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fleckcmscott · 4 years

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Watch What Happens - Chapter 24

Chapter links: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23

Summary: Arthur, an aspiring comedian, has struggled to find normalcy and compassion his entire life. Y/N, a hard-working paralegal and transplant to Gotham, has just been put on a case for the Wayne Foundation. When they meet, unexpected sparks fly.

Chapter warning: Angst, Swearing

Words: 4,020

A/N: Special thanks, as always, to Karen, @ithinkimawriter, for beta-reading this chapter and helping me work through some of my uncertainties!

Send me your WWH requests!

About two months after Penny moved to Endsbury Place, a nursing home in mid-town Gotham, Arthur's bank account was nearly in the negative. With Penny's disability paying for her long-term care, and his only income coming from the occasional shift at Amusement Mile or random gig Gary forwarded his way, it became clear to him that he wasn't going to be able to afford his rent. The situation wasn't a surprise, but it frustrated him all the same. He'd done the best he could to stretch his dollar. Dates were at home unless Y/N insisted on treating, which he disliked. He was skipping meals, even though he denied it when she'd asked.

And he'd only filled one of the three new prescriptions Dr. Ludlow, the psychiatrist Y/N had hooked him up with, had given him. They were prohibitively expensive - he'd been shocked when he was told the price for all of them. It was cheaper to keep up with his journal, work on his material, and try to use the new cognitive behavioral techniques he'd been learning at their sessions. He'd ended up picking the medication for insomnia, hoping his mind would be more coherent if he could at least get some rest.

Y/N thought the solution to all this was obvious. She'd been hinting that she wanted him to move in with her, but he had reservations. They saw each other nearly everyday and often spent the night together. Even so, it was hard for him to believe someone would want to be around him constantly. One night over takeout, sitting together on his living room floor, she tried her best to convince him. "You already have a toothbrush and deodorant at my place. I have tampons here. We might as well save on rent. And you'll stop getting those stupid letters from Renew Corp."

She was being kind, he thought, not bringing up how poor he was. But he wanted to live with her because he loved her, not because he was broke. It was with reluctance that he accepted a copy of her key. He frowned down at it for a little while before saying, half-to himself, "You already pay for too much. I don't want to be a burden."

He quirked a dark eyebrow at Y/N when a greasy napkin hit his face, already knowing what was coming. "Stop it," she said, then leaned closer to him. "You're my partner, not a burden. Besides, you're in my bed half the time anyways." He blushed at that, but she didn't stop there. "Be glad love bit you when it did. And you didn't get hives." When she pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, he shook his head. She always went for a sarcastic remark when she thought he was being too morose. Sometimes it annoyed him because it wasn't what he needed. More often than not, it brightened him enough to walk another step with her.

On moving day, while boxing up his belongings, he came to the realization that nearly everything in the apartment belonged to his mother. There wasn't a lot he could do with her stuff; there was limited space in her room, and he'd already sent over what he thought she needed. He decided to leave what he didn't want - the landlord, Renew Corp., the Waynes or whoever could deal with it.

The unexpected pang in his chest while packing made him nervous. The change that was coming was a rare positive; it had to be. But he was still leaving home. When his anxiety started clouding his thinking, around noon, he tried to call Y/N at work but didn't reach her. He phoned her apartment, then. What he heard when the machine picked up caught his breath. "Hi, you've reached Arthur and Y/N. We're not able to come to the phone, but if you leave your name and number and a brief message, we'll get back to you as soon as we can. Thanks!"

He hung up and called back to listen to the greeting again. Even after doing that, it took him a few seconds to speak, trying to keep his voice from trembling. "Uh... Hi. It's Arthur. You updated your message." He sniffled, then laughed lightly. "I'm almost done here. Come over whenever." He paused and braced himself against the kitchen entrance, resting his forehead on it as he sighed. "I love you. A lot"

Y/N came by with a dolly that evening, stating she'd borrowed it from the supply closet at her office. The four medium boxes, VCR, cookbooks, and LPs stacked on it easily, and it wouldn't take up much room on the train. He left a couple of paper bags and his prop bag for her to carry. After giving the apartment a quick once-over to ensure he hadn't forgotten anything, he placed his key on the counter. Then he opened the door and stepped out, rolling his belongings behind him. He stared at the doorknob and worried his bottom lip. Save for his stints in Arkham over the past ten years, he'd lived in 8J all his life. It would be strange to leave it forever.

Her light touch on his arm brought him out of his reverie. "You all right?" she asked, giving a comforting squeeze. "Are you ready?"

