigami and points him to the hunting ground. The place by the river, where everyone must go eventually. That’s where they will find the monster that they barely bothered to look for.

Someone calls him clever. Someone else notes his energy levels.

None of them look back when they leave again.

He looks at the stick and stone huts that make up his village for a long time before he follows their foot prints. He is worth more than dirt and dead grass and bloody teeth. Regardless of what they tell him. He will find people who recognize that he is a person, that he deserves to be seen, that he deserves to eat and wash and live.

* * *  

The first time he sets sight on the seireitei the only thing that over rides his anger is his hunger.

He wants it. He wants that place. He wants his place in its wall and all that it entails. Shoes, soap, food.

He wants all of it. And he hates these people for hoarding it. He’d worked his way through the rukongai, and he’d made his way to the first districts with calloused hands and a mild smile. He’d seen people throw food away. He’d seen them discard perfectly good clothes and tools simply because they were old.

All of this waste, and yet he’d gone hungry for so long. For what reason?

He’d learned to read in return for months of hard labor, and he’d gotten himself accepted into the academy on work alone.

By then he was still young for the academy, but not the youngest. He had learned to be mild and polite. He’d learned to hide the blood in his teeth and wear his sleeves long enough to hide calloused palms and scarred knuckles.

He’d even started to wear glasses, to give the impression that he was smarter than people thought. And he was. Smarter. Smart enough and savvy enough that he lost his accent and polished his edges so swiftly that anyone who didn’t know before hand where he’d come from never would. Kido came to him as easy as breathing. All of his classes did. It just made sense, like fitting together pieces of puzzles. History and law, mathematics and management.

Poetry especially became a passion of his. It was elegant and beautiful, it opened a window to the soul of the writer.

The stroke of the brush and the stroke of the sword was the same. Once made it could never be undone. There the true intentions were laid bare to the world.

He chose a poetic name for himself. One that was just as unassuming at his smile and his eyes.

Sosuke Aizen. ‘Clever’ and ‘mediator’, and ‘love’ and ‘peace’. Something that he was and something that he wasn’t. Truth and lies.

He had barely graduated when the moon finally spoke to him a name on the water.

  Kyoka Suigetsu.  

“ You have grown, my Sosuke.”  

She is lovely and insubstantial. She ripples at the edges and her long white hair flows like water around them. Her blue eyes are so dark they’re nearly black, and her kimono swims with black and white koi.

She is like him, everything seemingly dripped in finery and hiding the callouses beneath. She is as beautiful as the truth is ugly. Sosuke loves her, suddenly and fiercely. He always has. She is the changing moon that has always watched over him.

She is alone in that.

Even in the academy, surrounded by others, he realizes quickly that he is cut from a different cloth.

He is smarter, stronger, he adapts faster. It leaves him standing above students, a pedestal they cannot reach, but below shinigami who are even weaker than he by the simple merrit of he has not yet graduated.

He asks one of those shinigami one day, when they are visiting to scout new recruits for their squads, why no one has ever tried to make things better for the outer districts.

(why no one ever tried to make it better for him)

They laughed at him, and the notion that anyone would care for mere rukongai trash. Someone all the way from Akaiha was worth less than the dirt on the shoes of someone like a Kuchiki. One person from Junrinan was worth more than eighty people from the eightieth districts.  Why bother with people like that?

If they really hated it there so much they should have worked harder to get out.

If their lives were so terrible they should just hurry up and die and move on.

Another answer comes, years later. It’s given to him by Shinji Hirako, his new captain, but the words aren’t really aimed at him. They stand on a balcony above the graduation class after him. He’s a fourth seat, fresh himself, and prepared to claw his way higher with grace and smiles.

The difference between the people below them is stark. The rukon seeds, the nobility, and the mercantile. It’s in the slope of shoulders, the set of jaws, and the dark eyes. Even their uniforms bear the marks of their origins. Some are new, even in the last days of class. Others are threadbare, grown out of and patched messily in places.

“It’s the same every year,” Hirako says to Rose. The two blonds are shoulder to shoulder, flanked by their underlings. Hirako has no lieutenant, so his entourage is larger.

“A shame,” Rose’s usual smile is faded into a pensive frown.

“Don’t look like that. There’s nothing you can do and you know it. They keep the rukon full so when the Soul King needs to lighten the weight no one with any power does anything about it. That’s how it’s always been.”

“I know that.” Rose’s frown deepens. “That doesn’t mean I like it.”

“No. None of us do.”

Sosuke thinks of cruel smiles and sabotages. Finery hides the sickest hearts. He’s not sure that Hirako is right. Plenty of people like the system just fine. All the ones with power do. The nobility does nothing because it keeps them safe and it keeps them living in luxury. They like living above the common riff raff.

Sosuke starts looking more into history. There have been attempts at change in the past. Rebellions and insurgencies, all crushed. Each time things got worse for the citizens of the Rukongai. More resources were taken, trade was restricted, business taxes increased until the squalor of the outer districts encroached until it reached all the way to the fifty first. The nobles owned the Central 46, who all Shinigami would obey without question. They cut down citizens they should have protected.

After that it stopped. Fear held them in place. They were no more than sheep.

Sosuke would not be a sheep. He refused.  

* * * *

Isolation was a deadly thing.

To be alone, even when surrounded by other people, was the worst sort of torture. He may not have shown it, but he struggled to resign himself to the world as it was. Why should he? He had been born strong. He hadn’t realized it at the time, but the empty clothes around where he woke up were people crushed by his mere presence. He had learned, quickly, to hide himself inside his own skin.

No one saw him. No one saw what he saw. A king that never knew his subjects, a ruling class that revelled in the suffering of those beneath them. There was a king with no face, no name, no influence. No king at all.

The throne in the sky was empty and Sousuke still knew the hunger. It still clawed at his chest and stomach.

Hirako was suspicious of him. He’d never done anything to warrant it, but the captain watched him like he was waiting for an explosion.

He was the last of his graduating class to be sent to the human world. The senkaimon was acting strangely, and they were going to put it off a few more months, but the head captain insisted, over Hirako’s protests. He said Sosuke needed to get his feet wet.

So he went.

He stepped out of the gate and onto a beach, where western troops marched in the dying red light.

This was not right. It wasn’t right at all.

Where were the thick wooden walls and tiled roofs of Kyoto? Surely it couldn't have changed so much since the last paintings were brought back from the human world! There really must have been something wrong with the Senkaimon. It dropped him somewhere he was certainly not meant to be.

There was something weird here too. The air was dense, like the atmosphere had suddenly compressed without room to expand. And the soldiers. Most of them weren’t just in identical uniforms. Some of them had the same face!

They were all alive, that much he could tell, and none of them paid any mind to him.

He touched the hilt of his zanpakutou, a curl of worry and a thrill of excitement coursing through him before he brushed them underneath reasoning and logic.

  Is it an illusion?  

He knows she is the best when it comes to such things. No one else could compare, and once he has someone snared there’s nothing else. The game is over and he has won.

She thrums under his fingers a small denial.

No. It’s real. Everything is real, but everything is also...

Wrong.  He can feel it. There’s something very, very wrong in the air. A thickness, a blanket over the land. The edges of the horizon somehow seem more like a cage than an invitation to find where they lead. As if they lead nowhere.

What is this?!

Sosuke forces himself to calm down. He’s never understood people who let their anger cloud their judgement, or fear decide their actions. Nothing good ever comes of that.

He needs information.

He tries, first, to open the senkaimon again, but to no avail. He stabs the air at least five times before he gives up on that option. Panic thrums under his skin. He sets it aside yet.

An investigation begins.

He follows troops and listens to orders. People are fighting, a war between americans and the clan Connacht.

Soldiers for it march to a prison, where a high profile captive it being held under a general. Seeking information he follows after.

Inside, he finds a tragedy and a miracle all in one.

* * * *

A human who can see him. A man who travels through time in a desperate attempt to save the world he lives in. A boy who has no power on his own but can empower into other people.

He’s an interest ( amazing ) human.

At first glance he’s just a moody teenager. All scowls and harsh edges. Sosuke gets to watch them soften around his people. Mash, a girl of tremendous resilience and knowledge. Cu Cullain, a magician who is two people at once, gentle and fierce in equal turns. Medusa is a vicious contender, with sharp teeth and serpents in her hair. The only smiles she has are reserved for pretty girls, and Ichigo himself.

It’s not his intention, but Sosuke starts to get attached.

It’s not his intention, but Sosuke starts to trust them.

Ichigo feels like his first and final chance. He sees the same injustices, he encourages Sosuke’s anger.

He tells him to change the world.

For the first time in his life Sosuke blossoms. He doesn’t need to hold himself back, or pretend to be anything other than what he is. Ichigo sees through his facade anyways. Ichigo keeps up with the twisting paths and whip quick leaps Sosuke’s mind makes. He’s a match for him. Never has Sosuke felt anything like what he felt when Ichigo placed his hand on his shoulder and shoved his very soul inside his skin.

Fire and moonlight, an ocean of power rushing into Sosuke’s swollen lake of reiryoku.

For the first time in his life Sosuke begs. When Ichigo tells him that he’ll forget him, forget them, he tells him secrets. He lets him touch Kyoka Suigetsu and offers him only truth. He will never be able to hide from Ichigo again, and he will give up every mask and tempered smile he has if it means Ichigo will restore him to how he is in America.

Free.

The empty throne in the sky doesn’t exist anymore. There are only stars and the sun.

It’s a war. Bloody and desperate. Every hollow in hueco mundo has brought themselves to the feast, or to run from the end of their home.

It’s still precious to him. Ichigo’s roughness manages to sand away his edges and hard corners, in the best ways.

It can’t stay. He clings to Ichigo when the battles are over and the light starts to shimmer around him. If he could he would follow him all the way to Chaldeas, no matter the consequences. If he could.

He can’t.

He loses everything, and he can’t even mourn it.

* * * * *

He stepped out of the gate and onto a beach, where western troops marched in the dying red light.

He stepped out of the gate and onto a beach, where western troops marched in the dying red light.

He stepped out of the gate and onto a beach, where western troops marched in the dying red light.

  Onto a beach-  

  Onto a beach-

  Onto a-  

Into carefully planned out streets lined with high wooden walls and roofs tiled in blue. Souls wander, forlorn and clinking with the chains of fate. Somewhere off to the east there’s a hollow hunting for dinner. The living are just as down trod as the dead, trudging through their daily toil.

Sosuke stumbles forwards. He blinks several times. He had just been reaching for something, hadn’t he? He’d been trying to hold something in his hands…

Something in his hands.

He looks down at his clenched fist. There is something cool and powerful held in his hand.

The one constant in Sosuke Aizen's life is hunger.

* * * * * *

In My Veins (KamilahxMC) - Season 2 - Chapter 3

Summary: Inspired by Lovestruck’s “Havenfall is For Lovers” (Antonio). Amy seems to finally have solved her feelings for Kamilah, but when somebody from her past returns, their relationship will be put to test.

Genre: Romance, Angst

Rating: T

Notes: Not angst, only a little bit drama, I promise! Also, alert for NSFW content.

KamilahxMC Tag List: @iam-the-fuckin-queen, @annabellewerecorgi, @voltos9, @scorpistraub, @leavemeandmyshipsalone, @jen825, @andreear17, @spacecarrousel, @justejuste727, @aureliaxj, @graceschoices, @sleeping-with-her06, @supersphynxsworld, @gavryllo, @galaxyside-0, @msuhailey, @zoe6111, @ptxgirwaffles, @tigerbryn11, @shanuuh, @ilovetaylor13m, @honorablebicycle, @ilovekamilahsayeed, @begging-for-kamilah, @kennaxval, @fal-carrington

Kamilah rolled her eyes, tossing a pile of papers aside.

“I can’t figure out where he could be keeping my brother,” she sighed. “It must be in one of the cities I have an office, but which one?”

Amy observed quietly. The last couple of days had been absolutely stressing. The more Kamilah tried, she couldn’t get any leads about Gaius. She called every single contact she had worldwide, in every city she had an office, but no one had the answers she needed.

“Do you think Gaius knew how to catch a plane and travel to another continent?” She finally asked, after all the ancient vampire spent almost a century trapped inside a sarcophagus. He wasn’t used to the modern world.

“He’s a fast learner.” Kamilah answered, without paying much attention, as she tossed more papers aside. “God, it was so much easier to track you.”

“Track me?”

“Yes. I’ve paid people to do research from me, since your very first ancestor, the First Vampire.”

Amy felt a strange sensation in her stomach, remembering what Jameson told her in the dungeon. So it was true. She really descended from the First Vampire.

“Is it Rheya her name?” She wanted to know. Kamilah nodded in confirmation. “But why me, Kamilah? Why not my mother, or my siblings?”

“I can’t tell exactly, Amy,” Kamilah told. All I know is the first woman of every generation can inherit the traits. In your family, the only one who did was you.“

Amy sat down at the couch, sinking into her thoughts again. Was it possible she was powerful as Jameson said? And what she had to do to unlock all this potential? She was about to open her mouth to tell Kamilah, when the female vampire interrupted her.

"I see no other way,” she sighed and grabbed her car keys. “We’re going to The Council meeting.”

———-

In the short months Amy had been living with Kamilah, she discovered only one thing was certain, Council meetings never ended well. Still, Kamilah thought that since one of them was possibly working with Gaius, she could seal a deal to obtain information.

“I know you’re desperate but, are you sure this is a good idea?” Amy questioned as they entered Raines Corporation.

“It’s never a good idea,” Kamilah straightened her suit. “It’s like cutting a deal with the Devil. But I’ll do whatever it takes to find Lysimachus.”

When they entered, the meeting had already started. They were doing the so-called tribunal, to decide if Priya was innocent or not for the night she attempted to murder Amy.

“Well, well,” the fashion designer smirked. “Look who has arrived. Am I going to be punished?”

“Silence!” Adrian ordered. “Kamilah, I thought you said you wouldn’t come.”

“I did, but I have an important matter to discuss.”

“Okay, but first we need to finish the voting process. Vega?”

“My vote is ‘nay’,” the Senator announced, glancing at Amy with a suspicious look. “The feeding was consensual and nothing happened to girl, she’s safe and sound, isn’t she? Priya could’ve really lost control, as she claimed.”

Adrian sighed in disappointment. His vote was the only one in favor of Priya’s condemnation. With The Baron, Lester and Senator Vega by her side, she’d never be punished for her actions. Kamilah didn’t seem to care. At the moment her priority was another. It hurt Amy a little bit.

“May I?” She placed herself on the table and cleared her throat. “As you are aware of, Gaius has returned. He also brought my twin brother, Lysimachus, back to life.”

“Is it even possible?” Lester asked in shock. “I mean, the guy has been dead for…”

“2038 years, yes.”

“He used Amy’s blood,” Priya explained, with a malicious expression. “It’s like the Holy Grail for Vampires.”

“Ha!” The Baron let out a laugh. “Are you telling me dumb Dora’s blood can actually bring the dead back to life?”

“Shut up,” Kamilah shouted, slamming her fist on the table. “Gaius has been using my brother to torture me, he wants me to go to him!”

“Do you have any evidence of your claims, Kamilah?” Adam Vega asked. “I’m sorry, but it all sounds a little bit unrealistic to me.”

Kamilah sighed and went to the television screen Adrian had in the conference room. After plugging her phone on it, she played the footage she was able to retrieve, from the two video calls Gaius made.

“Oh. My. God.” Lester stood up from his chair. “He’s back! He’s really back! W-We need to run… We…”

“Hmmm,” Vega was pensive. “Out of all of us, he decided to go after you first. Any idea why? Is it only because you used to be his consort, or there’s something else behind it?”

His eyes went straight to the chair where Amy is sitting.

“I see what you’re suggesting,” Kamilah said. “He’s interested in Amy’s blood and heart, to bring back the First Vampire.”

“T-This is… This is only getting worse,” Lester was on the edge of a panic attack.

“I suggest we cut a deal with him,” the Baron proposed. “We hand him the girl, in trade of our freedom.”

“It’s not even an option,” Adrian angered.

Kamilah took another deep sigh.

“All I want to know is if someone in this room has any leads about Gaius whereabouts. I’ll deal with him myself.”

“This is madness,” Adrian shook his head. “Are you telling me you plan to go to him by yourself?!”

“Yes.”

After a moment of silence, the only thing that was heard was Priya’s sarcastic laugh, followed by a suggestive smirk. Kamilah glanced at her.

“Oh, you. I should have known… If you have anything to say, you better spill it.”

“I’ve heard a thing or two during my latest trip to New Orleans…” the fashion designer said, “about a trail of bodies, all over the East Coast. And then…”

“Then what?” Kamilah asked, angry. Almost losing her temper completely.

“Oh Kamilah, everything has a price. Information like this, it could be dangerous in the wrong hands.”

“I know what you mean,” Kamilah rolled her eyes. “Tell me your price.”

Kamilah opened her wallet, ready to sign a check with any value Priya asked for.

“Not money, darling,” Priya laughed again. “I want her,” she pointed at Amy. “So, what’s going to be? You give me your mortal pet and I tell you where your brother is. Easy as that.”

Kamilah turned around, looking at Amy steadily. The girl’s heart started thundering inside her chest. Was it possible Kamilah was really considering Priya’s offer?

The moment of tension was interrupted by Adrian’s cell phone. When he hung up, he announced:

“A friend from Greece. A strange motion at the small island of Mydea. The Order Of Dawn’s compound has been completely destroyed.”

“Gaius always held a grudge against the Order,” Kamilah told. “I’m flying to Greece. Right now.”

———-

“Kamilah, wait,” Amy shouted, as she followed the female vampire across Raines Corporation lobby. “I’m coming with you.”

Kamilah stopped and turned around, finally giving her proper attention after days acting distant and cold.

“Amy…” she took a deep breath and cupped the girl’s face between her hands. “I can’t let you come with me. It’s too dangerous.”