His reply came slowly. "Yeah?" Seeking reassurance, he looked at her. There was no doubt in her eyes, only affection and kindness. The same as when she'd saved his ass on the subway and his life had changed forever. Smoothing his palm over his hair, he nodded and shut the door. "Yes. I am."

~~~~~

Those early days after moving in felt as if Arthur was on his first vacation. He'd spent a lot of time in Y/N’s apartment, but he'd never stayed over more than one night in a row. The sensation faded quickly, though. Y/N kept correcting him whenever he referred to her building, her bedroom, or her refrigerator, insisting everything was theirs now. When they were in the kitchen together, she'd ask him to get needed items from the cabinets, in an attempt to get him used to treating the place as his own. And she made sure their possessions were intermingled, telling him she wanted him to feel at home.

"I know," he said softly as they sat on the couch, having put away the last of his records. "It's just... I think it'll take awhile."

She pulled him to lay with his head on her lap. The gentle glide of her touch over his jaw, then the side of his neck relaxed him. "That's normal," she said, massaging his shoulder. At the use of that word, he closed his eyes and nuzzled at her thigh. "If you need anything, tell me."

He allowed himself to enjoy her for awhile before asking, "What do you get when you cross a mentally ill loner with a paralegal from Missouri?"

"Uh, limited culpability?"

He chuckled and squeezed her knee. "A really abnormal couple."

She laughed, sliding her palm to his sternum. "I prefer to call us novel.” Whatever they were, he cherished it. He took her hand as she leaned to press her lips to his cheek, more at ease than he had in weeks.

But living with Y/N wasn't the panacea he had naively imagined. He hated to admit it - he loved being with her - but Arthur found it difficult to build a life with someone who wasn't oblivious to him. When he had lived with Penny, he had developed his own rhythms, routines, and, he knew, odd habits. He often talked to and danced with himself. And he could smoke the entire time, wherever he wanted. With Y/N, some of that went out the window. Smoking on the fire escape had been expected, but it was forcing him to cut down, since he didn't want to stand outside the whole day. And the talking and the dancing didn't seem to bother her. In fact, she claimed to like it.

Though, he thought, maybe she liked it a little too much. Some days after the move, when he was shaving after a shower, he put the radio on. He swiveled his hips with the music, holding his electric razor, singing along quietly. He didn't detect her sneaking in. When the towel disappeared from his waist, he grabbed the edge of the sink and froze. He opened his eyes to find her behind him in the mirror. “If you're going to dance like that," she said. "You better get in the habit of locking the door."

But then she appeared to notice his discomfort. Holding the blue terrycloth back around him, she apologized for startling him. And berated herself for not knowing he wouldn’t react well. Once his nerves were quieted, he patted her hand. “I’m okay,” he rasped. But he could see the regret in her eyes when he turned to her. Putting his arm around her back, he willed his voice to be soft. “Knock next time you want to jump me.” The peck he planted on her cheek made her giggle and lean into him.

Another change was having to decide on meals together. Back on Anderson Avenue, he could eat when he preferred, if he preferred to. Y/N insisted on grocery lists, whereas he'd always bought whatever was on sale or in the clearance bin that week. And she often asked for them to cook together; he loved that and it made his heart swell each time. But she wanted them to try preparing dishes with ingredients such as bay leaves or cooking sherry, items he hadn’t heard of or stayed away from because he hadn't had the money to experiment or buy more than the basics. The prices made him cringe and wonder how few dollars he would have left after shopping.

And it wasn't only food that prompted that reaction. He didn't know if he could ever get over worrying about money, even though she'd shown him her account and said they had enough. If he'd ever wanted to do anything special before, he'd had to plan days or weeks in advance in order to afford it. Habits borne of poverty died hard. And Y/N was getting mildly frustrated with him for second-guessing their finances whenever she suggested they do something special.

One weekend early on, she told him they should go to the disco. She wasn't a big fan of them, she said, but she'd wanted to go with him after he'd bragged about his dancing skills on their first date. And, she reminded him, he'd admitted he used to fantasize about going to one. Before he could finish his question about the cost, she stopped him and told him it didn't matter. He tried to believe her. But when he heard the price of the cover charges, he gently asked if they could go.

It was apparent from the redness of her cheeks and serious face that she was irritated. Grasping his wrist, she led him under the velvet rope, to a secluded area about twenty feet from the entrance. "Arthur." She took a deep breath. "I need you to believe I can calculate the price of covers, drinks, and food." He looked at the ground, unmoving. When her hand cupped his cheek, his eyes fluttered shut. "I know you're used to constant struggle," she continued in a softer tone. "But you don't have to be now."

"I'm- I'm sorry," he said meekly, shaking his head.

"Don't be sorry." She smiled and kissed him, bumping her nose to his. "Just have a good time."

The evening had been interesting. The style of dancing hadn't been what he was used to, given that it was modern music and not the older tunes he favored. It was loud, too - he didn't want to have to raise his voice for her to hear him. They spent most of the time at their table, sipping on cocktails. When slower songs played, however, he was always able to entice her into a slow dance, even though she stepped on his feet. While they walked to the nearest subway station, she asked him how he'd liked it. "I wouldn't go back," he answered, then turned and gazed down at her. "But you made it nice."

Most of their concerns were easily resolved with a little time, a conversation or two, and compromise from both sides. Unexpectedly, that pattern continued when Y/N asked, a couple months later, if he would mind her dropping the occasional letter to Penny. She made it clear she wasn't expecting him to keep in contact. But she wanted Penny to know how well he was doing, that they were living together now, and how overjoyed she was to be with him.

He didn't respond at first. But some minutes later he said, "I gave the nursing home the new address." After finishing washing dishes and drying off, he spoke lowly. "She didn't give a damn before. She's not going to care now." Then he locked himself in their bedroom with his journal, brooding over what to do. And he continued to mull it over that night, listening to Y/N's slow breathing while sleep eluded him.

As they drank coffee in silence the next morning, her question still hung between them. She was watching his every move, and he knew she'd soon prod him for an answer. "Fine. Let her know I'm fucking up less," he said, exhaling sharply as he picked up his cigarettes and headed outside. "And found someone who thinks I’m funny."

Even with her reassurances, what was harder on him was his inability to find steady work. He'd been the breadwinner in his household since he was a teenager. It had been difficult, but he'd been proud of the job he'd done. It pained him not to be able to provide for Y/N in the way he believed he should. She always told him that doing whatever he could, pursuing his stand-up, and helping her take care of the apartment was enough. That him being there was what she needed, and she was happy to have such a wonderful partner. Still, whenever he had an income, he'd give her something towards rent, the electric, or whatever. But she'd always try to give it back. Occasionally, he secretly paid a bill out of his checking account.

Gradually, as their lives blended together, he gave her more details about what he’d referred to on Murray. That he’d been in Arkham a number of times, because he’d been deemed a danger to himself. And he'd only been out about eight months when they'd started dating. That the treatment he’d been getting through the Department of Health had been court mandated. That he sometimes still struggled with hallucinations and disassociating. And that his main motivation for going to his current appointments and trying different medication was wanting a decent future with her, not necessarily being healthy.

He was smoking on the fire escape, sitting on a metal step, when he told her. "You think I should be reason enough." He scoffed, then flicked ash off his cigarette. "I've hated myself all my life, Y/N." Pressing his lips together, he looked out at the lights of the Gotham skyline and shook his head. "When I’m with you, it’s not so bad."

It took her awhile to react. But she eventually sat next to him. "There's so much love in you. I hope someday you can spare some of it for yourself." Then she hugged him, so tightly he could barely breathe. “You’re never getting rid of me, Mr. Fleck." At that, he leaned his head against the top of hers and closed his eyes, hoping to gain her confidence and belief in him by osmosis.