“So that’s it? You’re going to walk by yourself into a trap, where Gaius is probably going to kill you and your brother? Kamilah, we need a plan.”

“There’s no time for plans, Amy. Trust me, it’s safer for you to stay here.”

“Of course, it’s not like an ancient vampire is going to be kidnap me and bleed me dry, or anything like that.”

Kamilah closed her eyes, flustered.

“I can’t figure out if you’re talking about my past actions or Gaius’ and that’s troubling.”

Amy laughed before placing a kiss on Kamilah’s lips. As her tongue sneaked inside the female’s vampire mouth, moving against hers teasingly, her hands sneaked to Kamilah’s pocket, stealing her car keys and cell phone.

“Amy!” Kamilah shouted as they parted. “What the hell was that?”

“Ha! It seems like even Kamilah, the Vampire Queen, has weaknesses after all,” Amy chuckled victorious. “I am going with you.”

———-

Inside the airplane, there was nothing but absolute silence for hours. Kamilah was focused on her laptop and Amy thought it was better to not disturb her.

She looked through the window, observing outside as they flew above the ocean. The thought Kamilah even considering giving her to Priya wouldn’t allow her to rest. Didn’t the last months they spent together mean anything? Just when she thought a feeling had truly sparkled inside Kamilah’s heart, she acted exactly like the opposite. As if Kamilah was reading her mind, she asked:

“What would you have done?”

“What?”

“What would you have done in my place, Amy?” Kamilah insisted.

“I… I don’t know, Kamilah,” Amy told. “It’s not like you’d trade me for a pair of sunglasses, it’s your brother and you’ve already told me you’re doing whatever it takes to have him back.”

Kamilah ran her hand through her long straight hair. Amy could notice, behind her walls, that she was falling apart.

“Do you really think she’d have helped you? Priya, I mean. If you had given me to her.”

“Probably not,” Kamilah sighed.

Amy fought a smile and focused her attention back to the dark night sky.

“I’m going to lose him again,” Kamilah spoke again. Her voice was dark and fearful. “And I’m going to lose you too.”

“Kamilah…”

“And if I cared about you, if I truly cared about you, I’d try harder to lose you. Because at least you’d be safe.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Amy reached for her hand, holding it tightly.

Kamilah looked deeply into her eyes and all Amy could see in her face were centuries of pain, she fought so hard to hide, surfacing.

“Why?”

“Because you can’t tell me what to do?"

"You’re the most stubborn mortal I’ve ever met,” Kamilah wrapped an arm around Amy’s waist and kissed her forehead. “I’m so sorry, Amy. I almost gave you to Priya. I don’t know what I’m doing! I can’t even recognize myself anymore!”

For a second, Amy felt she was about to cry. Imagine Kamilah crying was something that never even crossed her mind before. She sat across the female vampire’s lap, stroking her fingers through her hair.

“How could I even consider doing that?” Kamilah pressed a lingering kiss on Amy’s lips. “Amy, I…”

Amy silenced her with her index finger.

“That’s okay, Kamilah. We’re going to fix it.”

Kamilah kissed her again, bringing Amy closer to her body as much as she could. Between fierce and heated kisses, involving tongue playing and biting, they removed every pieces of clothes that were stopping their bodies from feeling each other’s warmth.

“I don’t want to go, Kamilah. I don’t want to ever leave you…”

Kamilah’s mouth descended to her neck, kissing and sucking the soft skin enough to leave small purple marks.

“Please, stop trying to push me away. It hurts more than anything else you could do to me.”

“I won’t,” the female vampire finally faced her. Now she had a smile on her face. That smile Amy fell in love for. “I promise. I’m never letting you go.”

Looking into her brown eyes, Amy could almost lose herself into them. A growing desire started to burn inside her chest. She needed Kamilah as much as she needed air to breathe.

“I-I… I should get some sleep,” Amy told, as she felt Kamilah’s hand playfully touching her hip bone.

“Please, stay with me.”

How could she even said ‘no’ to those eyes? Even when she was so conflicted about the last events.

“Okay,” Amy sighed in agreement. “I didn’t feel like getting up anyways, I’m comfortable here.”

“We probably shouldn’t have sex right now, should we?” Kamilah asked, raising one eyebrow.

“No,” Amy yawned and rubbed her eyes, “we should have sex and then grab a snack, I’m starving.”

“Well, I’m lucky to have both right here in my arms.”

A joke. Most of the tension was finally broken. Amy let out a laugh and buried her face on Kamilah’s neck, inhaling her expensive and amazing cologne. Her girlfriend definitely looked a lot more relaxed, but still worried and insecure.

“I just want to know if everything is fine between us.”

“I don’t know if anything is fine right now, Kamilah. But I don’t wanna break up, if that’s what you mean. You’re doing your best in a crazy situation.”

“Thank you, Amy. I don’t know what I’ve even done to deserve you,” Kamilah’s fingers caressed the side of her body, sending electric impulses from Amy’s head to her toes. “It’s been a long time since I cared about anyone else other than myself. It hasn’t been such a smooth transition.”

“Same here,” Amy smiled, as Kamilah placed a kiss on cheek.

“You’ve given me such wonderful gifts,” the female vampire whispered in the girl’s ear, nibbling on her earlobe. “Your trust, so hard won.”

Then, she kissed the way down to Amy’s chest. Kissing and cupping her breasts.

“Your heart, so full of love and kindness.”

Her mouth descended even lower, to Amy’s belly. Amy threw her head upwards, feeling the tips of Kamilah’s fangs gently scratching her skin.

“Your body. All that bare skin for me to sink my teeth into,” a small bite made Amy shiver in pleasure. “Marking you for everyone to see you’re mine.”

Kamilah finally went on her knees, lowering her head between Amy’s legs.

“All those secret places for me to kiss and lick and touch until you scream my name loud.”

And she was right. Absolutely right. As Kamilah worked on all the right spots, Amy could do nothing else but moan.

“Kamilah…”

Happy to accomplish her task, Kamilah looked at her with a sly grin before proceeding. Her tongue moving perfectly, massaging the most sensitive part of Amy’s body.

“Kamilah!” Amy shouted, a little bit louder.

“Oh my sweet human thing… we’re only getting started.”

Her next set of moves was enough for Amy to reach her peak, screaming her name for the pilot, and anybody else that was inside of that plane, to hear.

----------

Later, she was resting in Kamilah’s arms, with only a blanket covering their bodies.

“Amy?” Kamilah called for her, wondering if she was asleep.

“What is it?” She mumbled.

“I know I’m not a good person, but I promise you I’m trying to do things right. I promise I’m trying to be a better woman for you.”

For the first time in months, Amy was unable to trust her words completely. Her behavior in the last few days didn’t quite match her promises.

“And I’ll show you with my actions,” Kamilah added. “Not only with words.”

“Okay,” Amy looked up at her and smiled, giving her a vote of trust.

Shots (Handsome Bob x Reader) Pt 1

Tags: @tiredoffeelinglost, @eap1935, @ellar21, @but--dear-this-is-not-wonderland, @titty-teetee , @sparklyreaderx , @iv-nyc 

Warnings: mentions of weaponry, meantions of death.

A/N: Ok, writing about a new character is a challenge, so feedback is specially appreciated 😜 

I’m doing 2 parts, so it doesn’t get too long/boring for you! This one is about shots in business, the next one will be all about other kind of shots... Multiple kinds of shots actually ( aka Bob smut) 😏

Shots - Pt1

You tapped the fingers impatiently on the worn table, as your eyes scanned the terrible familiar room; it was just as messy as when you last saw it, but far more devoid of people than it used to be. Was this what the Wild Bunch had become, while you were incarcerated?

The silence was broken by the sound of men’s voices, coming closer and closer.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the three stooges…” – Crossing your arms, you got up, pacing around the room and giving them a sideways smirk. – “You better have a good reason to call me here; I’m a busy girl, these days...” – You walked over to them, leaning forward greet them. – “Mumbles… One Two… Chauffeur…”

“That’s Handsome Bob…” – Mumbles introduced the younger man.

“I’m sorry, what?” – You didn’t even try to contain your laugh at that. – “Since when have the gangster nicknames come to this?“ – You asked with a teasing voice.

“Do you have a better one?” – Good-humored even in his annoyance, Bob asked.

“Actually , I do… “ – Lips scarcely an inch from his ear, you whispered, before turning on your heel. – “But after I served my time, it wouldn’t be good to call me by that name in public, Handsome. (Y/N) will do, or Gorgeous (Y/N), suit yourself. “ – A cocky smile flashed on your lips, and you turned to the other two.- “ Now, I bet you didn’t call me here to catch up, or to introduce me to your driver…So, let’s get down to business?”

The men took a big wooden box off the closet behind you, putting it over the table, and opening it with crowbars. You examined the content cautiously, sliding your finger across it.

“May I?” – Your gaze shifted from the box to the men, and One Two nodded an acknowledgment. – “Neat!”

“Be careful with that!” – Bob placed his hand on yours, as you took the gun out of the box.

“I’m a superb marksman, meaning can handle these babies blindfolded, if needed.  My gangster nickname is Deadshot… Just as self-explanatory as Handsome Bob, no? “ – You threw him a sidelong glance. - “ Don’t ever underestimate me; it’s a grave mistake.” -  Giving him a derisive smile, you pulled your hand back, assembling the high-precision rifle together before they knew it. – “Depending on the conditions, the maximum effective range will be between 1 and 1,5 miles…” – You thoroughly analyzed the scope. – “Which, let me tell you, is a fuckin’ lot! You can even work with thermal imaging, if you’re close enough to the target… This is beyond cutting-edge, better than the ones that most of the armies use.“ – Just as quickly as you assembled it, you disassembled it, putting it carefully back in the box – “Everything about this baby is ultra-high end. This is not what you used for armed robbery…” - You studied their faces for a moment.

“We won’t use it in a robbery…” – One Two sat on the edge of the table.

“We won’t use it… We don’t know how to handle that kind of weaponry. But you do…”- Sauntering across the room, Mumbles scratched his chin.

“It’s not a robbery and you want a sniper’s help? Oh boy, why does it sound to me like things might get dicey, huh?  Listen, I’m on probation… If things go south, and I get caught, I’ll be put behind bars for the next decade, or more.” – Taking a deep breath, you clasped your hands tightly together.

Mumbles was about to make the case, but Bob interrupted him.

“We’re in trouble, and we have nobody else to turn to, (Y/N)…”

“We don’t want to kill anyone, but you know, just in case… Think of it like a life insurance.” – One Two shrugged his shoulders, as if trying to put you at ease.

“Then perhaps you should fill me in. I’m all ears.” – Pensive, your eyes were glued to your hands, as you cracked your knuckled loudly. The men exchanged glances, with a smile on their lips, at the thought you could go along with their plan. – “Well? I don’t have all the time in the world.” – The long wait made you exhale loudly in frustration and turn your attention back at them.

They walked towards the closet again, getting a noticeably heavier box.

“Another treasure chest?” – You facepalmed, as they struggled to open the box.

When the box was finally open, they removed the raffia that covered the merchandise. You took a peek and your eyes went wide.

“RPGs?! First you show me a high-precision riffle, and now RPGs?! These shits can blow up an armored vehicle, like, a fuckin’ tank! Boooom! Jesus.” – You buried your head in your hands. - “Did you rob the Her Majesty’s Armed Forces, or something like that?”

“The Russians.” – Bob added.

“Oh God.” – You dug your fingers deeper into your scalp. – “I don’t know what’s worse actually, stealing from the army, or stealing from the fucking Russians. They’re nuts! They are coming after you for this, do you realize that?!”

“That’s why we need you (Y/N).”

“No, mate, I have enough holes in my body, I am not adding more to the list. I’m out. Get rid of those, before you get yourselves killed.”  - Pinching the bridge of your nose, you stepped back.

“We are getting a rid of it; we will make good money selling them to a rival gang.”

“That’s not what I meant by getting rid of them, moron.” -  You rolled your eyes, before scowling at them.

“One more job and we’ll go straight once and for all….25% of the sale is yours, are you in?” – Mumbles tried to make a bargain with you.

You raised an eyebrow and took two or three steps toward the door.

“30 %.” – One Two hesitated, but he knew he had to raise the stakes, in order to keep you interested.

Shaking your head, you kept slowly stepping out the doorway.

“50%.” – Bob shouted loud enough for you to hear. You stopped, scratching your head, deep in thought.

“I’m so going to regret this…” – Whispering to yourself, you turned around, peeking through the door. “Did you, by any chance, say fifty?” – The corners of your mouth quirked up.

They gave Bob an unbelieving look; half the profits was an incredibly high share. Were they that desperate?

“35%.” – They tried to correct the proposal.

“Nuh-huh, I like Bob’s offer. Fifty or nothing… You’ve got ten seconds to make your decision from… Now.” – Looking at the watch you started counting down the ten seconds, as they discussed among themselves if they were willing to pay your price. – “Two… One… What’s it gonna be?”

“Fifty.” – They said in unison.

“One last thing… We’ll do it my way.”

The remainder of the week was spent making plans, going over them over and over again; the date and place of transaction, the communication system and the safety word in case they needed your help, the escape routes and what to do in case anything went wrong… You thought you had it all figured out, but you never do, when it comes to Russians.

D-Day. Wearing a military uniform, you packed the parts of the rifle in a black rucksack.

���A uniform? Rawr,  I love them.” – Bob leaned against the table, with a mischievous smile.

“Yeah, that’s exactly why I brought it…” – You smiled back, picking the rucksack up and putting it over one shoulder.

“Really?”

“No… The System considered my skills pretty useful for some agreed exceptional cases; if I cooperate, I’m a free bitch. Let’s say I am doing a little service for the System, on behalf of the military forces, technically  I would be allowed to have this backpack and its content…Now,  if I were caught with this backpack on my own initiative, as a civilian, an ex-con, bye bye parole...”

“Aren’t you afraid of being caught?”

“There’s no reason to pull over and question someone who’s working for the army, is there, Bob?” – You shrugged, walking out the door.

When the time had come, you all took your positions at the rendezvous point; they waited for the Russians on the eleventh floor of a condemned building, meanwhile, you assembled the rifle on the building across the street, targeting the room where they were.

The Russians arrived, acting surprisingly friendly, and the exchange happened exactly as planned, although the boys were outnumbered three to one. Six Russians carried the three wooden boxes with the weaponry to their black SUVs, while the boys checked the payment, accompanied by three other Russians. The SUVs left and one of the Russians that were still on the room got a call. You all had a tiny earpiece, so you could keep track of the boys in case they needed help.

“I don’t speak Russian, but something’s not right… Guys? Come up with an excuse and leave as discretely as possible, we count the money later. Do you copy?”

They closed the suitcase, and within seconds a Russian was blocking their access to the door. Cornered, they split up, backing off to different parts of the room.

“Fuck…” – You held your position, waiting for that command, but you put the window in the crosshairs, ready to pull the trigger. – “Ready to shoot, on your command.”

One of the Russians walked up to Bob, trapping him between himself and the window, with a gun in hand, ruining your chances of a clear shot.

“Banana.” – One Two mumbled your safety word.

“I don’t have a clear shot…” – You sighed. – “Bob’s in the way…” – In order to shoot the Russians, you’d have to headshot Bob, and that wasn’t part of the plan.

Bob tried to move but the giant Russian aimed his gun to Bob’s head.

“Banana, banana, banana… BANANA.” – One Two closed his eyes wide shut as he held his hands in the air, as if surrendering to the Russians. His hunger for bananas made all the Russians look at him, wondering what the fuck was going on.

“I’m so sorry, Bob.” – As soon as the Russian that was threatening Bob got distracted, you finally pulled the trigger. The shot grazed Bob’s arm, making him kneel on the ground, groaning in pain;  but you finally had a clear shot, or three of them. – “Do svidaniya (Goodbye), bitches.” – When the Russian turned around to see where did the shot come from, a bullet penetrated his skull from one side to the other ; the other two rushed to the aid of their friend, but he was dead, and in no time, so where they, with an extra hole in their heads.  

“Ooo, that was close…” – They panted, and came to help Bob get up.

After disassembling the rifle, you peaked through the window and gave the others a thumbs-up.

“That psycho just shot me!”- Bob flipped the bird in response to your thumbs-up, before moaning in pain again.

You drove back in separate cars, and they arrived to the warehouse before you did.

“I have to go to hospital! Be honest One Two, am I gonna die?” – Bob opened only one eye.

“Yes, you are going to die, we all are…” – After throwing the rucksack on the table, you picked a bottle of vodka and a knife, before sitting by Bob’s side. – “Look, I’m sorry, but I had no choice.” – You soaked a piece of cloth with the vodka, putting it over his wound with an apologetic look on your face.

“Was it really necessary? Is this really necessary?” – He writhed in pain.

“ It’s a flesh wound, don’t be a pussy!” – Mumbles slapped the back of his neck playfully.

“Back where I come from, people with a pussy handle pain just fine…” – You smirked, you inspected the wound.

“Does Cookie have anesthesia for sale?”

“Come on, Bob… You’ll be fine, just apply pressure on the wound, it’s a superficial wound…” – You finished cleaning the wound.

“What if it has bullet fragments?!” – Worried, he watched you clean the wound.

“Only one way to find out…” – You took a sharp knife in your hand, sterilizing it with a lighter.

“Nevermind, no bullet fragments there.” – Bob straightened up on the sofa, making a face. You chuckled and shook your head.

“Let’s go get something to drink, I’m buying. “ – You reached for your jacket, putting it back on.

“I just got shot and you want to party?!” – Bob’s face displayed indignation.

“Tequila, absinthe… Didn’t you ask for anesthesia?” – Smirking, you walked out the door. – “Sometimes I get sick of shots for business; sometimes I like shots for pleasure…”

An agreement had been reached, and you made your way to a local club. You felt like Bob was avoiding you, so you put your arm around him, pulling him away from the crowd, into a corner.

“Listen man, I swear to god I would’ve done things differently if I could… But I didn’t have much choice, Handsome. Are we cool?”

Bob tilted his head, weighting your words.

“We’cool.” – He looked down at you, offering his hand for a handshake; you handed him a shot instead. – “ Well, that works too!” – He gulped at the drink and you did the same. – “ Would you like to dance?”

Super5 headcanons part 3

Part 1   Part 2   Part3   Part 4   Part 5

Thank you everybody for saying such nice things of part 2 (as i said i wasnt that confident so it made me really happy to know you liked it) and sorry for taking so long but school is a bitch and almost killed my inspiration. Anyway here comes part 3

Minegishi: i just got out work. Can someone care to tell me what happened?

Hatori: uhh, yeah . sorry

Hatori: i got out of work like an hour ago and came home to find Shimazaki sleeping on MY bed

Hatori: Shibata was already at the gym and shimazaki hasnt waken up so i dont know much more??

Hatori: i dont know either what to do...

Shibata: is he still there? I told him to take my bed!

Hatori: well he clearly didnt...

Minegishi: ok but HOW did you find him exactly?

Shibata: ill tell you later guys. My next class is about to start

Shibata: And dont worry Hatori! i dont think hell wake up anytime soon.

Shibata: You should have seen him carrying the dog! It was cute <3

Shibata: in a strange way

Minegishi: dog?? WHAT DOG?

Hatori: did you just say "carrying"?

Shibata: sorry guys gtg

Hatori: shit WAIT

Hatori: where am i supposed to sleep now? I cant sleep on the couch!

Shibata: you can sleep with me

Hatori: WHAT? NO

Shibata: Do you prefer to wake him up?

Hatori: I pick the right side

Minegishi: No homo

Hatori: fUCk U

Shimazaki wakes the next morning to the sound of someone gagging to his right

"THE HELL IS THAT SMELL? WHY DO YOU STINK SO MUCH?" yells Hatori before letting out a muffled yelp when the pillow Shimazaki threw hits him square on the face

Shibata, probably alerted by Hatoris screams, comes running and asks from the doorframe "Whats going here?"

"THAT BASTARD SMELLS LIKE POOP AND NOW MY BED WILL SMELL TOO" says Hatori while pointing at the man on his bed who is just groaning clearly annoyed at being awaken

"Hmm it was probably the dog" says Shibata pensive and then looks carefully at shimazaki "You dont have more clothes dont you?"

"Holy shit! Thats true. Youve been using the same clothes since then..."

Shimazaki cant understand why it suddenly matters so much to them "No i dont. Now that that has been cleared up can i go back to sleep?"

"You have to change first. Hatoris clothes wont fit you. so take a shower while i search for something to lend you" says shibata and then turns to Hatori "you gotta go now or you are gonna be late. Dont worry todays my day off, Ill wash your bed"

"Thanks man" says Hatori and then quickly discusses something abouy dinner with shibata before leaving the apartment. Shimazaki can only stare. He just wants to sleep.

But before he can turn his back and return to sleep Shibata is already on him hurrying him to the shower.

Shimazaki doesnt like the idea of giving up his clothes to Shibata (he doesnt like letting go of his possesions because Mental eye cant find inanimate objects and he learned early on life how easy it was to lose things) but even he is starting to get nauseous at the smell of trash and he isnt in the mood to deal with it himself

Shibatas clothes fit loosely but they are comfy, besides once he gets out the shower the man has breakfast ready for him (theres still a box of his favourite cereal) and leaves him to his own devices while he does laundry.

By the end of the day Shimazaki has his own clothes back and they are softer than he remembers ("its the softener" says Shibata, "the what?" responds shimazaki)

Minegishi and Hatori arrive later with boxes of take out and they eat together in awkward silence until Minegishi casually asks with a smirk if Hatori and Shibata slept well at which shibata laughs and tells them Hatori is a blanket hogger which in turn makes Hatori complain about shibatas snores.

The childish fight continues and even though Shimazaki doesnt take part in it he listens atently

At the end he returns to minegishis apartment that night and sleeps on the couch. Neither of them uttering a word of what happened.

The next time Minegishi asks him to go grocery shopping he accepts.

This is stupid. This was a waste of his time.

Shimazaki couldnt read price tags or labels and he didnt know what he was doing here or why Minegishi had brought him

At most he could tell apart boxes from cans and the weight of things but he couldnt differentiate whether he was holding a can of tuna from a can of yakitori sauce or 1k of salt from 1k of sugar without having to ask somebody else.

It was even worse when it came to liquids if the milk/juice failure was anything to go by

After the first few failures of trying to pick stuff Minegishi had tried to teach him about couponing and discounts but then again he had to ask him the price everytime and they both soon got tired of it

All he could do was to touch and feel the fruit and vegetables trying to tell apart the riped from the rotten/damaged

Looking for any bump, hole, softness...things Minegishi taught him

It was stupid.

Minegishi could ripen/fix any plant with his powers and they both knew it

This was a waste of time.

He hated every second of this and wanted to go already but Minegishi had been hellbent on him learning at least this and left him in the fruits section to pick whatever he deemed best while he finished the shopping.

And that was what he was TRYING to do when a store clerk had the brilliant idea of addressing him

In his defense they had been almost 3 hours here and he had been done since the first. The fact he didnt even know what the hell he was holding anymore except that it was round and ripe not helping his annoyance.

He turned to tell her to fuck off. He just wanted to intimadate her. Force her to leave him alone.

He may have gone a little bit overboard.

He opened his eyes.

"Excuse me sir. Customers arent supposed to grab the tomatoes with their bare hands. The bags are-AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Her scream could be heard all around the store

Before he could teletransport away the tomato he was holding twisted and tangled its newly grown vines around his hand in a tight grip. (The sight of it clearly didnt help the girl's panic)

"Dont even think about it" hissed a pissed Minegishi when he passed by his side on his way towards the screaming girl.

Minegishi couldnt feel more stupid than he was feeling a the moment.

In his haste to initiate Shimazaki on the path of becoming a civil person he had somehow forgotten the man was actually blind (not his fault it was so easy to forget when you have seen him destroying entire buildings).

He had tried. He had really tried to come up with any way to fix this mess of a trip but it was getting late and they hadnt even started their actual shopping.

So at the end he gave up and left Shimazaki to the only task he thought could keep him busy and at the same time allowed minegishi to keep track of the mans position anytime while he hurriedly finished the shopping. It was a good plan. What could go wrong?

The moment he heard the scream he knew everything could and will go wrong where it concerned Shimazaki.

Thankfully he could feel he was still holding something vegetal (a tomato?) so Minegishi quickly dashed (shopping cart forgotten) to the mans position and the screaming girl.

His first instict had been to go and calm the girl even though he didnt know what had happened but when he realized people were starting to stare he quickly grabbed Shimazakis arm and dragged him the way he came.

"The fuck did you do?" Minegishi asked once they were in another aisle safe from curious stares

"I did nothing!" responded Shimazaki somewhat offended

" As if! What did you do to her? "

"I didnt do shit to her! I was just doing the fruit thing you asked me!" he raised his hand to show the tomato still holding onto it

"And? Why was she even near you?" mineshiki asked while his powers disentagled the vines and took the tomato

"ITS YOUR FAULT APPARENTLY WE ARENT SUPPOSED TO PICK THE FRUIT"

"Huh? What? I always do-THATS NOT IMPORTANT! Why was she screaming?!"

"I told her off"

"What? People dont scream like that when someone tells them off, even when you..." Shimazaki was clearly hiding something "How did you do it exactly?" minigishi asks with narrowed eyes

"....i may have opened my eyes"

"Your eyes?" minegishi stares increduously "whats that- oh" hes about to ask what was that supposed to mean when he remembers Shimazakis bottomless eyes caused by his physic powers. He may have gotten used to his hollow stare but he still remembers what he felt the first time he saw it. The girls scream finally making sense "You never open your eyes unless you want to threaten someome...did you want to threaten a simple clerk?? "

"No"

"Then?

"i just forgot!" shimazaki huffed

"You...forgot?"

"YES CAN WE GO NOW?" irritation lacing the mans tone

It was that moment that Minegishi realized this trip was taking a bigger toll on shimazaki than he (and probably even the man himself) anticipated and sighed.

"Yeah, i was almost finished anyway lets find the cart"

Shimazaki silently followed.

They finished the shopping without any further accident and while they waited in line to pay something caught minegishis eyes. It was just what he needed.

There was a row of cheap aviator glasses hanging in display.

After some considerantion he grabbed one of the pair with the mirror lens kind and handed them to a now calmer Shimazaki "Here, put this"

Shimazaki who had been following Minegishis movements asked curiously "whats this?"

"Glasses. In case you forget to keep your eyes closed again people wont be able to see your eyes. Put them on and open your eyes. i need to see if they fit and if they'll work"

He miraculously did.

The frame was thicker than it was supposed to be for these kind of glasses (a crude imitation of the stylish kind people wear in magazines) but they fitted and the mirror lens hid perfectly shimazakis glowing irises(?) (Hell never know)

"How do they feel?"

"Strange"

"You could wear them only when you are out in public. They are cheap. Ill buy them and you can do whatever you want with them"

Shimazaki took them off and when it was time to pay he handed them to minegishi

Once outside shimazaki at first refused to teletransport the bags back to the apartment but complied once Minegishi told him he would force him to help carry the bags all the way if he didnt do it AND promised to buy take out to eat.

Minegishi thought the glasses had been left forgotten in the bags but the next morning while he was getting ready to work he noticed they were laying folded on top of a sleeping shimazaki

When Hatori and Shibata inevitably asked about Shimazakis new glasses(that he now used all the time) minegishi told them about what was now deemed as the "supermarket incident"

The next times they went shopping Minegishi stayed all the time with Shimazaki and kept teaching him about vegetables and any thing that came to his mind.

Once they finished (everytime quicker than the previos) it became Shimazakis job to drop the goods at the apartment in exchange of picking what they were going to eat that day

It wasnt exactly what Minegishi had planned but it was a progress (or that was what he thought until Hatori complained about tripping on shopping bags that suddenly appeared in the middle of the hall whenever Shimazaki dropped something there)

Shibata was annoyed because even though they all agreed Shimazaki was behaving nicer the others didnt still believe him about the whole puppy ordeal

so that, coupled with the nagging feeling he had left after washing shimazakis clothes and after hearing about the market incident made him come up with a plan

"A mall trip?? What for?" hatori asked perplexed

"He has just one shirt"

"So?"

"He has been wearing it since we were together, actually i dont remember him wearing anything else ever"

"Thats his problem!"

"HIS JACKET HAS BULLET HOLES " replied shibata getting impatient with how much it was taking Hatori to understand

"He probably likes it that way??" said Hatori still not getting it

"Actually ive been thinking the same. I noticed the bullet holes too" finally came Minegishis voice from the receiver. He was was working at the moment because if they wanted to do this he had to work a double shift to free one day. "I dont think he has anything else"

"See? Minegishis with me!" exclaimed thriumohantly Shibata which only made Hatori roll his eyes

"Fine! i get it! Ive seen the bullet holes too...but i dont get why does it have to be us?"

"Because we are his friends" easily replied Shibata causing Hatori to frown at this

"Are we really? When has he done something for us?" hatoris tone suddenly turning serious "You are literally asking me to spend one of my few days off shopping clothes with MY MONEY for a guy who wanted to kill me mere months ago?"

"We dont know that" said shibata

Hatori trew him a glance that clearly was supposed to mean 'you gotta be kidding' "Look, do we even know if he likes us back?"

At this both men kept silence until shibata dared to speak "he is wearing the glasses"

"God forbid me for forgetting those damn glasses! Guys, im just saying we are already doing so much for him for nothing! why do we need to do more?"

"Because thats what good people do" came Minegishis response and shibata nodded firmly making hatori huff. He was gonna regret this.

" fine! But do we even know if hes gonna like what we buy? If hes gonna even wear it? As you said we had never seen with other clothes"

"Thats why we are gonna take him with us!" said Shibata, glad that this was finnally getting somewhere

Hatori turned to look at the phone "didnt you said you believed shopping stressed him?"

"Mmm these last times had been better" said minegishi

"What if he actually doesnt care about the clothes or-"

"He does" replied Shibata and Minegishi in unison making Hatori stare confusedly

"How do you know?"

Shibata thought back to the hesitance he noticed on shimazaki when he handed him his clothes but didnt think the man in question would like it if he went and tell this to the others and was debating this when minegishi spoke again "Ive noticed someone has been using my softener and i doubt its the plants"

Hatori frowned and then sighed

"You both have settled your minds dont you?" hatori asked and then grumbled when an unison "yes" was heard

"Do you realize we are working with a lot of 'maybes' and 'probably'?"

"Maybe" said the voice from the receiver and Hatori could swear he could hear minegishis smirk

"C'mon man! We have done worse than this" said Shibata happily clapping Hatoris back

"Ugh FINE That bastard better be grateful" grumbled Hatori

This part forced me to think of shimazakis past and now i made myself sad (this isnt the first time he wears glasses)

So the market incident and the glasses scene was stuff i thought about since i started these and was really excited to write it. I hope i did them justice .

I didnt realize how much longer part II was compared to part I so i think part III ended in a nice middle ground.

Haha i again didnt reach the scene i planned to reach(the prank) and at this pace this thing will have 6 parts. Someone save me

Anyway hope you like it and for those of you who dont know I am writing a Teru-centric fanfic about his decision to visit his parents and the aftermath and ill appreciate it if you could check it out (link here) and tell me what you think or at least share it so more people can see it because tumblr sucks and wont let me do it.

See you next time

Back to Prison: 5/5

Summary: The Tartarus makes good things hard to hang onto. So when a couple of mercenaries offer Wash his freedom, he can’t help but think it’s worth whatever price they might ask. Even if it brings him into direct conflict with the Reds and Blues once again.

Mercenary Wash AU.

And here we are, at the end of things! Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who's read, commented, left a kudos, or reblogged or liked on Tumblr! This has been a very fun journey, and I hope you all had nearly as much fun as I did!

One last special thanks to @jomeimei421 for drawing the art that started it all, and @sroloc--elbisivni for being a brilliant beta!

Also on Ao3

“Your turn, Wash,” Felix says, after he comes out of the true warrior test. Something about Felix is jittery, more manic than usual, after that. Locus is silent, pensive, and preoccupied, far too busy talking to Chrissie about setting up the trap to pay attention to them.

“Not a chance,” Wash says. He’s seen the men come out, terrified out of their minds, having lived their worst nightmares.

Wash’s nightmares are a lot worse than any of theirs.

Felix laughs, and Wash’s skin crawls. He reaches for his knives on instinct, and barely manages to stop himself from doing something truly, dangerously stupid.

“I wasn’t asking.”

There’s the thing about Felix that Wash understands. Felix doesn’t respect people, at least not in the way that people normally mean. Everyone, everything, is disposable to him. The closest thing to respect is whatever Locus has.

Wash is a tool, a pawn in Felix’s games.

And, ever since Tucker’s escape…

Wash feels like he’s become just slightly more disposable of one.

But being shoved, head first, into the bright, alien light, is still unexpected.

He’s standing in the snow, looking down at a body wearing his armor.

Someone grabs his elbow and he looks down, into the helmet of Lavernius Tucker, the man who he barely knows, but who has, for reasons that Wash can’t begin to understand, decided to save him.

“Focus,” Private Tucker hisses. He’s not that tall, being shorter than Wash, shorter than Caboose, shorter than Epsilon’s body had been. But he somehow manages to radiate fierceness. “Don’t you fuck this up, okay?”

“Okay,” Wash says, trying to stay upright even though the edges of his vision are beginning to blur with pain. His ribs are probably broken. Blood loss has made his head too light, and Doc hasn’t had much time to help him, not while they’d been busing getting the armor switched.

They make it through the inspection, they make it into the Warthogs, and they leave Epsilon’s body behind in the snow, for the soldier’s to deal with, and Wash tries not to collapse the second he gets into the back of the warthog.

Tucker takes off his helmet, turning around to face Wash. His features are handsome, his skin dark, his hair long, and his mouth a thin, dangerous line.

“Don’t make me regret this, okay?”

“I won’t,” Wash promises, one part earnestness, one part desperation, and one part something that Wash can’t even begin to name. “You won’t regret this.”

“I better not,” Tucker says, putting his helmet back on and turning his attention back to the road.

He doesn’t say what will happen if Tucker does regret this, but Wash can fill in the blanks well enough. Prison, a bullet in the back of the head, or even just killing him in his sleep…

Wash has earned that, he realizes with a horrible shudder. He doesn’t know much about Tucker, and the man doubtlessly knows little about him, but Tucker, the leader of Blue Team, owes him nothing. He has given Wash this second chance as a favor to Caboose. He captured Simmons, he held Doc hostage, and he shot—the pink one.

He doesn’t even know the pink one’s name. He thinks Simmons might have said it, but he can’t remember.

Wash’s fate rests solely in Lavernius Tucker’s hands.

For days, Wash is paralyzed by fear, trying to stay out of Tucker’s way, trying to be useful. He almost misses the Leaderboard, because at least then he had been given concrete evidence of his use, his worth, rather than trying to read a man he barely knows, who wears armor all the time.

The Reds fear him, dislike him, and resent him in turn. They’ve closed ranks, glaring out at the Blues with unconcealed hostility and rancor, and Wash hunches his shoulders and tries to make himself invisible as Tucker argues with the Reds over the radio about something specific that Wash can’t understand.

“I’m sorry,” Wash tells Tucker.

“Does it look like I care?” Tucker snaps. “Just… look, Caboose likes you. I’m not about to make him cry again.”

And don’t you go making him cry either, Tucker doesn’t say.

Slowly, things change. Tucker wakes him up after a nightmare, and blocks the knife that Wash tries to bury in his shoulder without so much as a wince.

“Dude, calm the fuck down, it’s me.”