~~~~~

When Arthur did get gigs for stand-up, they were mostly non-paying, open-mic nights he'd signed up for. Once in awhile he'd get a spot in which he could get a small percentage of the night's cover charges. Y/N hated those, stating he was being treated as a novelty act. He was aware but he didn't care. He merely wanted to be seen and tell his jokes. If luck struck and he got a break, that'd be great. He worked on his comedy diligently, with the goal to write at least one new joke every day. His delivery slowly became easier. And though his laugh attacks never went away completely, they became less frequent with the more stage experience he got.

And Y/N was always there in the audience, supporting him even though comedy wasn't her thing. Afterward, she'd go over the show and give him pointers on what she thought might improve his material. He almost never took her advice. But he always listened; her speaking thoughtfully about it made him feel valued, like he mattered. Sometimes it pleased him so much, he’d interrupt to give her a quick kiss and hug her. She’d pat his back when that happened and say, “I’m going to have to be more critical if this is the reward I get.”

To Arthur's chagrin, one night Y/N told him she wouldn't be able to see him perform. Her excuse had been flimsy, but he’d accepted it. He'd gotten through everything all right, but he'd missed knowing her eyes were on him while he was in the spotlight.

When he got home, around ten, Y/N was sitting at the kitchen table, wearing only a robe and engrossed in a newspaper. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched her, wondering what had actually prevented her from coming to the show, until she turned around.

To his confusion, she sprung from her chair, saying, "Close your eyes. I have a surprise for you."

Smirking slightly, he did as she asked. She grabbed his hand and guided him along. He did his best to follow her, but bumped into the coffee table with his shin. Laughing, she slowed their pace, and they stopped a couple steps later. "Okay, you can open them."

Doing so, he saw they'd moved to the back corner of the living room. A well-worn writing desk was in front of him, against the wall, a small lamp on the corner. To the right of the desk, a folding room divider was extended, creating a private space. It took him aback. "What's this for?"

She nudged him in the side with her elbow. "It's for you, silly."

Bewildered, he looked down at her. She was already too generous with him, always giving him a new notebook, sweater she thought he’d like, or other small item when he could barely buy her a bouquet. "Why?"

Sitting on the desk and drawing him to her with her foot, she smiled. "Do you know what today is?"

The correct answer eluded him, despite the effort he put into finding it. Lifting his eyebrows, his tone apologetic, he said, "Thursday?"

Y/N gave him a soft kiss and squeezed his sides. "Six months ago we went out for pie." Her fingers started working the buttons of his vest. "This is why I couldn't come to your show."

Arthur winced. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. I wouldn’t have signed-up for tonight if-" Then he cocked his head, his voice low. "I thought anniversaries were yearly."

"They are. But I needed an excuse," she said. "I've seen you close your journal when I've walked in the room. It's been hard for you, not having any privacy." As she spoke, she untucked his shirt. "Now you have your own writing nook. And the desk drawers lock." Her fingers traveling along the v-line of his abdomen made concentrating on her words difficult. "You can hide your journals, or a ring-" his eyes momentarily widened at that, cheeks burning, "- or anything else."

Leaning into her, a lump formed in his throat. He ran a palm along the edge of the desk before taking a deep breath. "Thank you," he whispered, pulling her robe open, then settling his hands on her bare hips.

“But there’s one thing you need to do first,” she said as she slipped his pants and briefs down his thighs.

His gaze dropped to watch as she pressed him to her entrance. Groaning, he pushed against her. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he chuckled before devouring her mouth.

After she left for work the next day, he went to a pawn shop he’d dealt with before in Otisburg and put a small, simple ring on layaway, making three payments upfront. The receipts were hidden in his journal, between two pages he’d obsessively filled with the words “Y/N Fleck” before he’d moved in with her.

The private area she’d put together was the space he hadn’t realized he needed. He’d gotten in the habit of locking himself in the bathroom or bedroom to have privacy to write. But now, without the underlying fear that she’d see some of the darker notions he put down, he journaled more. Sometimes for a couple hours. Y/N left him alone when he did that, apart from the occasional peppering of kisses along his shoulders or ruffling of his hair when she’d bring him something to drink. (Which, he figured out, was her way of checking on him.)

When the negative thoughts became too heavy, or if he was disassociating and wasn’t sure if what he was seeing was real, he’d go there and sit. The feel of the wood beneath his hands, the heat of the lampshade, the framed photograph of the two of them together he kept on the right corner, grounded him and let him know he really was in a safe place. And that he was loved.

Most days, he knew where he was and who he was. And, for the first time he could remember, there were periods in which he felt content. Over the years, he’d dreamed of many things he’d assumed would fill the hole inside him. Meeting his father, being a famous stand-up, having a friend. While he still had those desires, he never would have thought settling down with a woman he didn’t have a lot in common with would be so fulfilling.

Tonight, while they were watching the news on the couch, he couldn’t stop looking at her. It had been five months since she’d dropped off her envelope at NCB studios. And he knew she pined for a report on it everyday, even after all this time. She always looked disappointed when nothing was mentioned. Instead, there was a story about the mayoral election. Thomas Wayne was leading in the polls.

Y/N groaned. “If that asshole wins...”

Arthur grabbed the remote and flicked off the television, then went to the record player and put on an LP. It was one of the “mood music” records he loved but she found corny. He knew it would cheer her up, though. He’d learned how to do that; she was a much easier case than he was. He held out a hand to her.

Gazing up at him, a sly smile came across her face as she took it. “What?”

“Come on,” he said, pulling at her gently. “Dance with me.”

She stood and winced. “I’ll never be good at this. You’re lucky you still have your toes.”

The arm that went around her waist held her tightly. “You’ve taught me a lot,” he said softly, a grin on his face as he dared to pat her bottom, prompting a chuckle from her. “It’s my turn to teach you.”