For a moment, Wash doesn’t know him, thinks that the teal helmet is someone else, and he nearly calls out Carolina’s name, before he catches himself, and freezes.

“Tucker—” he gasps, staring at the hand wrapped around his wrist, keeping his knife trapped. “I didn’t—”

Tucker releases him. “Dude, it’s fine. Do you think you’re the only one who gets nightmares?”

He’s not. Tucker has them too—screaming ones, ones that lead to him making horrifically sexual comments all the next day, and spilling anything he holds because his hands are shaking so hard. Caboose has ones that lead to him crying, soft, shuddering gasps, whispering a litany of names—his sisters, Wash learns—and not stopping until he manages to get them all right.

“Tex had ones like yours,” Tucker admits, one night. His face is streaked with sweat, and his hands are trembling as he tries to wrap his fingers around his mug of hot cocoa. “She taught me to grab the wrist. She used a gun, not a knife, but she made me do it over and over again, until I was fast enough. I had to wake her up, because if Church did it, it was… bad. And if we let her sleep, it was worse.”

“Couldn’t you have… taken her gun?”

Tucker gave him a look. “It was Tex. She had guns all over Blue Base. I found one in Caboose’s cereal once.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Tucker says, and smiles at him—wide and brilliant, despite Tucker’s exhaustion. “She was an asshole like that.”

“You miss her,” Wash says, surprised.

“She was my friend,” Tucker says. He passes Wash his own mug of cocoa.

They sit in silence for a few moments, before Tucker looks up at him.

“You know you are too, right?”

“What?”

“My friend.”

“… oh.”

Carolina comes back, after that. Carolina, scarred and green eyed, her hair still dyed bright red, and her entire body coiled so tightly with tension that Wash thinks that, one day, she’s going to lash out and bring down everything with her.

It’s just like Freelancer.

She hasn’t changed a bit in any way, except now, her devotion towards the Director, has turned around on its head.

“Revenge, Wash,” she promises him, her hand extended. “For both of us.”

Wash reaches out and takes her hand.

The Reds and the Blues tag along, into a series of wild twists and turns, until it brings them to a room, large and strange, with Epsilon’s hologram hovering over them all…

And Carolina raises a gun against Tucker’s head.

“Well, what about now?”

“Carolina!” Wash says, but he doesn’t move. “That isn’t necessary!”

“We found the Director! We can make him pay! This is what we wanted!” Epsilon says. “Tucker, c’mon! He screwed you guys too!”

“Really? That’s what you guys want?” Tucker demands. He’s wearing his helmet, but Wash knows that he’s staring right at him. “Revenge? That’s the only thing that matters?”

“You don’t understand, Tucker,” Wash says, slowly, carefully, keeping half an eye on Carolina and the gun.

“I don’t want to understand!” Tucker yells, striding forward despite the gun that’s still aimed at the back of his skull. “Fuck, Wash, I thought you were—I thought you were better! But you’re not, are you? You’re still that selfish fuck who shot Donut and got Church killed and—” He reaches out, as if to grab Wash—in a hug, or a strangle hold, or something else entirely.

Wash raises his own gun, and Tucker falls silent.

“Carolina,” Wash says, staring down the barrel of his gun at Tucker’s helmet, familiar and teal. He doesn’t want to shoot, but he will, if Tucker moves. He doesn’t want to, but it’s just a fact, and Tucker knows it too, from the way he’s staring at Wash, but keeps staying absolutely still. “We don’t need them. Let’s just go.”

“Right,” Carolina says, holstering her own pistol, still radiating fury.

The two of them walk away, with Epsilon.  

“Fuck you, Washington,” Tucker whispers, at his back.

“So… they were right, not to trust you,” a voice, booming and alien, fills the world, and—

Wash is standing in a blank, empty room, driven to his knees by the intense pressure of that voice.

“What—what was that?”

“A different world… a world you wonder about. You wonder, what would have happened, had Lavernius Tucker chosen differently. I showed you what would have happened. I showed you that he was right, to leave you there. You are, and always will be… this.”

“No,” Wash says. “You’re wrong about me.”

“Am I?”

Wash grits his teeth, his hands clenched into fists by his side. “You are. I’m—I’m not like that.”

“I see no evidence of that.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I do. You saw it for yourself. You were offered everything you say you desired… and you threw it away, to seek satisfaction from the man who wronged you. As you throw away an entire world in the name of vengeance. You are NOT WORTHY.”

Wash falls backwards, out of the portal, gasping for air, and he stares down at his own hands.

What does that… thing know about him? He thinks, ignoring Felix’s laughter in the distance. There’s no way it could do what it says it can, reaching across worlds, and pulling that out.

Lavernius Tucker…

“You killed Church! You tried to kill Donut! What, was I supposed to fucking drag you along just because Caboose liked you?”

“It’s clear bringing you along would have been a fucking terrible idea.”

“Bet you would have thrown the rest of us under a bus the first chance you’d have gotten. If you hadn’t killed us all in our sleep in a fit of Freelancer paranoia first, at least.”

… had he been right?

There’s an ambush, today. An entire army, being led into a kill box. An army, that, according to everyone that Wash has ever talked to, includes teenagers.

And Wash is party to that. He’s been party to a lot, in his life, but this…

“So shove the broody righteous hero attitude, cuz guess what? You’re the goddamn bad guy here.”

Lavernius Tucker had been right about him, all along.

But that…

That doesn’t mean that whatever was in that portal was.

He can… there’s still time.

He can still change things.

Wash moves away from the portal and follows the rest of the pirates. He’s supposed to stay back, to prepare for a raid on Armonia.

That will be a good place to start, Wash decides.

He’s still trying to figure out how he’s going to manage to sabotage a mission that he’s leading without making himself a too obvious target for his own men, when Chrissie makes the call.

A tower that kills a planet… and a key that lets them do it.

Well.

It looks like Wash’s defection might have to be a little more obvious than he’d hoped.

The Temple of the Key is a craggy, strange building on a snow-covered mountain, and Wash immediately hates it when he gets there. There are cliffs, which are already awful, but there’s also snow, and the air outside is so cold that Wash can almost imagine he can feel it through his environmentally controlled armor.

“Any sign of them?” He asks one of the pirates, trying to ignore the prickles of memory poking around the edge of his mind.

“No sir,” Ross, one of the men who was here before the Tartarus, replies. “But the Temple is fucking with our equipment, so we can’t be sure.”

“Fan out and secure the perimeter,” Wash says, switching out his pistol for his rifle. “Radio me if you spot them.”

“Yessir.”

The interior of the Temple is huge, in a way that Wash… isn’t used to. Interiors of buildings and ships are always… small. Even the Tartarus’s center, open for floors upon floors, had always felt claustrophobic. But here, the ceiling is a high arch, curved in such a way that every slightest sound is audible, and the sleek, steel ramps curve around the walls, hinting at a never-ending maze of rooms. The light is a strange greyish blue and… alien.

And there, in the center of the room, is the handle of a sword just like Tucker’s.

“Do you truly think you are worthy?”

Wash turns around, and gapes.

An alien being, made entirely of dark red light, stands in front of him, gazing down on him with contempt.

An artificial intelligence. An alien artificial intelligence.

Wash really hates his life.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m worthy or not.” Wash turns his back to the A.I. and strides across the room to the sword.

“You don’t believe it matters?”

“No. What matters… is what I do next.” He crouches down, beside the hilt, which sits, like it has sat for probably hundreds if not thousands of years, before picking it up.

It feels… different, from Tucker’s sword. It’s still heavy, but the weight of it is different, and there is no feeling of wrongness spreading outwards from his hand. Instead, he thinks he can feel the pattern of the grip changing in his hand, shifting itself to suit him, and when he raises it, it bursts to life in front of him, forming the familiar lines of a Sanghelli Blade.

He looks up, and the alien is gone.

Wash almost wonders if he’d imagined it, but he knows that it really doesn’t matter.

The sword is bound to him until he dies.

“You really think the Chairman'll let you go?”

A sword, which, in Felix or Locus’s hands, could easily spell the end to this entire planet.

“Tell that to the sixteen year olds running around wearing armor.”

Teenagers in an army, fighting a war… a war that Wash can’t even begin to comprehend.

“You’re also willing to kill an entire goddamn planet just so you end up okay? Your freedom is worth that much, huh?”

Wash is in this war, on the wrong side. He can’t deny that. Felix and Locus would do anything to get their hands on this key. They will do anything to kill off this planet and collect their paycheck.

But it’s not in their hands.

It’s in his.

Wash lowers his hand, and the blade flickers out.

He knows what he has to do next.

His radio pings, letting him know that Felix is trying to establish a connection. He’s on his way to join Wash, and he’s probably excited about getting his hands on the sword. He doesn’t know Wash already has it.

He doesn’t know what Wash is planning on doing next.

Wash takes a deep breath inside of his helmet, trying to appreciate the safety, the security, of his armor. Because, soon, he won’t have that.

He’s going back to prison after all.

He’s survived… everything, and in the end, it’s all for nothing.

He shakes his head, because if he dwells on that, he might change his mind. And he knows he can’t. He has to follow this through, has to face the consequences of his actions.

Lavernius Tucker might be irritating, but he was right about at least one thing.

Wash isn’t the good guy in this story.

He keeps walking through the Temple, out into the wide open, snow spotted mountaintop. He clips the sword to his side, like he’s seen Lavernius Tucker do, and it clicks into place, proving once and for all that ancient alien technology is a strange, indecipherable thing, that can somehow interact with modern human armor systems.

In the distance, he sees a Federal Army of Chorus pelican circling, and he breathes a sigh of relief.

Felix’s radio pings his again, but Wash still doesn’t open the channel. If he’s about to turn traitor, he doesn’t have to listen to Felix’s voice anymore, and he’s going to take full advantage of that.

Wash turns around, and there’s a sword at his throat.

“Washington,” Tucker says.

“Tucker.” Slowly, Wash raises his hands in the air, dropping his rifle.

Tucker stares at him, slowly, incredulously.

“I surrender,” Wash says, just to make sure he’s getting the point across.

“You expect me to believe that?” Tucker demands.

“Felix and Locus will kill everyone on this planet if they get this sword.” He watches as Tucker’s helmet twitches slightly, probably having only just noticed the sword clipped to Wash’s leg.

“And since when do you have a problem with that?” Tucker lowers his own sword. “Whatever happened to “We’re fighting an army, not a planet,” huh?”

“Are you really going to argue with me about surrendering?” Wash demands, feeling a headache beginning to build.

For a moment, Wash thinks Tucker’s about to follow through on his earlier declarations, and just kill him right on the spot.

But then Carolina emerges over Tucker’s shoulder, keeping her gun trained right on him. Wash feels his heart speed up in his chest, and he does his best to not allow it to affect his stance, with his hands still held up in the air.

“He surrendered,” Tucker says. “Anyone got any handcuffs that aren’t pink and fuzzy?”

“You expect me to believe you don’t?” Carolina’s voice is tinged with affection in a way that completely throws Wash off. But her gun doesn’t waver from Wash’s helmet, aimed in such a way that Wash knows that one shot could put him down for good.

In his mind, Carolina has always been like she was during the project; stressed, competitive, and on the verge of collapse, just like the rest of them.

But, standing next to Tucker, the two of them unfathomably comfortable, Wash realizes, with a lurch, that she’s changed.

The vision the alien A.I. had provided had gotten it wrong, at least about Carolina. Carolina, standing here, is different from Freelancer. She’s grown. She’s changed. She’s happy.

Envy sweeps through Wash, strong enough to choke him.

“Did you not just hear me say that mine are pink and fuzzy?” Tucker says. “Donut swapped them all out because he says that metal ones are a hazard in the bedroom.”

“What makes you think he didn’t get mine?”

“Because you’d have switched them back.”

Carolina lets out a soft laugh that freezes Wash in place. “Cover me.”

Tucker switches out his sword for his gun, and Wash is shoved against the side of the mountain, cuffed, and relieved of his weapons. Wash grits his teeth so tightly that they hurt as the cuffs close around his wrists, keeping them trapped behind his back, but he doesn’t protest.

Carolina attaches the sword to her own leg but leaves the rest of his weapons there in the snow, and Wash doesn’t say anything, even though he wants to.

“Move,” she says. “Epsilon’s jamming your radio, so don’t even try to call for help.”

But the shove against his back isn’t as harsh as Wash might have expected.

The two of them lead him into a tunnel, dark and damp and cramp.

Wash struggles to keep his breathing even. It’s not prison. He’d never been in his armor in prison. He’s not there… he’s not injured, he’s not at the crash site. He’s… he’s fine.

This is fine.

“Why did you do it?” Tucker demands, suddenly.

Wash can’t help but turn around to look at him, even though it means that Carolina’s rifle digs into his shoulder.

“Do what?” Wash asks, so focused on how close the ceiling of the cave feels that he doesn’t realize the obvious answer as to what Tucker’s talking about.

“What do you think, dude? You let me go. Why?”

Wash should say something poignant, something clever; maybe even try to convince them that he’d always planned on betraying Felix and Locus, and that was him trying to prove it to them, use it to try to help his own situation.

But he’s exhausted and trying to stave off the claustrophobia, so he just tells the truth.

“Felix was going to kill you.”

“… and you care?”

“Tucker,” Carolina says quietly. “Later.”

“No! Not later.” Tucker steps forward, and shoves Wash backwards. Wash stumbles, but manages to stay upright, his boots sinking further into the snow. “I want to know why the fuck you’re changing your mind! You wanted to kill me, so why the fuck does it matter if Felix did it?”

“Because…” Wash’s breath is stuttering in his chest, and he feels like the ceiling above them is about to give, or maybe that’s just because he’s shaking so hard inside of his armor that absolutely nothing is standing still.

Nothing except the two figures in aqua armor in front of him, who aren’t even aiming their weapons at him anymore, just watching him.

“Wash, focus!” Carolina demands, her voice cutting through the haze in his head.

The world stops spinning, and Wash realizes he’s leaning against the wall of the tunnel, having a fucking panic attack.

“Why?” Tucker demands again.

“Tucker,” Carolina growls in warning, but Wash looks over her shoulder, right at Tucker.

“You were right,” Wash whispers, his throat dry. “I was just… following orders.”

“And that makes it okay?”

“No.” Wash tries to stand up straight, and stumbles. Carolina catches him by the elbow, more gently than she has to.

More gently than Wash deserves, that’s for sure.

“You want a choice again,” Carolina says, softly. He can’t see her expression, but her grip on his arm is supporting, not gripping.

“Yes,” Wash says. “I’m… you were right. What Charon is doing is wrong, and I was helping them, and I… I just wanted to not go back to prison.” He swallows. “I’m a soldier. Not a killer. Or at least… I’m supposed to be.”

Carolina and Tucker look at each other. And, in a flash of light, Epsilon pops into view.

“Well, what do you think?” Carolina says.

“Eh, good enough for me,” Epsilon says, his avatar shrugging.

“Kimball’s not going to like this,” Carolina says, sounding amused.

“Oh, and you think Doyle will?” Tucker snickers.

“Eh, it’ll be good for them to agree on something,” Epsilon disappears and reappears closer to Tucker.

“That’s true! And we can probably sell Kimball on probation!” Tucker nods, enthusiastically.   

“What?” Wash asks, not sure if he’s at all following.

Carolina turns away from him. “Grif, prep the Pelican, we’re going right for the Communication Tower.”

“What? You got it! Holy shit, you’ve got a sword now?”

“Noooot exactly,” Epsilon says, sounding way too amused about all of this.   

“I don’t understand,” Wash says, still dizzy with adrenaline and confusion, as Tucker takes a step towards him.

The handcuffs fall into the snow, and vanish, too heavy to stay above the surface.

“Man, you Freelancers are kind of dumb sometimes, aren’t you?” Tucker says. “Welcome to Blue Team, Washington. If you fuck this up, Kimball will probably kill you before I can, but hey.”

“What? Why? After… after everything I did? You’re just… letting me go?”

“No, we’re letting you join the team! Dude, don’t you pay attention?”

“That makes no sense!”

“Look dude. You’ve got an alien sword that’s almost as cool as mine, we’re super outnumbered, you’ve decided to be less of a dick, and I already apparently owe you my goddamn life.”

“A second chance, Wash,” Carolina says, turning to face him. “Don’t… question if you deserve it or not too hard.”

“You can’t possibly be okay with this,” Wash says, staring at Tucker.

Tucker suddenly looks serious.

“Look, I’m not saying we’re buddies or best friends or anything like that dude, don’t get the wrong idea. But hey, you kiiiiind of only went to prison cuz we bailed on you, and I mean, Felix probably would’ve fucking killed you if you’d said no to helping him out, and you didn’t hand over the weapon that’d let them kill an entire planet.” He shrugs. “That counts for like, something.”

“Come on,” Carolina says. “The others are waiting for us.”

“Bet Caboose is going to love this,” Tucker says. “C’mon, Washington.”

He turns away from Wash, and keeps walking, out of the tunnel, leaving his back completely exposed.

Wash stares after him a moment, completely thrown off balance by all of this.

But, tentatively, he puts one foot in front of the other, and moves out of the tunnel, following Tucker and Carolina into the harsh, blinding light of day.  

From the Start it Was All Meant to Be

@hetaliawritersdiscord

On ao3

Prussia always hopes for something more, Russia thinks it's useless to want what is impossible, but both cling to what they have, even when it is nothing but the whisper of a memory. A fic for the Hetalia discord writer's otp event using the prompts "fate" and "do you trust me."

1817

It had been a beautiful wedding and the festivities continued for some time afterwards. Of course Prussia took full advantage of the fact. Even if she was not marrying an heir to the Russian throne it wasn’t every day a Prussian princess got married. He was happy for little Charlotte too, since the last time he spoke to her she seemed so happy and so in love with Nicolas. That was good, it would make things easier for her at least. That had not been their final good-bye, that would come later when it was time for him to leave. However it was their final in depth talk and there was something bittersweet about it for he had a unique fondness for the children of his beloved dead queen Louise.

It was not the time to think of such things though, it was the time to enjoy himself and to indulge in dancing, gossip, good food, and drink. As he was recovering from his latest dance he felt a presence behind him and turned around, it was Russia.

“If you’re trying to sneak up on me to attack me you should know you can’t woo me like that at little Charlotte’s party,” he said with a sly looking smirk.

Russia raised an eyebrow. He didn’t really understand what Prussia was getting at, or that he was seriously flirting with him. Still he found his behavior amusing, though mildly irritating as well.

There was no need to attack him, Russia thought, were they not allies? “I had no intention to, do you not trust me?” Prussia’s smirk widened, “No.” Then he gave a quick wink, which confused Russia further, though he knew there was some jest involved so a small smile appeared on his face.

“It seems the feeling is mutual.”

Prussia got closer, almost leaning into Russia’s face. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Before Russia could do anything about this or even register how close he was Prussia backed away and in a more serious tone said, “But seriously, take care of Charlotte ok? She’s a good girl, like her mother. Maybe a bit more simple but she’s still fun and she’s got a good heart and a good head on her shoulders. She shouldn’t be a problem and I’m sure she’ll make Nicolas a good wife.”

The concern was such a turn around from before so it surprised Russia, and also, though he wouldn’t fully admit it, slightly touched his heart. He felt the same at times towards the grand duchesses who were married off. He thought it was never good to be too attached, but he had met Louise briefly a few times and agreed she had been an exceptional woman. Given her early death no wonder Prussia held her children dear.

“She is called Alexandera Feodorovna now…but I shall. Given this involves someone other than yourself, someone that my prince adores very much you can trust me on that at least.”

Prussia smiled a little, “You got me there.” By now he was in a pensive mood and his face betrayed that. His usual smirk was gone and was replaced with a more thoughtful and serious expression. Prussia didn’t notice this, but Russia did. Despite himself he unwillingly thought for a moment that Prussia was almost handsome, but that his horrible smirk and worse mouth and personality ruined everything. Troubled by this that thought was quickly whisked away and tucked into the recesses of his mind.

“It’s nice really, how taken they are with each other. Let’s hope it lasts,” Prussia said.

Russia nodded, “It is nice, it was almost at first sight. Do you believe in fate?”

Prussia shuddered and turned to him, what a horrible word. “No.”

-

Years later when Alexandra and Nicolas became tsar and tsarinia of Russia he turned to Prussia again and asked him the same question. Once more Prussia said, “Of course not. Just cause Alexander I died doesn't mean it was fate. People die of typhus all the damn time.”

The subject was then changed and the coronation continued. However Russia noted a tinge of fear in Prussia’s eyes and a thirst for something, it unsettled him greatly.

He wasn’t wrong. Prussia greatly feared the concept of fate. If there was anything he craved it was control, to be in charge of his own nation’s destiny and path, to move forward and advance and grow powerful with no restrictions. Fate hemmed him in and made him subject to powers greater than himself with no choice or way to change what would be, a notion that left him powerless and helpless and all his efforts for naught. Prussia wanted to grab life by the hand and bend it to his will, Prussia wanted to make his mark in the world and make him and his people great in order to survive and live. Fate played no part in his plans.

Russia meanwhile greatly believed in the idea of fate, and although he wanted power to protect himself as well, was much more fatalistic. To him Prussia’s response was horribly western and terribly arrogant. Yet, there was something admirable in that thirst and fire that Prussia had. He enjoyed watching it and a part of him hoped it would never be quenched. “Perhaps you are right in that matter. I hope Nicolas shall rule well, but we’ll see. Oh and my trust in one matter has been kept. Alexandra Feodorovna is well, though she told me to tell you she misses you, her homeland, very much.”

In that moment Russia was terribly surprised once more, for a warm nostalgic smile crept upon Prussia’s face and there was a tenderness in his eyes. For a moment he once again looked handsome, but then it quickly passed.

-

1989-

Years later both Alexandra and Nicolas were dead, and the monarchy for both Prussia and Russia had long passed as well. Prussia was gone too, yet the personification that had once been Prussia remained, grasping to life and becoming something else, changing his skin as he had done before and becoming the German Democratic Republic.

Russia had not wanted him dead, as furious as he was with him ,and watched with cautious amazement as he continued to live and to thrive against all odds. It seemed the GDR truly had put a choke-hold on fate and he was both captivated and saddened, for it came at a terrible price; to be reduced to a deranged shadow of his former self, a pathetic figure desperate for recognition and a second chance. In the end though he deemed it needed for it benefited him and his people, and they came first.

By the 1980′s Russia mused that fate had caught up with both of them and both of them held a disgust towards themselves, towards one another, and towards the ideology they no longer truly believed in. Neither recalled their previous conversations, but once again Russia thought of everything in the past century and bitterly considered it both their fates.

It was a classic tragedy, their hubris had brought both of them down, he thought, as he looked at the city of Moscow. Then he turned to the GDR who was smoking a cigarette and nursing a large bottle of vodka. He looked like a wreck, but Russia knew he did too.

The GDR certainly felt like a wreck, but refused to admit it as he felt the people’s anger and his own simmering in his heart, feelings long denied and locked away.

“Do you think all this has been fated?” came Russia’s piercing question. As the GDR looked at him he had the eyes of a desperate caged animal and few rasping coughs came out. “No, he said. “Don’t talk bullshit. There’s no such fucking thing. I’ve survived on my own and I’ll keep living no matter what I have to fucking do.”

“What about what your people wish?"Russia asked, it was a question directed at himself as much as it was towards the German Democratic Republic.

However he didn’t see that and glared at him again, his heart torn in many different directions. “Like I said shut up, why the hell should I listen to you? I don’t trust you.”

Russia smiled softly, that spirit was still there, corrupted as it was. “You never have, remember?”

The German Democratic Republic did not wish to remember the past as of yet, but he knew he had to eventually. A hollow laugh crept out, “I guess some shit never changes then.” But more would change drastically in the coming months, though they knew it not.

-

2018-

Several decades later since those changes had come to pass they stood in the former Winter Palace in St Petersburg, now the Hermitage Museum. It was closed for maintenance for the day and Russia had taken that as an opportunity to visit the museum at his leisure without the crowds so often filling it.

Since he could have some sense of privacy he decided to treat Gilbert for once and take him as well. The two of them walked in its vast gilded halls, and as they did and viewed the objects of days past they were steeped in thought and feelings.

In that moment Gilbert partly wanted to ask Russia if he missed it, if he missed being an empire, if he got the feeling he himself always got when he visited the Sanssouci, but he decided not to. It simply wasn’t the same, even if Russia did miss it he could never understand the hollow empty feeling in Gilbert’s soul, that terrible aching feeling of longing he always had. He himself often refused to acknowledge it. It was simply too painful. To no longer have a people, a land, a nation, that was him.

“You look unusually serious. Are you thinking about something?” Russia asked, secretly thinking Gilbert handsome in that moment and feeling slightly flustered in his secret heart at his internal acknowledgment of that feeling.

“It’s nothing,” Gilbert said. They both knew he was lying.

“Are you sure?”” Russia asked.

Gilbert nodded, “”Yeah, you trust me?”

Russia snorted and said, “Of course not.”

Gilbert then smirked and gave Russia a slight press on his foot with his boot which Russia returned in a slightly harder fashion. “Same here and I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Gilbert said.

They continued walking onward till they went to a room which had once upon a time held people dancing gaily amid music, laughter, and light. Now it held simply painting and the memories of two beings centuries old.

Gilbert turned to Russia and said, “”Hey remember when little Charlotte got married and there was this really kickass reception here and remember that time a few months afterwards there was this ball and she missed me so much I even got my self invited cause she requested my presence. Bet you didn’t expect to see me, huh? Bet I took your breath away with how dashing and hot I was.” He was partly joking, but he was also flirting and cemented that fact with a sly grin and a playful wink.

Russia turned his face away slightly, but the vaguely amused look on it and the slight blush coating his cheeks was evident. “Of course I wasn’t surprised. She told me, and you looked terrible.”

Gilbert pouted, “Nice joke, but I know the truth. Anyway thinking about balls…you sure no one’s here?”

Russia nodded, “I’m quite sure. I wouldn’t have taken you otherwise.”

“Because like a fair maiden you’re embarrassed at being involved with someone so sexy I see!”

Russia snorted, but Gilbert ignored that and kept talking. “Anyways, since there’s no one around I figure what’s the harm if we pretend it’s how it used to be and that we’re at a ball. Since it was the 1800′s we never did get to dance together. Isn’t that sorta like a missed opportunity we can make up now if we pretend hard enough?”

For a moment Russia was surprised, but then a nostalgic almost tender look came into his eyes. His voice remained impassive however as he said, “I suppose one dance couldn’t hurt. It’s a pity there’s no music.”

“Want me to hum?” Gilbert asked.

“No,” Russia said bluntly. Anything but that, he thought.

“Fine, but you’re missing out. I’m amazing at it,” and then they took one another’s worn rough hands and began their dance. It was a simple waltz wordlessly agreed upon by both and while Gilbert attempted to lead he was quickly beaten in his efforts by Russia who was taller and had more leverage. He grumbled but the two kept dancing, keeping rhythm to the remembered melody of times past in their heads.

Gilbert was filled with nostalgia as he recalled candlelit ballrooms, floating gowns of long dead women, and the light and laughter of times passed as people danced wildly into the early hours of the night and people talked and gossiped and drank, nobility all thronging around the great room. He missed it, he missed it desperately. It would never return and he would never have the chance to expedience it with Russia or dance with him again. He was lost forevermore, a shadow of the past, a ghost dancing in a memory.

Russia too was nostalgic, but he had life and a future before him. Even so he was lost too, looking back yet forgetting always and knowing he would never get this chance with Gilbert again, and no matter how hard either pretended it could never be as it was. Even the Prussia he loved was simply a memory, he had died long ago. He wasn’t sure when, perhaps in 1947 or perhaps in 1990. All he knew was the Gilbert before him was a broken whisper of the being he still loved, an ember that sputtered every so often where there was once a roaring flame.

Decades later some time after Gilbert’s death on one grey winter morning Russia visited his grave in the bone bare forests near Kaliningrad and thought to himself, ”Yes, this was fate.”

Title: Six Became Four

Prompt: No prompt.

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Pairing: Hiccup/Astrid/Fishlegs/Snotlout/Ruffnut/Tuffnut (polyamorous gang)

Word Count: 5509

Rating: Adult

Warnings: Major Character death, Grief

Disclaimer: I don’t own the source material in this fanfic. That’s to whatever company or person owns it. I would never claim to own it.

Notes: There are probable influences from fandom and whatnot in this story. This story takes place many years in the future, roughly 60 years after the first movie, set when the gang is in their mid-70s. This fic is because of a post I made and shoutout to @primedoverlord who made the post worse (and better) and also pretty much inspired me to write this (and is responsible for the “I came into this world screaming in someone else’s blood, I plan to go out the same way.” line). It exists because of you. Also, I lowkey feel like recent events (Bryn’s death and Hiccup’s reaction) in @evilwriter37‘s “Infernal Fascination” (explicit nsfw content at the link) was sort of inspirational (in terms of like, how to write something like this well, I suppose). (Like, it was definitely on my mind a lot when I wrote this.) The sentence about “destroyed their world” is inspired/lifted/modified from Patton Oswalt’s stand-up special Annihilation that’s on Netflix (when he talks about telling his daughter that her mother/his wife has passed away). Astrid and Revna counting the children/niblings is inspired by Wen Spencer’s A Brother’s Price. Also, comments would be appreciated! 😊

And it is under the read more.

     “We will handle the battle,” Revna said to her parents.

 By ‘we’ she meant herself, six of her seven siblings, all of her siblings-in-law, and other Berkians. Her second-youngest sister, Oydis (who was currently pregnant), and her parents’ grandchildren— her niblings, were going to stay with her parents, even though there were niblings currently older than her parents were at the time they fought the Red Death some sixty years prior. She was certain the older niblings were a bit miffed at that, but they would listen to their Aunt and Chief. She was going to protect as much of her family as she could.

 She saw some of her parents easily agree to that. Papa Fishlegs nodded quietly and doted on one of her young niblings. Daddy Snotlout, who she would have expected to disagree, actually nodded.

 She looked at Chief Dad— who at this point hadn’t been Chief in more than twenty years, but that was what she always had called him, and that was unlikely to change when she was over fifty, and he nodded, with a little bit of a hesitance and concern, likely afraid that any of his— theirs— the sixsome’s children would perish in the battle. She understood that fear, even if she had no offspring herself.

 “I agree. We’ll stay with the grandchildren. None of us will fight,” Hiccup said.

 There was some resistance from her some of her parents at this comment. Her parents had been Dragon Riders for sixty years, she expected that— they were a stubborn group, to be sure. “We’re a pretty stubborn group” should have been the Haddock family motto.

 “What?!” Mom Nut— Ruffnut exclaimed. “And let our kids die in battle?! Hel No! That’s not happening! We’re going!”

 Dad Nut, Tuffnut agreed.

 Ruffnut and Tuffnut stood up.

 “I don’t like the thought either, Wife, Husband. But someone has to watch and protect the grandchildren,” Astrid said, tugging at Tuffnut’s tunic.

 “We’re staying, Ruff, Tuff,” Hiccup said firmly, Chiefly.

 That seemed to end the discussion, but Revna was concerned about the shared look between Mom Nut and Dad Nut as they sat back down. That twin connection was there. And she knew: it was a formidable connection.

      After seven of their children went into battle, Ruff and Tuff excused themselves to one of the bedrooms. Maybe they would take a nap and sleep through it, not stay awake worried.

 They sat down on the bed and looked at each other.

 “We’re not staying,” Ruff and Tuff said at the same time, perfectly in unison.

 The two of them pressed their foreheads together. They stayed like that for a long moment, and breathed together, as one.

 When they finally pulled away, Ruffnut said, “I can’t just sit here and wait. There are nearly two dozen of the people we love most in the world in this house, including a set of twins in the womb. Seven of our children are out there, in a battle. I do not want to see them die. And I don’t want to see anybody in this house die. I don’t. Astrid’s guarding the front door and if it gets to the enemies at our door, I don’t want to see her die. Or--”

 “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I’m with you, sis,” Tuffnut said. “Also, Oydis is having twins? How do you know?”

 “Hello? Twintuition. I gave birth to twins. I knew Astrid was having twins. Yeah, Oydis probably doesn’t realize she’s having twins, but she’s totally having twins,” Ruffnut said. “And I want her to have those babies.”

 Tuff nodded.

 “So, we’re going?” he asked.

 “Duh! I came into this world screaming in someone else’s blood, I plan to go out the same way,” Ruffnut said.

 Together the twins opened the window, called Barf and Belch, and flew off together, to protect Berk, and their large family.

      Hiccup sat with one of his grandchildren in his arms, who was asleep against his chest, with Toothless right next to the two of them. Hiccup felt content, even if his heart ached just a bit because seven of his babies, including the parent of the grandchild in his arms, were off fighting a battle. He didn’t want to lose any of them. He was there when they were all born, and he would rather not be here when they died.

 He watched as his second-youngest, Oydis, pensively wrung her hands.

 Oydis got up and Hiccup heard Fishlegs tell her to rest, that she should have a snack, for her and her growing baby, that her obvious anxiety was not going to help matters, but that it was okay for her to feel those feelings. She nodded, saying she was going to go see if her Parent Nuts wanted to snack with her.

 She came back even more anxious.

 Oydis tapped Hiccup’s shoulder and he looked up at her.

 Hiccup felt anxiety pool in his stomach as his second-youngest daughter looked at him with wide frightened eyes and whispered loudly, “Dad! They’re not there!”

 “What did you say?” Snotlout asked, getting up from where he had been and walking over to them. The same thing happened with Fishlegs, as well as Astrid, who had moved from where she had been standing by the door with Asbiorg, aged twenty-two, Oydis’ eldest niece and her parents’ eldest grandchild, guarding it.

 The eyes of four of her parents were looking at her.

 “Parent Nuts are not in any of the other rooms! One of the bedroom windows is open and it doesn’t look like Barf and Belch are here, either.”

 “Oh no,” Hiccup said.

 He looked at three of his spouses and was met with the same expressions on their face, that he expected he too shared. Wide-eyed fear.

      As Revna and her siblings fought both in the sky and on the ground, she caught sight of a Zippleback with two people on it, and realized… oh no.

 “Rev!” Folkeseks exclaimed, as he flew beside her, being her wingman. “Is that Barf and Belch? And Parent Nuts?”

 He tossed her his spyglass and she looked through it. Sure enough, that was two of their parents. Technically, Dad Nut was Uncle Nut to Folky and Spike and Knut, but no one in the family really cared about those distinctions.

 She tampered down on the urge to growl.

      Hiccup wanted to leave their home and go find two of their spouses, and while he was sure that he and Toothless could do this, he also knew that he had said they would stay, they would stay and protect the grandchildren. And his very pregnant daughter, who looked as nervous as he felt.

 Plus, Snotlout had sat down next to him, took his hand and said, “Don’t you dare leave, either. For once in your life, don’t be reckless.”

 Hiccup squeezed his husband’s hand and felt his chest hurt with tension and stress and fear. But he held Snotlout’s hand like a lifeline, like if they held onto each other, everything would be fine.

 “Thor, bring them back safe,” Hiccup prayed softly. Bring back his seven children and his two spouses.

 His heart ached even more.

      The last thing Ruff and Tuff told Barf and Belch was for the dragon to fly off and leave them here. This was their fight. This was their battlefield. They were going to protect their home. Their family.

      Ruff had been separated from her twin in the battle, and she hoped to find him again. She took a shallow breath, finding it hard to breathe deeper, and clutched her side. She felt pain. Her heart told her to keep going in the direction she was going.

 She wanted to shout his name but could only muster a cracked whisper.

 She eventually found him.