After a few moments, she put her head on his shoulder. Arthur stroked Y/N’s hair as he closed his eyes. Breathing in her scent, feeling the warmth of her body against him as they gently swayed, he became acutely aware that a positive vision he’d had for himself had actually happened. A soft hiccup escaped him.

“Are you all right?” she asked against his neck.

Nodding quickly, he swallowed, continuing to lead. “Yeah,” he said, squeezing her hand. “I feel good.”

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @clowndaddyfleck @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies@invisiblewispofwhimsey @let-the-stars-fall-in-the-abyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x ofc #arthur fleck x female reader #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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dat-fandom-losertown · 5 years

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The Drift Between Us

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Chapter 1: The First Day

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Hank Anderson x Connor and Gavin Reed x RK900 (Ritch)

Genre: Fluff, Action, A bit of Angst, Pacific Rim!AU

Warnings: Referenced death, Swearing (do I need to put this as a warning? Probably not ‘cause it’s Hank we’re talkin’ about, but Ima do it anyway for this chapter lol)

Word Count: 9,563

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Synopsis:

Ever since Connor was young, all he’s ever wanted was to become a real jaeger Pilot and take down kaijus with his twin brother, Ritch. After several long years of training with their stepmother, Amanda, that dream finally becomes reality. Well, almost. Things are made difficult after the identical twins admit that they refuse to pilot together. Their choices are find other people to partner up with, find a way to work together, or quit before they become official jaeger pilots.

There’s no way they’re working together, and they aren’t going to throw their entire life away, so it’s option one, then.

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AN: Hello to anyone reading this! A few weeks ago @connorssock (this person is really cool and nice btw, would recommend) came up with a really cool Pacific Rim!AU and I just had to write it!! I got their permission to and now here we are! I plan for this to be a long, slow burn fic, and 8,000 words is the average amount of words I usually have for chapters. I’ve written fanfictions before, just not on this blog or for this fandom before! Whelp, I hope you enjoy the first chapter of The Drift Between Us!! <3

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Masterlist <~> Next

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The first attack happened long before Connor and Ritch were old enough to actually remember anything, but they know that that first kaiju is the reason their parents aren’t around anymore.

They weren’t the only ones to lose parents and families, obviously, but they took their loss much better than a lot of the other kids in their orphanage. The fact that everything happened so fast and they were just so young helped make it less traumatizing. If the twins hadn’t overheard their caregiver– as she told the young kids to call her instead of “mom”– telling someone what happened to their family, then they would have assumed they were abandoned or simply never had parents to begin with.

Whenever the twins told anyone this, they would always get sad, pitying looks that were usually followed by “I’m sorry” or something of the like. Connor and Ritch agreed that they hate being pitied for something they don’t remember and had no control over, which is one reason why they stopped talking to the other kids altogether. Either they got pitied, or the other people expected to get pity from them when they “had it harder”, which didn’t make sense to the twins, even at the young age of seven.

Pity can’t change or fix anything, and everyone at the orphanage obviously no longer has legal guardians anymore for one reason or another. Pain is pain; it shouldn’t be compared or ranked between people. This is one of the other reasons Connor and Ritch stayed away from others. They already had enough on their plate to deal with, they didn’t want to have to worry about other people’s problems and vice versa.

However, their antisocial behavior ended when a woman by the name of Amanda Stern interviewed them for adoption one day.

She asked questions like how they acted towards and around each other and others, what their favorite subjects were, and simple, normal questions like that. She didn’t once mention the parents they don’t remember, which, in hindsight, was normal for her, but at the time it was extremely refreshing, just like her lack of pity was too. Then she asked what they thought of jaeger pilots.

Connor loved them, adored them, aspired to be like the new pilots Hank Anderson and Jeffrey Fowler one day. He had always wanted to be the hero that saved the day so desperately. Connor couldn’t have worded it properly at the time, but he wanted the praise of doing something good and the satisfaction of knowing he saved someone’s family, someone’s home. He even regularly pretended to be a jaeger pilot, ending the imaginary kaijus one by one and stopping the invasions altogether.

Ritch had a slightly different reaction, but a similar answer. He admired jaeger pilots and found them to be very brave, but he wasn’t obsessed with them like Connor was. He didn’t really want to be a jaeger pilot, but Ritch liked the idea of helping and saving people enough that, if it was necessary to make Connor’s dream come true, he’d train and fight alongside him.

Then Amanda asked if they were serious about becoming jaeger pilots. She said she could make that happen easily, but it would take work and dedication. It would take years and years of training, but if they did well and listened to her, they could be real jaeger pilots when they grew up. All they had to do was go with her, and she would do it.

As if Connor could ever turn that down, which meant that Ritch agreed to go along with it too, albeit less enthusiastically.

She officially became their stepmother soon enough after that day and brought them to her nice, large house away from any coastline, and any immediate threat of the kaijus along with it. The twins started their training the next week after their arrival, only given enough time to get on a proper “early to rise, early to rest” schedule and get used to how Amanda ran the house.

They trained alongside each other nearly everyday for years. After they mastered the “basics”, Amanda began pairing the brothers against each other in roughly evenly-matched battles of wit and brawn, even though the brothers weren’t inclined to do so. Yet they had to. They had to because the longer they trained, the more Connor’s dream of being a jaeger pilot was slowly becoming Ritch’s dream as well, and they had nothing else to work towards in life by that point, so they put up with her games.

It was during one of these matches that Amanda forced them into that something between them finally cracked. It was just a splinter in comparison to the big picture, but it was enough to start the collapse of everything. Amanda’s continuous meddling and manipulation didn’t help either, it made everything worse, in fact, but they had to fight through it. They had nothing else beyond becoming jaeger pilots, and Amanda was reminding them of that fact almost daily by that point. They couldn’t give up, and even if they were allowed to, their pride wouldn’t let them.

Then it happened.

Connor and Ritch don’t talk about it, even the mention of it is enough to make them recoil. It had ruined nearly everything for the brothers. Yet, not wanting to be thrown out like trash or abandoned like stray dogs, they continued to painfully push through Amanda’s games of both physical and mental kinds. They just had to make it another few months and they’d be well on their way to become official jaeger pilots. It was the only thing they could ever be useful for.