 Too tired to keep walking, Ruff fell to the ground and dragged her injured and old body to her just as injured and old twin. She threw an arm around him, struggled to grab onto his available hand, and him helping her by moving it enough so they could hold hands. She felt his body move with shaky breath, relieved that he was still with her on Midgard. But she felt it in her body, and felt it with her Twintuition… they were not going to be on Midgard much longer. They were going to Valhalla together. Born together, live together, die together.

 “Tuff,” she whispered. “I’m here.”

 She felt him move an arm so that he was holding onto her as well.

 “Same, sis,” he replied. “We got ‘em?”

 “Yeah, we got ‘em.”

 “That’s good,” Tuff responded softly.

 “Meet you at the Table of Kings?” Ruff asked.

 “See you there.”

      Revna had last seen Barf and Belch (and her parents) fly off towards the ground battle. She later saw the dragon fly off without any riders. She was certain that they were somewhere on that battlefield.

 Now, with the battle complete, her orders were clear to her siblings and siblings-in-law: Find Mom and Dad.

      “Revna!” called Balder.

 Revna turned at the voice of her brother, and he approached her. And as he approached her, she could see some tear tracks on his face. No.

 She knew whatever he had to tell her was going to wreck her world.

      “Best we can tell,” Balder explained, as he walked with Revna to the site. “One of them must have dragged themselves over to the other. This is how we found them.”

 And there it was.

 Two parts of her heart, of her siblings’ hearts, of her parents’ hearts, of her whole family’s heart were gone. Two people who she loved so much, who had raised her, had loved her, had made her life fun and joyous and whole, were gone.

 She wanted it to not be true. She wanted it to be some kind of trick. That they’d pop up any moment and say “Loki’d!” in that infuriating way.

 But, six of her siblings were here, and they all were weeping.

 She dropped to her knees and reached forward to touch Mom Nut’s neck. To check. To make sure.

 “I… already, uh, did that,” she heard Balder’s voice say thickly.

 No pulse. No life. No warmth.

 And the same thing happened when she touched Dad Nut’s neck.

 She heard a dragon call that in her head instantly translated to Zippleback in distress. She looked up, her eyes blurry, and saw that Barf and Belch were with them. She had seen the dragon fly off without them (probably on their orders), and the dragon must have come back at some point. Barf and Belch let out two calls of distress.

 It was one of the worst things she ever heard.

      Revna was not certain how long they stayed in that spot, mourning over the loss of two amazing people from their lives, but she was not going to deny them (or her) right to mourn. She knew that they would have to pull themselves together for what she knew was going to be the worst part of this, and she wasn’t quite ready for that.

 She took an unsteady breath, and some more tears fell.

 “What do we do now?” Ylvasiri asked.

 Revna took another breath, this time steadier, willing herself to be the strong Chief she was, and said, “We bring them home.”

 While certainly, it would have been easier for them to send her parents to Valhalla here, on the battlefield, but she would be denying a large section of their family (and especially, her still-living parents) that. She knew in her heart that it would cause her mother and fathers more distress and she did not wish to do that.

 So, they wrapped up Ruff and Tuff in a sheet, as carefully as they could, making sure they were together, and placed them on Barf and Belch’s back, who allowed Knut and Spike to ride them, and allowed one of Revna’s siblings-in-law onto their back as well.

 Now they could head home.

      When Revna and her contingent touched down at her parent’s house, Oydis and Asbiorg, immediately came out of the house, closing the door behind them.

 “Did you find them?” Oydis asked.

 Revna nodded to her sister. She turned to her niece and said, “I want you to get your siblings and cousins and go to your dad’s house. Okay?”

 Asbiorg nodded quietly and did as she was told.

 Revna quietly counted all of her niblings as they left. Sixteen. They were all there.

 Oydis nervously wrung her hands as she watched the procession of her niblings, who were being escorted by a couple of her siblings-in-law.

 When her parents’ grandchildren had all headed to her brother’s house, Oydis asked again, “Did you find Mom and Dad Nut? Are they…?”

 She nervously wrung her hands.

 She looked at her twin, Ragnhild, who clearly had tearstains on her face, mixed with dirt from the battle, and just… knew from looking at her.

 She rushed over to her twin and embraced her, and they held each other for a long time while they cried. Oydis then hugged her husband.

 Revna let her sister mourn her parents just like she had let her siblings mourn them earlier. But, she knew what was left of her parents were anxiously awaiting news about their spouses.

 “Oydis,” Revna said. She gently grabbed her sister by the shoulders, and looked her straight in the eye.

 “I need you to put yourself together for a bit, because in a minute we have to go tell our parents what happened,” Revna said. She wiped away a tear from her sister’s face. Revna’s voice cracked, “And we have to be there for them.”

 Revna sucked in a breath, willing herself to be strong.

 Revna took Oydis’ hand and squeezed it.

 Oydis nodded.

       Fishlegs, Astrid, Hiccup, and Snotlout sat together on a bench, anxiously waiting for their children to come inside with Ruff and Tuff, and they could— maybe not scold but gently chide them, and then envelope them in their arms.

 The door finally opened, and one by one, their eight children walked in, solemnly, quietly, with Revna being the last one in.

 “Eight,” Astrid whispered, in a relieved voice.

 But the fact that Revna was the last one in, and it was just them, no Ruffnut and Tuffnut, killed the relief with an axe.

 They all felt a painful sense of dread in their stomach and an ache in their heart.

 Hiccup was almost afraid to speak. None of them wanted to ask the question.

 Their children all slowly approached them, Revna in the middle, and finally, when they were a few feet from them, Hiccup found his voice enough to ask, "Where's Ruff and Tuff, Revna?" Revna looked at the four parents she had left and saw that they were holding each other's hands. It was an action she had seen so many times in her life. Whether a six-person handhold or a smaller-numbered person handhold. She had seen it at the birth of Oydis and Ragnhild, and pretty much every day of her life. It was such a beautiful thing to see. It gave her great comfort because it essentially meant her world was whole.

 But it wasn’t now.

 Revna sat down in front of her parents and destroyed their world.

      She had never heard her mother sob like that— or any of her parents, in her entire five decades of life. She had certainly seen them cry, of course, before, but nothing like this. There had been talk how they had cried more on the day she was born than she, a newborn, had. And she believed it. She had seen them cry full of joy, because of new life. Watching them cry the day Oydis and Ragnhild were born had been an incredible experience. And they had been so happy and weepy when each of their grandchildren had been born.

 This crying was not like that.

 This crying was full of despair.

 Like, everything had been taken from them. And it might as well have been.

 It was awful. This had to be worse than actually finding the bodies of two of her parents.

 All she and her siblings could do was converge on their parents and hold them close and try to comfort them even though in her broken heart she knew that it was essentially futile.

      “Did you find them separately? Did they die alone?” Hiccup asked, hoarsely, once he was able to speak. He said it fearfully, like he was dreading her response. Like, if she said the wrong thing it would shatter them completely. She even saw his lips quiver.

 She looked at Astrid, Fishlegs, and Snotlout and saw their lips quiver as well.

 “No. They were together. We found them together,” Revna said. “They were together in each other’s arms.”

 That elicited another sob from her parents.

 But also, a soft “Thank Thor” from all four of them.

 She knew what their fear must have been. That Ruffnut and Tuffnut had died alone and in pain, with no one with them, when they left for Valhalla. They had been together their entire lives, since the womb, and to not be together in death would have been an awful way to go.

 But they had been together. They had found them together. They had not been separated by death. They were together, even on their journey to Valhalla.

 But they were no longer with her parents.

 And the six of them had been together, first as friends and teammates, and then as romantic partners, for some sixty years.

 And now they were four. They were incomplete.

 Together, the six of them had created this amazing life together that had included dragons and the births of two dozen people (and counting), because the six of them had looked at each other more than fifty years ago and had decided they wanted to be together. And they had been so happy. Two dozen people literally existed because of them.

 And now two of the six were just gone.

      “Did you,” Fishlegs began. He sniffed. More tears fell from his eyes. “Did you already give them their funeral rites?”

 “We brought them home. So, we could do it here,” Revna said. “So, the whole family could say goodbye.”

 The four of them just nodded quietly.

 Snotlout covered his eyes with one of his hands.

 “I’m thinking we’ll do that tomorrow, is that okay?” Revna asked.

 Another set of four nods.

 “Where are they now?” Astrid asked softly.

 “Barf and Belch are watching over them,” Revna said, gently. “Would you like me to bring Mom Nut and Dad Nut into the house? Until the funeral?”

 Another set of four nods.

      “I don’t want to do this,” Snotlout said. “I can’t.”

 The four of them were sitting in one of their bedrooms. Their children and children-in-law were going to lay Ruffnut and Tuffnut in one of the other bedrooms and then their children would see to the grandchildren. Revna had made it clear she was going to stay in the house with them. Spikenut, who had no children, had decided to do the same. The four had decided to go into a bedroom so they wouldn’t have to watch and because they were exhausted.

 “It’s for closure. So, we can say goodbye,” Astrid said gently.

 “I don’t need to see their lifeless corpses,” Snotlout said. Some more tears fell from his eyes. It was fairly easy for the tears to fall.

 “I’d rather remember them how they were in life,” Fishlegs whispered.

 “Yeah, same,” Snotlout said.

 “I thought we’d have more time,” Hiccup said. He could feel their eyes on him, but he was looking down so he had no proof that they were looking at them. “That it wouldn’t just… happen. Not like this. You know?”

 He looked up and saw three faces filled with sadness that he knew mirrored his own.

 “We made to our seventies! I just figured at this point in our lives, we would have just died of old age, or illness, where we’d get a chance to say goodbye to their still living person. And not be robbed of that. And not lose two of us to death in battle.” He sighed and some more tears fell.

 “They died to protect the family, and us,” Astrid said. “In my book, that’s a good way to go.”

 She watched them as they quietly nodded or wiped tears from their face, or did both.

 “It still hurts, though,” Astrid added, softly, looking down and shedding more tears.

 For a while there were no other sounds in the room aside from their quiet crying.

 And then there was a gentle knock.

 “Mom? Dads?” Revna said, voice muffled, just a tad. “If you wanna go see them, they’re in their bedroom.”

 Astrid gave a great sigh.

 She looked at the other three.

 All three of them wore looks on their faces that clearly said that they did not want to do this. They did not want to see the bodies of two people they had all loved for the vast majority of their lives. She understood that feeling. She didn’t want to do it either.

 But they had to.

 For a moment, her voice got dangerous, “Seven of our children, three of whom were in Ruffnut’s womb, found them on the battlefield.” And then her voice broke, “Our wonderful babies. Found two of their parents dead.”

 Hiccup’s heart ached. He knew how that felt. And in his heart, he knew that his father was welcoming Ruffnut and Tuffnut to Valhalla with open arms.

 “I just. I think about that, and I have to see them. They had to do it, now so do I,” Astrid said. She nodded resolutely.

 “But you have to come with me,” Astrid said. “Please. As one. It’d be the last…” Astrid let out a breath and sobbed and the other three felt the tears fall from their own eyes. “Time we’ll all be together in one room.”

 Their amazing team of six was gone now. It was gone.

 Snotlout covered his eyes with his hands and his whole body shook.

 “Okay, I’ll come with you,” Fishlegs said.

 Hiccup took a breath. His heart ached fiercely and he willed himself to be strong. “Okay,” Hiccup said. “I’m coming with you, as well.”

 A moment passed and they let Snotlout cry quietly.

 “Honey?” Fishlegs asked, gently.

 Snotlout gave a sigh from behind his hands and said, “Okay. I’ll do it.”

      They took hold of each other’s hands, because otherwise none of them felt like they could have done it. They were a team. Always. They were there for each other. Forever. As one.

 Astrid opened the bedroom door and emerged first. Hiccup, Fishlegs, and Snotlout followed after her.

 “Parents?” Spikenut asked, softly.

 Revna immediately was nearby them, “Do you want me to go with you?” she asked gently. She went to take her mother’s hand.

 “No, baby,” Astrid said. “Your fathers and I are going alone.”

 Revna nodded.

 “Spike and I will be in the front room, okay?” Revna said quietly. Her hands hovered gently over their shoulders, not quite touching them. Like she was afraid that if she spoke too loud or touched them too hard they would fall apart.

 While Hiccup certainly appreciated that their daughter was being so gentle with them, and was sure Fishlegs felt the same way, he had the feeling Astrid was bristling at it. Maybe Snotlout too.

 And truth be told, Hiccup felt like he might fall apart at any moment.

 The four of them slowly walked to the bedroom in question.

 At the door, Astrid took a deep breath, and they followed with their own deep breaths. They took another deep breath, this time as one, and then Astrid took hold of the door handle and opened it. She stood by the door as the other three walked into the room, their hands just brushing her own, and then she followed them in and shut the door.

 They all stared silently at the shroud that had two people they had loved so dearly and ardently for many decades wrapped within it.

 It was like they had all fallen off a dragon. None of them could find it in them to breathe. Or make any sort of sound.

 Finally, Astrid took a very deep breath, bringing breath in her lungs, almost as to remind herself and her three husbands, that they were all still alive, even if part of their hearts had died.

 She looked at all of them and nodded.

 She approached the shroud slowly and her hands shook as they moved to touch the part of the sheet where their heads were.

 “No,” Fishlegs said.

 Astrid looked at him.

 “Together,” Fishlegs said.

 “Together,” Snotlout and Hiccup repeated.

 So, together, as they did all things, four sets of hands took hold of the shroud and pulled down.

 And there it was.

 Proof.

 That two members of a team that had held together for sixty years… were gone.

 Hiccup’s sharp gasp was like a knife into each of their beating hearts.

 Fishlegs’ whimper was most definitely a second knife into their hearts.

 Snotlout’s sob was like a third knife into their hearts.

 Astrid’s quiet and broken “Ruff. Tuff,” was the fourth knife that finished the job.

 They stared at the cold dead faces of two people they loved, and their hearts shattered.

 “Assholes, why’d you have to go and do that?” Snotlout said thickly.

 “Snotlout!” Fishlegs and Hiccup both said.

 “I think what Snotlout means, Ruff and Tuff,” Astrid said, looking down at their corpses, “Thank you for protecting the family, and we’ll always love you.”

 “Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean,” Snotlout said, pressing himself close to Astrid and laying his head against her shoulder. He sniffed.

 “I love you, Ruff. I love you, Tuff,” Hiccup said, his eyes filling with tears. “You made our lives bright and ridiculous and fun a-and amazing, and we miss you so much already. Say hi to my dad and Gobber.”

 Fishlegs let out a sob. All he could manage was an “I love you” directed to Ruff and Tuff.

 “Save us a couple of seats at the Table of Kings, huh?” Hiccup said.

      Revna watched as her four parents walked out of the bedroom.

 And they looked even worse.

 Yeah, she figured; she was not sure she’d ever quite recover from seeing two of her parents’ corpses.

 She regretted letting them go in alone or letting them go in at all. It accomplished nothing except causing them more distress.

 “Parents, do you need anything?” Revna asked.

 She knew in her heart that that what they needed, she could not give, though she wished she could.

 Gods, the way they looked at her and shook their head. Looking at her like they were one second away from just crying more.

 She watched as they headed silently into one of the bedrooms together. At least they didn’t go into separate bedrooms alone. She didn’t want them to be alone. At least they were together. In all things. Even their grief.

 Her heart ached.

 And she went to sit next to her little sister, Spike, to try to comfort her.

      The four of them entered one of their bedrooms. In a way, by closing the twins’ door was symbolic of closing the door on the life they had with six. It was gone. It was over. Closing the door to the bedroom they were currently in was further confirmation that the life they had all shared was over.

 Nothing was left but pain.

 “I should have gone after them,” Hiccup muttered as he crawled into bed. “Maybe I could have saved them.”

 “We would have been down to three,” Astrid responded, sadly, lying down next to him.

 The four of them could only find the energy to lie down next to each other, doing what had become instinct over the course of decades during harrowing times: being near each other. Lying down next to each other may not have made everything better, because nothing would, but it would help. They were down by two, but there were still four. And they needed to stick together, because…

 They had been a family for at least sixty years, however one defined that. Whether from the moment they first became Dragon Riders, or when they first started dating each other or when they married or even when their first child was born. They were a family. That was not going to change. They would not let it.

 But two of their family were gone and it hurt more than anything they had ever experienced.

 And so, while they cried themselves to sleep, they also fell asleep to the sound of each other crying.

      On a normal day, waking up next to each other would have been lovely. They relished it. They always had. Astrid recalled those lovely days when she was pregnant with Balder and Ruffnut with Spike and Knut and they would sleep next to each other. Waking up next to Ruffnut had been wonderful and her heart had been joy.

 And now as she looked at the sleeping faces she could see— Hiccup was not facing her, Snotlout and Fishlegs were, her heart was pain.

 And as the other three awoke, they were reminded of what they had lost, and watching each other’s faces remember that fact was devastating.

 They lay in bed, silent, not wanting to get out of bed, when a sharp knock on their bedroom door surprised them.

 Fishlegs gave a sharp gasp, Snotlout flinched, Hiccup moved his head sharply, and Astrid jerked in place, looking towards the door.

 “Mom? Dads? I’m coming in, okay?” Revna said.

 The door opened with a creak and Revna walked towards their bed, and sitting down at the edge of it.

 Gods, she could see how miserable they all looked. She sucked in a breath. She suddenly felt like a small child, like she had been many decades ago and when she was upset, these six people would comfort her and let her sleep in their beds or in their arms. Only now, she was much older, as were they, and they were down to four. She wanted to crawl into that bed with them and hold onto them. Their pain was also her pain.

 But she tamped down on that urge.

 “Hey,” she said gently. “I want you guys to come have breakfast with me and Spike, okay? The rest of the family’s gonna be here afterwards for the funeral.”

 They nodded silently.

 Revna got up for a moment and then sat back down.