In the end, Amanda kept her first promise (one of the very few that remained unbroken). They listened to her every order and every suggestion for years. They put everything they had and more on the line for this, just like she said they’d have to back in the orphanage, and now here they are. They survived, and they finally did it. The only problem is they don’t know what to do now that they’re actually here. For so long this day seemed like it would only arrive in dreams or fairy tales, and that might still be the case; they weren’t able to somehow change the forms Amanda filled out for them to be pilots together, and lying on those forms is a legal offense.

Finally getting loaded onto the large helicopter with fifteen other young adults, ones that still have that spark of life and innocence in their eyes. Connor and Ritch silently glance at each other. All it takes is one, tiny nod for them to agree that they’ll figure out some kind of plan when they get there. For now, though, they get buckled in for the trip to the Pan Pacific Defense Corps base.

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Almost all of the other cadets in the large helicopter have been complaining about their backs and necks aching for a long while now, and Connor is very close to telling them off for being children for constantly complaining about something as insignificant as that. However, when he turns his head to ask them to shut up, he just barely manages to catch sight of the edge of a huge, fort-like structure through the tiny window by his head. Reassured that their immature and meaningless complaints will very soon come to an end, Connor shuts his mouth and faces forward once more.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Ritch staring at him with an eyebrow raised, a silent question of what made him change his mind (because of course Ritch knows he was about to make a comment to these people). Connor offers an answer in the form of nodding towards the tiny, reinforced window between him and Ritch. Ritch silently looks out, leans back a bit in attempts to see what Connor had, then smirks. He, too, straightens and relaxes in his chair, his slight smile never quite leaving his face.

Connor assumes that Ritch is just as excited as he is to sleep in a real bed tonight, or as real as a cheap mattress or cot will be, anyway. It’s been nearly a week of traveling and layovers and such, and they haven’t slept somewhere that wasn’t an uncomfortable chair or the tiled ground in as long, too. The other cadets grumbled about them not getting any real beds while the staff had some the entire time, as well, which is why Connor was almost at his wit’s end just a few seconds ago. If he’s being honest, he still is.

Their commander finally announces that they’re preparing to land at the PPDC, and to gather what little was allowed to remain unpacked for entertainment. The renewed chattering of the others annoys the twins, who are used to the constant silence of their old home, but it irritates Connor especially. He has always been more introverted and socially awkward than Ritch– much to Amanda’s displeasure– and there has already been a week of non-stop people and talking so far. Connor’s ready to spend some time alone in peace.

He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to find a partner if he and Ritch are somehow allowed to stay as separate pilots, not if they’re all going to continue being this obnoxious, and especially not if Connor remains just as socially inept. Ritch must see something portrayed on his face because he leans over as much as he can with his harness being the way and speaks up for only the second time during this several-hour flight.

“They’re still young, let them be children a little longer. I’m sure we would have liked a little more time as well.” Ritch says, ever the patient one.

Connor sighs defeatedly. “I know we would’ve, but we were kids when we started and they’re grown adults. Besides, they’ve been talking constantly since we met at the airport earlier this week. Shouldn’t they have run out of topics to discuss?” Ritch takes a breath to say something, but Connor dismisses him with a wave, “Yeah yeah, I know. People talk about any and everything when they get along and they’re excited. And that’s okay, I’ve just been wanting some peace and quiet, and they only got louder.”

Ritch nods sympathetically. “Yeah. We’re almost out of here though.” Connor nods back. Ritch hesitates twice before continuing, “Are you excited? This is your childhood dream coming true right now and you seem bored.”

“This is only the boot camp. We could still get kicked out.”

“Do you honestly believe that could happen?” Ritch asks almost sarcastically with a raised eyebrow.

“Maybe, we still have our issue to deal with,” he looks pointedly at Ritch, who instantly knows what he’s talking about, ”but you never know. And to answer your question, I don’t think it’s hit me yet that I’m actually here. Ask me again in a day or two. Maybe in a week.”

Ritch huffs a laugh, an actual, genuinely amused huff, “Yes. I feel the same way.”

That was probably one of the most normal and pleasant conversations they’ve had in at least over a year. It was almost refreshing, if not awkward. Luckily, Connor is saved from over-analyzing their conversation by the helicopter finally landing. The doors open and all of the young adults hastily unbuckle, grab their duffle bags of clothes and supplies, then step out onto the landing pad. It’s a nice, clear day, and all of the trainees group together by the helicopter to listen to what this woman with braided blonde hair– obviously their guide for now– has to say. Well, more like has to yell over the surrounding machinery and wind.

“Welcome to the Pacific Ocean Defense base! My name is Chloe and I’ll be giving you a brief tour of the place so you know how to get around without being run over or squashed! Got it?” The group nods in unison, a few saying “Yes, ma’am.” She smiles, “Good! Follow close behind me! Don’t want you getting lost on your first day, do we?” She sharply turns around and starts walking, not looking back or waiting for the group to follow.

Connor and Ritch glance at each other quickly before following close behind Chloe, the rest of the group close behind them. As they walk up to the large, metal doors, they expect to see some kind of common area place behind them, but they instead open to reveal a large, heavy-duty elevator. The elevator is plenty large enough to fit the lot of them plus three, huge, glass containers and another person, who is fussing over the containers of… are those kaiju parts?

“Excuse me, sir,” Connor tries grabbing the man’s attention, too intrigued to keep his mouth shut like he knows he should.

The pale man shoots up from what he was doing and looks at the crowd, obviously trying to figure out who called him. Connor asks his question, confident that he’ll get at least a simple “yes or no” in return now.

“I hope you’re not bothered by me asking, but are those pieces of kaiju?” Connor tilts his head curiously, knowing he doesn’t portray emotions well when he’s tired but wanting to show the man he is genuinely interested in his answer.

The man’s eyes brighten up immediately, “Yes, yes they are.” He takes off his gloves and fixes the small bun on the back of his head before reaching out a hand to Connor politely. “I’m Elijah Kamski, the head scientist of the kaiju research department.”

Connor takes his hand firmly and shakes it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Kamski.” Connor hears someone scoff from the other side of the otherwise near silent elevator, followed by a sharp “shh!”.

The scientist releases from the handshake and drops his hand. “Please, Mr. Kamski will do, if you must. I don’t actually have a Doctorate’s degree, I’m just someone who’s interested in kaijus and happened to get lucky.”

“It was hardly luck, Elijah.” Chloe jumps in.

“Ah, well, thank you Chloe. It makes me happy you think that.”

“Are these parts still functioning? Or just being preserved?” Connor brings the attention back to where it was originally, his curiosity far from quenched.

Mr. Kamski sighs heavily and turns to the glass containers, “Just preserved, I’m afraid. We weren’t able to get to this kaiju in time to save any of its parts. But we do have some... somewhat functioning specimens down in the lab.”

Someone in the group, a man with darker skin and a shaved head, speaks up next.

“Why would we want to keep chunks of kaiju alive? Wouldn’t it be better that they stay dead for good?”

The blond, fair-skinned man standing next to him answers, “I imagine if they can keep pieces functional long enough to figure out any more weaknesses, it could make our jobs in the future easier, Markus. It’s smart, really.”

Mr. Kamski practically glows, “You’re absolutely right– uh, what’s your name?” He reaches his hand out to the blonde.

“Simon, sir.” He shakes Mr. Kamski’s hand once before letting go.

“Simon.” He turns to Connor, “And I never got yours?”

“Connor.”

“These are the new possible recruits for the new jaegers that are being built.” Chloe informs.

“That explains why I haven’t seen you guys around.”

The scientist chuckles in a way that makes it seem like he was trying to make it sound awkward, rather than it being a genuinely awkward laugh. Although, that may be just Connor over analyzing things again. He can’t really help it, old habits die hard, especially when they were critical to his comfort of life for so long.

However, Connor definitely isn’t the only one to notice how the elevator is starting to slow down to their floor. Mr. Kamski puts his gloves back on and stands up straighter again from where he was leaning on the handles to the cart holding one of the large, fluid-filled, canister-type thing. Connor isn’t exactly sure what the containers are called, or what they’re actually made of. Mr. Kamski interrupts his thoughts.

“Well, normally newcomers aren’t allowed in the lab, but if one of you guys happen to run into me and we’ve both got the time and interest to look at some kaiju organs and muscles, I wouldn’t have a problem showing you around.” His eyes suddenly have a curious, almost pompous glint to them, and his smile shifts minutely with them (though, Connor doubts anyone else notices this besides maybe Ritch. Stupid habits). “It’s always... nice, to find others who are interested in the kind of work I do,” he tilts his head ever-so-slightly, “So don’t be afraid to stop by.”

“I’ll definitely consider it, Mr. Kamski. Thank you.” Connor, ever the people pleaser, tells the man as the elevator doors open.

Most of the group politely waves goodbye to Mr. Kamski as they collectively step into the reinforced hall. They’re wide enough to comfortably fit vehicles through and the ceilings are high with pipes running up and down along them. Everywhere he looks is covered in sturdy metal, obviously reinforced and prepared in case a kaiju gets too close.

They round a corner, and Connor realizes that Chloe has been talking. Yet here he is, still not really listening because he’s internally freaking out and having a painfully silent fanboy moment. Someone wheeling a large cart passes by and Connor can’t stop himself from briefly studying the foreign materials on it with a sense of awe.

Connor has been waiting for this moment since he was a child. He’s looked up pictures that were leaked on the internet, he studied the backgrounds of the very few interviews held here at the base, he’s watched every documentary he could find on jaegers and their pilots. For a while, it was the only thing that kept him going, just the sheer strength and size of these machines that are so huge and powerful that one person alone can’t control it without risking mental overload and death. He thought he wouldn’t be as shocked as the others since he’s exposed himself to these battle machines as often as he could growing up, but it seems it’s very much the opposite in reality. He’s grown an appreciation for everything here that the others don’t have yet.

He still isn’t listening to Chloe as she explains what this area is and little facts about the jaegers that he probably already knows. He can already see Crimson Typhoon, piloted by Ms. Chen, her newer partner, and whoever else is available and compatible with them, normally the testy Mr. Reed– if he remembers that brief interview correctly– and it uses a triple arm technique. Apparently it was extremely difficult to get it working and safe enough for pilots to use. To his knowledge, there’s no other jaeger that uses more than two pilots anymore because of it. The next one over is Cherno Alpha. It’s the last mark one jaeger still standing, and is currently the oldest and heaviest jaeger this base has, but its pilots, Mr. Miller and Mr. Wilson, can still pick one hell of a fight in it.

The group starts turning to go down another hallway and Connor follows automatically, shamelessly looking at the the other jaegers down the enormous warehouse. He only recognizes one more of them, Striker Eureka, the only mark five jaeger in existence. All he knows is that it was decommissioned a day before its official release, but despite how much he searched for why it was shut down, he remains clueless to all else. They did a fantastic job keeping mark five quiet, so it makes sense that its shut down would be sealed up even tighter.

He can’t wait to see what new technology and designs the architects and construction teams have put together for the possible future pilots. Their teams should be getting mark six and seven jaegers, which seems almost surreal to Connor, that he’s actually here and they’re going to get new and improved jaegers. He wonders if the other jaegers he can see on the other end of the enormous room are the ones they’ll be able to use if they pass training. He sure hopes so; they look fantastic.

The group slows down and he realizes that he wasn’t listening to Chloe again when she calls his name. He cringes minutely, shameful that he still couldn’t force his mind away from the giant machines, then morphs his face into something he knows is almost unreadable and faces the blonde guide.

“Yes ma’am?”

“You’re really that interested in the jaegers?”

Connor looks away as he answers more timidly, “Yes ma’am. Have been since I was a kid.”

She pauses at that, putting in another code to another door.

“Then you’d be able to repeat the guidelines of this particular room? If you’re familiar with all of this already,” she gestures to the vast area around them.

As a matter of fact, Connor feels like he probably could.