 “I… uh… want you to know that I love you, okay? I love you all so much. And Mom Nut and Dad Nut, too. You guys made this amazing life for me and my siblings. And I love that life you made. I am who I am because of it and because of you. And, I just love you,” Revna said. “I’ll see you at the breakfast table.”

 Revna stood up and left the room, closing the door gently behind them.

 She stood beside it and silently cried.

      Revna was at the breakfast table already when they finally came to the table. She got up quickly and helped them to their seats. She kissed them on their cheeks. Her sister, Spike, did the same.

 It was a quiet affair. And normally, any meal time with her family was loud to put it lightly. They were a big family. It had started with six, then seven, then eight, then eleven, and then fourteen, and it had been thirty (not counting her siblings’ spouses), but now… it was twenty-eight. Thirty had become twenty-eight and six had become four.

 Her parents didn’t feel like talking, and she didn’t try to force this issue.

 Her heart ached too much with loss. Especially when she remembered with a pang how she had had dinner with them just a few days ago and it was happy and loud and they were all alive and well and happy and whole.

 And now they were not.

      They stood side-by-side, holding hands, with their children and their children’s spouses, their grandchildren, and the family’s dragons all around them (Toothless, as always, forever, was right next to Hiccup), staring at Ruff and Tuff’s ship. Spike and Knut stood with Barf and Belch.

 Surprising absolutely no one in their family, Ruff and Tuff had long requested that their funeral ship be lighted by Barf and Belch, or any available Zippleback, if Barf and Belch were unavailable. They, of course, granted that request.

 The explosion of Zippleback gas made her parents flinch but not cry. Revna looked at them and saw that they had no tears on any of their faces. She knew in her heart that they were beyond tears.

 And that there was nothing she could do to truly help them.

R76 Ficlet: Glow

A/N: It’s another fluffy AU with Jack and Gabe ‘cause that’s kinda all I’m good for. :D

Gabriel Reyes had been dying when he entered Faerie for the first time, a soldier on the verge of bleeding out who had accidentally cheated death by slipping through the wrong veil.

Decades later, it was the human realm that felt foreign to him; devoid of magic, unbound by rules. His body was no longer human, warped by the clash between fae magics and the touch of iron when a healing had been laid upon his shrapnel-riddled body. Time and immersion in Faerie had only changed him further, wakening traces of the old blood that hinted at things in his ancestry only described in folklore. He had magic of his own now, and age did not wear him down so readily...or perhaps time only held meaning for him outside of Faerie.

The price of his life was the severing of his ties to the human realm. Visitations were permitted him, a few hours every evening in the summer months. The veil thinned for him while the fireflies danced in flares of grace amid the gloaming shadows. It would have been an easy enough price to pay, except that he left his heart behind every time Faerie called him back.

Jack Morrison had been younger than him by a handful of years, a determined soldier serving under Gabriel's command. After the explosion that had ripped Gabriel away from his life, Jack had searched the field under cover of darkness for three nights, desperate for a sign of his missing commander. His persistence had paid off with what he had at first assumed to be a hallucination...or a nightmare. He had seen Gabriel, unable to breach the veil so soon after his healing gone awry, fruitlessly trying to claw his way back to the only reality he had known while his body flickered between the death of iron shrapnel and the life of fae magic.

When Jack had reached out for him, the tenuous connection between the realms had shattered. It hadn't kept Jack from coming back night after night, trying to find him again. He had only stopped when the company was given orders to move out. Jack had no choice but to go. He'd had only that single glimpse of Gabriel, enough time to call out to him, enough time to lose him again.

It shouldn't have been enough to bring him back—that nightmare vision, that inexplicable vanishing—and yet Jack returned. Once the war had ended and he had served the term he had enlisted for, Jack went back. Late in spring, he found the field, overgrown and only barely recognizable. He set up camp and he waited. Something had happened to Gabriel Reyes, and he was determined to discover what...even if in the end all he could do would be to say goodbye.

Gabriel returned with the fireflies to find Jack waiting for him. The soldier he had known had been a fresh-faced teenager taking on a harsh burden. The person who awaited him that cool, early summer's eve was a man, scarred and grown and changed in subtler ways than Gabriel himself. Neither of them had been prepared for the flood of Jack's relief, for the crushing hug, for the tears that couldn't be held back even as Jack grinned through them.

“I knew you were alive,” he kept repeating. “I knew it. I knew you couldn't be dead.”

They had precious little time, and it was hard for one to tell his story without the other interrupting with questions. Over the course of the summer, a few stolen hours at a time every night, they shared their doings over the past several years. Respect forged on the battlefield kindled into an easy friendship, and both were sorry for the summer to end, leaving the veil closed to Gabriel.

They promised to meet again in the coming year, and so it went, year in and year out. Decades passed. Jack grew older as Gabriel grew more fae, and still their bond held and strengthened. The price of his life weighed ever more heavily on Gabriel every time he had to leave Jack at the end of the season. His heart felt torn in two. Faerie, with all its wonders, began to feel like a cage. Unlike in the stories, love was no salvation, only bittersweet summer evenings and the pain of separation.

Gabriel did not speak to Jack of his feelings. Once a year, at the end of their time together, Gabriel offered to try to bring Jack across. The magic pulling him back to Faerie was strongest then, strong enough, he believed, to allow him to bring someone else along. Jack always refused, however. His ties to the world held him back. He couldn't give it up and allow himself to be bound as Gabriel was, and both were certain that three seasons would be time enough for Faerie to work its way under his skin. So they parted, year after year, and Gabriel held the secret of his love close. After all, what sort of future could they have together, tied to different worlds?

As the years bled into one another, however, his resolve began to weaken. He became painfully aware of time. Wrinkles creased Jack's once smooth skin. Silver frosted his hair. He was aging, while the years left Gabriel practically untouched. His invitations to Jack became pleas. His feelings and fears danced on the tip of his tongue, and it became harder and harder to swallow them back. Some nights, it almost seemed as if Jack felt the same way—nights when the way he looked at Gabriel seemed too soft even beneath the sweet haze of moonlight, nights when they sat close as lovers and watched the stars without need for words to pass the hours, nights when Jack's wistfulness as they parted made it so very hard to slip away without pulling him close for a kiss. Whatever it was Jack felt in their bond, however, it wasn't enough for him to take Gabriel's hand at the end of summer.

It hurt, fading away with his hand outstretched, empty where hope kept him waiting for the touch of Jack's fingers against his. It tore at him like a grenade, shredded his heart, and left his body untouched. Tired of torturing himself, Gabriel swore off returning more than once. Yet every summer, as the first firefly lifted from the grass and shone brightly in the blue shadows, he found himself watching Jack once more as he stepped through the veil.

He knew how it would all end, but hope was hard to kill. He understood now why it had been trapped with all the other evils Pandora had released. Hope was his own personal demon.

The summer passed by too quickly, as it always did. Jack's sight had gotten worse. His hair was as colorless as starlight. Gabriel loved him and ached for him and savored the time they had together.

As they watched the stars one evening, sitting shoulder to shoulder, too hot to be comfortable but unwilling to move apart, Jack sighed and cleared his throat. He had been pensive most nights, dwelling on thoughts he hadn't shared. Gabriel looked at him, but said nothing. Jack already knew he had Gabriel's full attention. He would speak when he was ready.

The question, when it came, startled Gabriel.

“Will you ask me to go with you again?” He was staring up at the stars, squinting a bit the way he always did nowadays when he wasn't wearing his glasses.

“I always do.” Hope, that undying bird, flapped its wings, and Gabriel's heartbeat sped up.

Jack nodded absently. It was confirmation of something he already knew.

“I put my things in order before coming out here this time. There isn't anything I want as much as I want....” He paused, looked down a moment, then raised his head and cast his gaze back up to the stars. “When you go back, I want to go with you,” he said quietly. Then, quieter still: “I love you, Gabe.”

Something broke. Staring at Jack's profile, seeing in his weathered, lined face echoes of that determined eighteen-year-old who had followed him into battle, Gabriel felt something within him crumble away like a sandcastle in the surf. Before he knew what was happening, he was falling in on himself, breaking up into a thousand points of joy, alight with the words he'd yearned to hear for years. Jack was turning to look at him, face a mask of shock that faded quickly to wonder, and still Gabriel broke apart and rose up, body transformed into a roiling storm of tiny wings, a swarm of fireflies.

He flew up, exhilarated, giddy with relief, with love, with his hopes made real at long last. Swooping, he danced through the air, orbiting Jack in a shifting trail of flickering lights. Individual fireflies lit upon Jack, kissed him with their light, and were off again. As Jack spun in place to follow the main body of them, his smile grew like the rising sun, and his eyes were wide with delight. Lit by moonlight and the there-and-gone streaks of light from the thousands of fireflies circling him, he was the most amazing sight Gabriel had ever seen.

Jack. Love you, Jack. So much. Love you so much.

Jack's laughter was rough and warm and perfect. “Gabe! Pull yourself together so I can kiss you!”

The fireflies twisted in midair, coalesced in front of Jack. They were a tickle on his nose, his lips, and then Gabriel was pulling himself together, emerging from the exultant lights to take Jack in his arms. They fit together with such a feeling of coming home that tears stung Gabriel's eyes. He smiled helplessly even as they threatened to overflow, and from the way Jack was hugging him so tightly, it seemed likely that he felt the same.

Their lips met, clumsy and rushed with excitement, huffs of laughter interrupting the kiss and breaking it off far more quickly than Gabriel would have liked. He contented himself with the heat of Jack's body against his, the tightness of the embrace, the knowledge that they would have plenty of opportunities, the promise of an untold number of tomorrows to explore together.

“Take me with you,” Jack murmured against his lips. He lifted his chin, leaving a line of kisses from the tip of Gabriel's nose up to his forehead. “Show me everything. I want to see it all with you.”

“I want to watch the sun rise together,” Gabriel murmured. Such a simple wish. As he caught Jack's lips in another kiss, he had no doubt that it would be worth the wait.

186: boundaries

The mountains of northern Vvardenfell were an unforgiving place, riddled with caves and gouged with deep, volcanic trenches. The latter, known locally as foyadas, were perilous to navigate, their steep sides granting travellers no escape from swooping cliff racers or marauding kagouti packs. No escape from the impressive acoustics, either. "Sixty-third came a Bosmer whore, toothy and stout, What goes in a Wood Elf's mouth doesn't come out! Sing ohhh, the loves of Boethiah! The ninety-nine loves of Boethiah!" It was only their second hour of hiking since breaking camp, but Iriel was already pondering self-targeted Silence spells, or, failing that, the sound-muffling properties of shalk resin.

"A Hist, twenty-eighth, spread its roots for a view, At least, that's what we think it was trying to do! Sing ohhh, the loves of Boethiah! The ninety-nine loves of Boethiah!" More than getting beetle-gunk permanently lodged in his auditory canal, Iriel was afraid of being passive-aggressive and spoiling the mood. Julan was in the kind of high spirits he usually only reached with the aid of at least four bottles. That said, Ire's tolerance had limits. "The fourteenth was a Sload with reversible tube, The thing about Sload is, you never need--" "You sang fourteenth already!" Ire couldn't keep the anguished betrayal from his voice. Julan glanced over his shoulder. "Did I?" he remarked blithely. "Yes! I've been keeping track! But it wasn't a Sload, it was something lurid about a Khajiit who was flexible enough to reach any part of his anatomy with his tongue." Iriel sucked in his cheeks, suddenly pensive. "I'm beginning to understand why Dro'Zaymar didn't require my company, that night in St Delyn." "Huh?" "Never mind. Are there really ninety-nine verses?" "'No, of course not!" "Oh, thank Mara." "There's far more than that, because if you run out, you make them up as you go along!" As Iriel closed his eyes and moaned, Julan gave him a condescending look. "Ire, you say filthier things than this all the time." "I know, but with these awful tavern songs, I'm always waiting for the next 'hilarious' thing that'll hit me somewhere it hurts. Humour like this depends on using other people for its punchlines." "Look, the one about the Nord girl with the plaited moustache I got from Sottilde, so--" "I don't care!" "I skipped all the verses about Altmer!" "I've already composed them in my head via guesswork, and upset myself, so you needn't have bothered!" "Lighten up, Ire. I sang the bit with the Dunmer who married a guar, didn't I? Nobody's safe with this sort of song." "Let me try one, then." Iriel chewed his lip for a while, then sang: "An Ashlander maid, sacred clit-rings on show, They have twelve words for 'fuck me' and no word for 'no'." To his satisfaction, Julan's face immediately darkened. "That," he said, "was over the line." "EXACTLY!!! Because you know where that line is! Stop pretending you do for everyone else!" Julan threw up a hand. "OK! Fine! Let's sing your one about the dead baby in the pond again, that'll keep our spirits up!" Iriel watched him march on ahead, skipping over rocks in his path, already humming the opening strains of The Kwama Miner's Daughter. Perhaps there was nothing extreme about Julan's cheerfulness, Iriel considered. Perhaps anyone would appear cheerful in comparison to himself, and the creeping dread that tugged, tar-like, at his heels with every step. His spirits require no support, while mine are beyond salvaging. What are we doing? What am I doing? What am I letting him do? "You're certain we're in the correct foyada?" Iriel ventured, when they stopped at midday to eat. He knew Julan's answer would be 'yes', regardless of truth, but that was why he'd asked - a desire for reassurance at any price. Every grey, lava-bitten channel snaking down from Red Mountain looked identical to him. "Of course!" Julan, grinning broadly, began indicating landmarks with a stick of scrib jerky. "I've spent my life in these mountains! Those pointed rock spires down there are Airan's Teeth, so this is Yamus bel-Shannarai, the Valley of the Wind. It's obviously the 'teeth of the wind' that stupid riddle was talking about." Ire allowed himself to be reassured. It was true, they were only a couple of hours south-west of the Grazelands, and from there, it was only a few more miles along the coast to the summer location of Julan's mother's camp. To Iriel's relief, Julan had expressed no desire to visit. "I've never heard of any secret shrines to Azura around here," he was saying. "I'd have thought Mother would know about it. But I guess that's why it's secret." He rolled his eyes. "Sheogorath knows why that wise woman had to make it a whole stupid riddle. We passed the test, didn't we? These old women love messing with your head for the attention, but you shouldn't encourage them." "I was just relieved she didn't want to stick needles in me," said Ire. "You can do all the talking, next time. You have a promise of guest rites, after all, it was your choice not to come with me to--" "I know, get off my back!" Julan was still grinning. "I want to have this proof from the cavern, first. Then I'll go to the Urshilaku and show them, explain that I'm the Nerevarine, and you were only helping me." He set his jaw at the distant horizon. "I'll show Mother, too." You could still say something. You could repeat what Zainsubani told you about his father, try to-- He knows! He's heard it and rejected it, so all you'd be doing is telling him you believed the word of a stranger over his! Faith, Ire. You said you were going to have faith in him. Yes, but... ugh! Walk, just walk. The foyada seemed eternal. It ran broadly south, but as the incline increased, it began a slow, fern-frond curl around a huge rock spur. They scrambled uphill through flowering heather, swarming with tiny copper moths that rose like dustclouds as they passed. As the day wore on, Iriel's exhaustion grew, but Julan's optimism remained undentable. "I've been thinking about this guest-rites thing," he said, at one point. "One of the most well-known prophecies is called The Stranger. That's where the famous line about Incarnates comes from: 'many fall, but one remains'. But it also has lines about the tribes welcoming a stranger to their hearth. And guess what? The Velothi word for stranger, hlarmut, can also be translated as guest, and that's the word used in guest rites!" His eyebrows leapt as he beamed into Iriel's impassive face. "So me receiving guest rites might be part of the prophecy! For the first time in forever, I'm making real progress!" Iriel made a noncommittal noise and faked the need to focus on the placement of his feet. I said I wouldn't stand in his way. I said I couldn't protect him by showing him I doubted him. I said I had to trust him, even when he's wrong. Noble sentiments, so idealistic. Bodu saw through that guarshit straight away. What use is any of it, if he's dead? In the afternoon, they climbed above the ashline. Crossed into the high places, where the storms whipped constant torrents of ash from the crater of the volcano. They had goggles from the Urshilaku with shalk-wing lenses and tight leather straps. Ire wrapped his blue silk scarf around his nose and mouth, followed by another less permeable one of soft, grey racerskin. Even Julan was forced to cover his face, though Ire could still hear him humming, whenever the wind dropped. They clambered over piles of scree, and verdant explosions of bittergreen. Sometimes, a gust of wind would catch Iriel unawares, and he'd have to cling to the nearest bristling tendril until Julan rescued him, grateful his netch gauntlets kept the spines out of his skin. Everything is so fragile, so precarious. Any moment, something could tear him from me. Every step we take, a crack could open up between us. Could swallow either of us... or both. We killed an ash vampire, but we almost died a dozen times and it's only going to get worse. Where's the line, Ire? He knows. He stood across it, that night you tried to attack the Council Club. You lecture him about boundaries, but where are yours, now? You always do this. You fuck things up one way, then you overcorrect too far in the other direction. You're not "having faith" in him, you're enabling him. And if you keep going, you're going to watch him die. But what else can I do? In the crags, they passed through a cliff racer nesting ground, empty now the chicks had all fledged. Iriel felt small bones crunch beneath his boots, and forced his gaze upwards, stomach turning. Julan was already bouncing over the top of the next ridge. I don't know how to help you. I've found plenty of ways not to do it. I don't want to mock you, deceive you, lecture you, patronise you, manipulate you, order you, guilt-trip you. I won't have you feel my love as a chain around your wrist, dragging you from your hopes and dreams into cultureless domesticity, like Shani tried to do. Is this all that's left, letting you pull me into the mouth of hell with you? I don't want to watch you die, but if the choice is this, or leaving you to die alone... I owe it to you. I owe it to you to be wrong about staying, instead of wrong about going. "Huh." Julan had stopped, and was scratching his head. The foyada had ended in a narrow clearing, rock faces on all sides. There was no sign of a cavern, or an opening of any sort. "I don't get it." He pushed up his goggles, the cliffs largely shielding them from the ash. "It must be here, but we've checked the entire length of the valley." "Can we rest?" Iriel's bag had slipped from his shoulders, and he looked ready to drop into the ash next to it. Julan nodded, and they settled themselves against the rock face at the foyada's dead end. Ire loosened his scarves, and shook out the ash, until it made him cough so much he stopped. Julan passed Ire the waterskin, and waited while he drank, watching with such intensity, it was all Ire could do not to choke. He settled for spilling it down his chin, and shooting Julan an exasperated glance. Julan returned him a smile of pure affection. "I know this has been hard on you," he told Iriel. "And I don't just mean the climbing, I mean everything. I know I've been hard on you, too, and difficult to live with. I want to apologise, and to say... you don't know how much it means to me, that you're here." Please let a crack in the rock open up, because I want to crawl into it. "I could do this." Ire heard Julan's voice, and dimly felt him cradling his hand, through his gauntlet and haze of impotent despair. "I could actually succeed at my mission! I never felt this way before, never in my whole life. It's amazing, and it's all because of you." Oh. Great. "I never imagined that anyone would do this for me, would share my burden like this. You're so strong, Iya, far more than me, and far more than you realise. I love you so much." Ire knew he couldn't respond without crying, and then having to explain why. And then falling apart completely, begging, drenching Julan in guilt, exchanging all his confidence and devotion for doubt and resentment again, and to achieve what? A temporary victory, at best. He gritted his teeth and looked away, into the rising blush of the sunset, at the lone star appearing over it. Vasa bel-Azura. Viatrix said love and faith were the same thing. That faith let her follow, when reason failed. But... she was talking about a god. What do gods ever have to lose? The mountain groaned, and, as if answer to his prayer, he felt the rock behind him shift. Iriel might have wondered how the liminal boundary operated, without a monk and a pulley, but at that moment, there was nothing in his mind but a sense of hollow inevitability. They walked down the passage hand in hand, a distant, submarine glow luring them into the depths. Julan was vibrating with anticipation, Iriel numbly docile. The cavern that opened around them was a temple. Luminous, numinous, stalactites and stalagmites ringing it like pillars. In the centre, surrounded by green and violet mushrooms that shone like altar candles, was a kneeling female figure, carved from the rock. Julan's eyes were fixed on the statue, his mouth slack. "Azurammu," Ire heard him breathe. Azura's stone eyes were cast down into her lap, where her hands were resting, upturned and open. Towed nearer, Ire saw lichen patterning her skin and moss softening the folds of her robe. Julan clutched convulsively at his arm. "Look!" Iriel followed his gaze. She had worshippers. Around the edges of the cavern, motionless figures were huddled at stiff angles, bent at the knees and neck. "They're bodies!" Julan let go of Iriel, and moved towards the nearest form. "This one's been given full death-honours... more than for a khan, even. Are they heroes, legendary champions? I've never seen soul-bindings this complex." He began going from corpse to corpse, squinting and gasping. Iriel hadn't moved, was still hovering at the centre of the cavern, paralysed by discomfort and dread. The statue loomed over him, all benign expression and benevolent hands. He hated it with every fibre of his being. There was something glinting between the statue's cupped hands. A silver band. He leaned closer. A silver band... with a moon and star on it. He almost shouted to Julan, but stopped himself. Something was bothering him about the ring, and a second later, he realised what. It wasn't enchanted. It was impressive to look at, the six-pointed star nestled into the elegant curve of the crescent moon, but it wasn't magical. Not imbued with any sort of spell, let alone a soul-scanning murdercurse. I could be wrong. Daedra can be subtle, after all, and my judgement isn't what it was. But... I can still sense the arcane, and there's simply nothing here. I can feel the amulets on the corpses across the cavern, but not this ring. Nibani Maesa said that to gain the proof of Nerevar, I had to find the moon and star. But if she knew the cavern was here... why is the ring still here? Why hadn't they already retrieved it, kept it safe? Unless... it's just another sinyesh, a test-thing to retrieve. Iriel stared again at the circle of metal in the statue's hands. How can it be a proof, if it's not magical? She must have known it wasn't magical. That anyone could wear it, and-- He saw a trap. He saw a glittering snare. A manacle, to drain freedom, and replace it with blind, dutiful obedience. "Mephala!" Julan's voice drifted from somewhere behind the statue. "There's even more bodies! And they must be really powerful spirits, the amount of bone charms holding them to this place is... incredible. Iya, I think this place is a tomb for failed Incarnates!" He saw a poisoned chalice. If I'm wrong, and it is cursed somehow, it will kill him instantly. If I'm right, and it isn't, it will cement his confidence, and lock him on his course. Make him the willing dupe of this reborn soul shell game, or whatever it is these wise women are playing at. Either way, it kills him. Quick or slow, it kills him. The stalagmites and stalactites were no longer the pillars of a temple. They were ranks of pointed teeth, ready to snap closed. "What have you found?" Julan was approaching from the back of the cave, and Iriel's pulse hammered against his throat. Too late now to hide it, lose it, pretend it had never existed. He suddenly heard Viatrix, again. 'Some things They did so we might not have to. So we might receive the lesson, without paying the cost.' Iriel picked up the ring. At the flash of silver, Julan's eyes went wide. When he saw what Ire was doing with it, they went wider still. "No," he said hoarsely, beginning to run, catching his shoulder on a stalactite, forcing past it. "STOP!!" This time, I chose it. I betrayed him with both eyes open. The Moon-and-Star slid past Ire's knuckle, and settled around the base of his left middle finger. And nothing happened. There. I was right. I know it'll hurt, to find it was all meaningless. That he'll be disappointed it's not the proof he wanted, that it's been nothing but a huge set-up. At best, he'll be furious with me for taking the risk. At worst, he'll despise me forever, for sabotaging his destiny, and he'll have the right. But at least he might live to do it. Ire began releasing the breath he'd been holding. Then he saw Julan's face, and it froze in his chest. Julan came towards him. Silently, slowly as if underwater, his eyes fixed on the ring on Iriel's hand. When he reached it, he stopped. Took Ire's hand in his, gently, reverently. He ran his fingers along Iriel's knuckle, then across the ring. Then down the length of Ire's finger, and off. Iriel couldn't speak, but when Julan looked up, their eyes met. There was no trace of anger in Julan's face. Only something of the condemned man, in the split second after the trapdoor opens, and before the noose pulls tight. He nodded slowly. He squeezed Iriel's fingers. Then he ran from the cave. "WAIT!!" Ire's self-possession returned, as Julan reached the cavern entrance. Stumbling down the tunnel after him, Ire saw the stone door begin to grind downwards. He launched himself towards the shrinking wedge of rose-gold light. "COME BACK YOU IDIOT IT'S NOT ENCH--!" The rock wall descended the last few feet just as Iriel hit it face-first. next: 187: mother previous: 185: courage beginning: 1: numb