“May I try?” She waves him on silently, almost sarcastically it seems. “Watch where you’re going at all times, because there are a lot of people and heavy equipment moving about. Don’t meander or wander idly because people have jobs to do and are trying to get places. Don’t bother the pilots unless absolutely necessary because that’s just common courtesy, same goes for workers of any kind. Clear out quickly if a jaeger is being moved to deploy. That’s all I can think of, ma’am.”

She nods thoughtfully, “If you were listening, you would have also known to just call me Chloe. Ma’am and Miss makes me feel old.”

Oh. She doesn’t seem entirely mad.

“Yes, M– er– Chloe”

She chuckles as she walks through the now open door, and others snicker along. It’s only his first day here and he’s already made a fool of himself. Training is not going to go at all like how he was expecting and hoping. Ritch must see how he deflated because he nudges Connor and leans over to whisper in his direction.

“I’ll be struggling to call her just Chloe for a while myself.” He straightens up. “Good to know I won’t be alone in this particular endeavor.”

Connor nods, too surprised that Ritch is talking to him again to verbalize anything.

The group follows Mi– Chloe, just Chloe, down some hallways and around some turns and bends. She talks about the specifics of what the different departments and areas of the base do and why they’re important, things that aren’t common knowledge for normal people, but have been drilled into Ritch’s and Connor’s heads over the past several years. She moves on to explain who’s in charge, the ranking system, and tips on remembering how to get to where they need to be and avoid where they aren’t allowed. It’s rather dull, but Connor easily pays attention now, giving only a small piece of his awareness to his surroundings.

Sneakily looking to his left, Connor sees that Ritch is much less twitchy than he is. It’s completely expected, seeing as Connor has always had a stronger need to know his surroundings well, and the fact that what’s happening now has been in Connor’s dreams for so long, while Ritch was just along for the ride for a large part of it. Yet, the fact that he shares a dream with the others here doesn’t help Connor feel sane or like a normal part of the group. He’s long since used to being the outcast by now, but he’s hoping that he will get along with some people, since everyone here has a great interest in being a jaeger pilot (what exactly are they doing here if they don’t?).

They take one last left turn and are met with what looks like a training room. Chloe has all fifteen of them line up in a neat row along the side wall, rather than muddled up against the back of the room. She then asks the people who did not come with a partner to take a step forward.

Connor moves only his eyes to glance at Ritch, and catches Ritch doing the same. Without any “telepathic communication”, as Amanda and any others who knew them called it, Ritch takes a confident step forward, and Connor quickly follows. It dully hurts Connor for some reason that Ritch didn’t even seem to think before taking a step, but it’s not like Connor was enthusiastic to try to work with him. It just feels like there’s really no chance in mending their damaged bonds now.

Connor can feel the confused gazes on his back, and he understands why. It’s obvious they came as a pair, if the fact they haven’t tried to socialize with the others as much as sticking to each other didn’t give it away already– even if it was just because they were both uncomfortable around strangers– then it’s their matching faces and builds. The only way to tell the difference between him and Ritch is their slight, unnatural height difference and the fact Connor prefers to wear grey and darker colors, since it’s harder to get messy and he believes it compliments his figure, while Ritch prefers white and lighter colors because he claims it looks better on him with his light eyes. It, admittedly, does look sophisticated on him in a way that Connor could never quite pull off with his dark eyes.

Connor is pulled out of his head once again (how many times am I going to zone out today?) by the sounds of footsteps entering the room. The Marshal Jeffrey Fowler himself is walking into the room with an assistant of some kind. She’s holding a clipboard and plenty of relatively thin files. Connor wouldn’t be surprised if those folders held every single thing known about everyone around him. He doesn’t exactly want to know what his says, since all of the information on him and Ritch in there would’ve been given by Amanda or taken through spying.

Marshal Fowler isn’t quite how Connor imagined him to be, which is to be expected for any type of celebrity really– if he ever counted as a celebrity at all, that is. While Connor remembers him being kind and open and definitely with less of a scowl on his face, Marshal Fowler seems to be sharp edges and angles and Connor can already tell that he won’t hesitate to put people in their places immediately, no matter how new they are or what age the person is. Connor isn’t exactly sure how he feels about this, but he’ll try his best to not step on his toes and avoid being a complete suck-up by accident, Both of those things happen more often than one would think.

The Marshal stops in front of the two rows of trainees and seems to scrutinize each person and pair. He suddenly clears his throat loudly, as if gathering attention back to himself even though no one was distracted in the first place. Connor doesn’t know why anyone would become distracted right now in the first place, but some people are just plain old idiots.

“Alright. Let’s get this done and over with. Miss Arlen?”

The assistant takes a step forward upon hearing her name. Her dark hair is tied back in a neat, short ponytail and her lovely dress compliments her dark skin and figure well. She looks like a respectable, well-put-together woman, someone Connor could probably trust to send a message to Marshal Fowler in the event of an emergency or something of the like.

“I’m going to call out your names so that if you prefer to go by a separate name, you can tell me now and I can write it down in your file for future reference,” she starts with a smooth voice, “Let’s start with the pairs then, shall we? Markus and Simon Manfred?”

The two guys who were talking to Mr. Kamski earlier in the elevator call out.

“Present!” “Here.”

“Lily and Maveric Hallowitt?” Those two are obviously siblings with how similar their blonde hair and blue eyes are.

“Here!” “Here.”

“Joshua Manfred and North Adams?”

“Present.” North says as the other informs Ms. Arlen that he prefers to be called Josh.

Ms. Arlen nods an “alright” and writes something down in one of the files quickly, then takes a breath to call out the next group. However, Marshal Fowler interrupts her from doing so with a inquisitive hum.

“We have a lot of Manfreds in this room. You all siblings?”

“Not quite, sir,” Josh answers respectfully.

Markus continues, “Josh is my brother, but Simon is my husband, sir.”

The marshal nods and makes a noise of interest at that. “How long have you two been together?”

Simon answers, “We’ve known each other since we were both children, but we married a few months ago.”

“Well, congratulations. Hope this is the kind of honeymoon you wanted.” His face becomes stone-like again. “Who’s our next group?”