Do You Have the Time? Episode 018: Old Wounds

Synopsis: Leslie and Leopold take a chill drive. Jeremy and Madison fail to use their inside voices.

--

[April 24th, 2018, 12:32]

           “What would you rather do, Leo? Both of us go to pick up a new motor, or one goes, and the other stays behind to keep working?” Leslie asked.

           “Hmm, that depends. Is Madison coming in today, do you think?”

           “Last I heard from Jeremy, Madison was still sleeping.”

           “Then we’ll go together. Just didn’t want her coming to the lab and getting hurt because nobody was here,” he said.

           They left most of their belongings in the lab with the intention of being back shortly. He led her out to his old sedan in one of the parking lot in front of the building. Leslie managed to break the silence once they were on their way to the store.

           “So, I know we’re under a bit of pressure right now with the deadlines,” Leslie started.

           Leopold chuckled wryly and nodded.

           “Yeah, you could say that again.”

           “But I think we’re really on to something this time, and that got me thinking… if we really do manage to get this machine working, what should we do with it?”

           “Hmm, well, I’ve been thinking about it, and thought maybe we’d do some tests to see if we come across any data that let us propose any laws of time travel,” he chuckled, while keeping his eyes on the road, “Now that would be big!”

           “But what about after that?” she asked, “What about when we’ve decided it’s safe and we understand how it works. Like, where would you go, Leo? Or should I say when would you go?” she giggled.

           He looked at her with a goofy grin before returning his eyes to the road.

           “Ahh, I see where you’re going. Or when you’re going,” he laughed.

           “Good one!”

           “But, yes, let’s see… it’s purely for fun, I would say Woodstock. I went when I was a boy and loved it. I wish I could go back! My friends and I partied way harder than we should have been allowed to at that age,” he chuckled, “Maybe I could buy another Woodstock pin. I got one when I was there, but I lost it at some point! After I made it home and we told everyone we went to Woodstock, nobody believed us!”

           Leslie laughed with sympathy for young Leopold.

           “Oh, no, that must have been awful!”

           “Ehh, it could’ve been worse! In a way, my pals and I didn’t care so much because we had such a ball with each other while we were there. And the trips to and from were full of misadventures, too,” he chuckled, “Oh, what a time it was to be alive. The only way it would have been better is if I’d known Marie at the time.”

           Leopold’s expression gradually sank from a care-free, nostalgic affect to a pensive appearance. He quietly sighed, drifting off while they waited for the light to turn green.

           “What was she like?” Leslie broke the silence.

           “What’s that?” he said.

           “I’ve always been curious, since I never got the chance to meet her,” she explained, “I wish I could have because you seem so happy when you talk about her! Would you tell me about her?”

           Leopold wore a new, bittersweet smile. Leslie smiled back. She took a risk asking about Marie, since the subject of his wife usually seemed to send him into a depressive spell. She felt that reminding him of times when they were together would help distract him from thinking about losing her.

           “I suppose I haven’t told you much about her other than how I lost her, huh?” he lightly mocked himself. He pulled his car into the Home Depot parking lot and slipped into the first space he saw.

           “In a word, she was so… positive,” he said, “So enthusiastic, and silly, and fiery. She never gave up on anything, not even me,” he chuckled, “No matter what the world threw at her, she overcame it somehow and just, never lost her momentum. And she was supportive. She was always there, no matter what. She dressed so sweetly. Flowers and pink and those little shoes,” he said.

           “Little… shoes?” Leslie asked.

           “Yeah, you know, the ones with no arch support at all, and you can see most of your foot still? They have no laces. Marie would find pairs for five dollars at all the thrift stores.”

           “You mean flats?” Leslie inquired.

           “Ah, yes! Flats, that’s it.”

           Leslie snorted.

           “She wore those and little frilly dresses. She was so cute,” he laughed, “Oh, but she was loud and competitive.”

           “She almost sounds scary,” Leslie snickered.

           “Oh, she was if you were on the wrong side, believe me. But she would have loved you because you’re an important part of my life,” he rambled.

           Leslie smiled with a soft look in her eyes.

           “I am?” she asked.

           Leopold glanced at her distractedly.

           “Well, of course you are, you goof! You should know that by now!” he said, “With everything we’ve been through together? Putting you through college, getting a few papers published, our presentation applications being rejected, we’ve seen it all together.”

           Leopold got out of his car and motioned her to follow him.

           “Let’s go get this motor and head back. You can tell me what you would do with time travel on the way back.”

           Leslie hopped out of the car.

           “Okay!”

[April 24th, 2018, 14:38]

           Jeremy quietly rested at his desk in the classroom while the remaining students finished their assignments. They’d finished their hands-on lab portion and had moved on to their workbooks. At least those who brought their workbooks were. One by one, students tore out their assignments from their books and handed them in to Jeremy. He directed them to the sign-out sheet, and they filed out seamlessly. Students always left class much faster than they arrived. The only one left was Madison. She sauntered up to his desk with her assignment.

           “Aaaaand here you are,” she said, plopping her stack of papers down in front of him. He briefly leafed through it and glanced back at her.

           “Great, I’ll get this to Randall, as soon as possible.”

           “Cool, cool.”

           He began shuffling the papers together into his folders so that they could slide into his backpack. Madison stood there watching him, though he wasn’t meeting her gaze. He looked as though he was trying to avoid interacting with her any more than he needed to.

           “So… are we not going to talk about how you’ve obviously been not talking to me for, like, a week?”

           He paused, then spoke with his eyes glued to his desk.

           “Would that not defeat the purpose of not talking?”

           “So, you admit that you’re not talking to me, then,” Madison pressed.

           Jeremy continued to pack up his bag without responding. She remained tense and quiet, processing his response. Madison boiled over with agitation and groaned.

           “I don’t understand what horrible thing I must have done to you to make you hate being around me so much that I can literally see you avoiding me every time I’m around,” she threw her arms up in the air with frustration, “I mean, what is it, Jeremy? What did I do? Why can’t we just be like we used to be?”

           She could see the resentment on Jeremy’s face as he hoisted his backpack up over his shoulders.

           “I’ve got somewhere to be,” he said and swiftly moved past her.

           “No,” she barked and grabbed his wrist, “I’m tired of this ‘no-talking’ shit. I want to know what’s going on! Tell me what I did to deserve this, huh?”

           Jeremy intensely stared at her with a stone face, then dropped his bag on the floor.

           “You haven’t done one thing to deserve this, Madison, it’s not that simple. If it were, I think you’d know what the problem is. What you’ve been doing is slowly wearing me down for years. I am constantly paying for your mistakes while you get to skate free of any of the consequences. I’m sick and tired of it. I don’t want to do it anymore. That’s why I don’t want to be around you. Are you happy with that?” he snapped.

           “No, I’m not happy, that’s totally unfair!”

           “Yeah, well, welcome to real life, Madison. I’ve been living here for a while.”

           “Oh, yeah, cool, edgy come-back, dude. Name one thing that I’ve done that you had to pay the price for!”

           “You really don’t want to play that game with me, Madison,” he said and turned around to get his backpack.

           She grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around again.

           “No, I do, please, go for it,” she egged him on.

           “Okay. I could name countless times, but how about today, for instance,” he spat.

           “What?! How?”

           “Just being here, Madison! I talked to Randall before you got here. He told me if you didn’t do well on the last two assignments today, you’d fail the class.”

           “So what? I turned them in, and now we just have to see what grade I get! You’re not even the one grading my assignments, he is!”

           “The only reason you got to turn them in at all, Madison, is because I broke the rules for you. You aren’t allowed to turn in assignments after the beginning of class. You missed your class entirely on an unexcused absence, so you shouldn’t have been able to turn in the first assignment at all, but I let you do it anyway. You shouldn’t have been able to attend my class because it was at full capacity, and I’m not allowed to accept anyone else, but I did it for you anyway. I am constantly working around you. From making up for the resources you waste in Leopold’s lab to having to repeat everything that I say because you can’t control your impulse to interrupt me. The only reason you even have a shot at passing this class is because I broke the rules for you, and if my boss finds out, I’ll be the one paying the price. And that’s because you refuse to take responsibility for your actions,” he snarled.

           “Well, I didn’t know you weren’t allowed to do those things, otherwise I wouldn’t have put you in that position!” she defended.

           “Except you should have known, because it’s in the syllabus, Madison. The syllabus is two pages long and you were supposed to read it on day one. But you didn’t because, again, you don’t take responsibility for your actions.”

           “Christ, Jeremy, you’re really mad at me for not being some kind of physics-genius-star-student like you? It’s an intro class, I’m not used to college yet, I made some mistakes. Everybody makes mistakes!”

           “It is an intro class. Intro classes are easy; they don’t ask for much!” he snapped, “Why are you even close to failing this class anyway? Your older brother is doing research in theoretical physics and teaches the lab material that you’re learning. I more than understand basic physics, why haven’t you asked me for help?”

           “Maybe because I know you’re too smart to be able to explain it to me, and you’d spend the whole time judging me because I don’t get it? I’m not like you, Jeremy, I don’t just get things. I don’t just learn it and master it, I’m not mom’s little prodigy like you were. You were the smart one, and I was just the kid she didn’t want. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but honestly, you’re a little late to that party,” she said with a cracking voice and watering eyes.

           Jeremy balled his fists.

           “Do you think I wanted to be ‘mom’s little prodigy’?” he snapped back, “I didn’t have a choice, Madison. I was powerless. You were too young to do anything, and dad was too scared of mom. He just pretended everything was fine and distracted himself with you. He gave you all of the formative experiences that I didn’t get. I didn’t get friends, I didn’t even get you anymore, because you made other friends and I didn’t get any free time at all. Did you just forget all of that? It was all studying and tests; anything remotely fun had to be educational. Every minute of my day was planned out and decided before I even woke up. Study, practice piano, study again, take a test, work through online modules, mock interviews for future jobs. And it was all at home. There was nowhere to go and nothing to look forward to.”

          Jeremy’s voice began to break, but he continued.

         “And now my knowledge is the only thing I have left. Maybe you don’t understand things like I do, but people don’t like me like they like you. They see me and think ‘smart, nerdy, freak who’s only friend is a robot’. They see you and think ‘chill, quirky girl who’s super interesting and fun to be around’. I mean, Leopold is way more interested in having you around, and you don’t even work there. People just flock to you and love you instantly; I can’t do that; I don’t know how.”

           There was a knock on the door to the classroom. Jeremy and Madison spun around in surprise and quickly made themselves presentable. He opened the door to find a confused student outside.

           “Hi, uh, is the PHS 103 lab cancelled today? I have class at three o’clock.”

           Jeremy cleared his throat.

           “No, it’s not cancelled, the last class was running a little late,” he staggered, “Your TA should be on their way right now, just come on in and take a seat.”

           Madison had retrieved her backpack and followed closely behind Jeremy.

           “Sorry for the wait!” she said to the few students who shuffled in.

           The siblings were left alone in awkward silence outside the classroom. Before Madison could revive their discussion, Jeremy turned around and started walking away.

           “I don’t have time for this, I have somewhere to be,” he croaked with watery eyes.

           Madison scoffed and jerked herself in the other direction.