“Connor and Ritchie Stern?”

“Present, but I’d like to be called ‘Ritch’ please,” Ms. Arlen nods and scribbles in his file, and Ritch continues, “And I mean no disrespect respect when I say this, but we do not want to pilot as a pair, despite what our stepmother had made us sign up for, sir and ma’am.”

Marshal Fowler properly glowers at them now. “Why did you let someone other than you make these decisions? Huh? ‘Cause I have a feeling you’re just in a little spat right now and are making rash decisions.”

“Sir, he’s telling the truth,” Connor pleads timidly, “We had no intention to work as a pair from the start, but we were… forcefully instructed to sign up as a pair by our guardian.”

“So you lied on the paperwork?”

This is going bad, we need to just give up and try again at a later date. A much later date.

“Not exactly, sir. We are just uncomfortable–”

“Then you two can stay put just the way you are until further notice or else there will be consequences. Got it?”

Connor drops his head immediately, but Ritch remains tall and proud.

“Yes sir.” the twins echo at the same time in different tones.

“Good. Miss Arlen, continue.”

“Yes sir.”

She goes on to call out the last pair, Kelly Wright and Leon Arsonilla. Then the singles are called out one by one. Traci Powell, Alex Mace, Melanie Goodwin, Jeremy Bukket, and Rico Salomon. She scribbles anything that needs to be written down on her notepad and in the appropriate file, then nods and takes a step back. Marshal Fowler takes this as his cue to step back into front and center to address the group.

“As you may or may not already know, this training is extremely hard, and not many people graduate. Most drop out because this was tougher to get through than they thought, and some were required to stop because their bodies and minds couldn’t handle the pressure that’s going to be on you starting tomorrow. Take this as your warning now. If some of you are iffy now–” he pointedly looks in the twins’ direction “–then passing training will be impossible for you.”

He turns his gaze to the class as a whole and starts slowly pacing again, “Most, if not all of you will not make it through training for one reason or another, so know that I have no real expectations for you lot. Do what you’re gonna do. Leave if you’re gonna leave. I don’t want to have to waste my time and resources on someone who knows they can’t stay to the end.” He stops front and center again, hands behind his back and looking almost bored. “Chloe is going to show you to your bunkers. You all have assigned rooms, pairs will share a room, singles will have a half-room or will be instructed to share temporarily. Dismissed.” He turns and starts walking out of the room.

Before the marshal even reaches the door, Chloe is herding and leading the group of young adults out. She shows them how to get to their hallway, telling them when the different training sessions, meals, and free time will start for the next few weeks so they aren’t late. As they turn into the hallway where all of the pilots stay, Chloe hands each person a small, folded paper with their names on the outside. Connor opens his up to find his room number and a four digit passcode. Once she finishes handing all of the slips of paper out, she wishes the group good luck then leaves them behind.

Everyone except Connor begins their hunt for their bunkers. The twin instead takes his time to finally get a good look at the place, now that he isn’t being rushed somewhere like a cattle in a traveling herd. The hallway here looks exactly the same as the first hallway they entered, only less busy and noisy. Connor starts stepping backwards towards where the others headed off to and notices that his boots don’t clang against the ground like he expected. He turns around to properly follow after the group, who are long gone now, and finds Ritch waiting for him with his arms impatiently crossed.

“Almost done staring at the pipes?” He lifts his eyebrow grumpily.

Connor lowers his head. “Yes. Sorry.”

Ritch lets out a harsh “hmph” with a slight scowl and spins around and starts walking without waiting for Connor. The latter hurries after his brother, not so much worried about losing him, but worried that if he doesn’t stick near him he’ll get distracted and lose his sense of time again.

They quickly and easily find their room. Connor puts in the pin, then Ritch opens the heavy, metal door. The space inside is kind of cramped. There’s more room in here than Connor expected, but it’s still small. Against the wall to the left are bunk beds, and against the wall directly in front of the duo is a desk and plenty of empty wall shelves for whatever they’ll need or want to store or display. They step inside and Connor notices a small bathroom to the right and locker-like closets against the same wall as the door. The center of the room has just enough open space to maybe fit a chair or two and still have room to shuffle around it, but Connor can’t see himself or Ritch wanting more than just the one desk chair in here, so it’s not a concern.

Ritch wastes no time in unpacking his things into one of the locker-closets. Connor follows his lead and starts putting their bathroom supplies away. By the time an hour has passed, Connor is standing on the chair in his comfy clothes to position his old kaiju and jaeger figurines on the very top shelf, and Ritch is laying down on the bottom bunk (“Good luck getting up there when you’re exhausted beyond belief,” he said when Connor claimed the top bunk) with a book open on his chest. All of their books are on the second to top shelf, leaving the bottom two completely open and clean for whatever they’re going to need to store in the near future.

Connor finishes messing with his figurines and hops down from the chair, pushing it in behind him as he makes his way to bed. He’s in the process of climbing up onto it (a slightly complicated task only because the bed is a bit smaller than a twin and has no obvious ladder) when someone knocks on the door. Ritch lowers his historical fiction book and looks at the door curiously, but makes no move to actually get up and answer it.

“Fine then, guess I’ll get it.” Connor indignantly grumbles, hopping back down to the ground.

“You’re the one who’s already up.” Ritch responds in a bored tone.

With an angry sigh, Connor skips looking through the peeper hole and opens the door. Markus, Simon, Josh, and North are all standing with polite smiles and relaxed postures. Connor gives a smile back, suddenly aware that he still had a scowl on his face.

“Hey guys, what brings you here?”

“Hi Connor,” Markus greets pleasantly, “We were wondering if you would like to join us to the cafeteria?”

“Dinner isn’t starting for another thirty minutes. What do you guys plan to do?” Ritch is suddenly standing right behind Connor.

“Ritch.” Connor hisses.

This is the first time he’s been asked to do something with the others. Yes, they were annoying the shit out of him earlier, but they aren’t bad people. Just very… lively, friendly. Connor doesn’t want to lose this chance on not being the outcast for once in his life. Stupid Connor and his stupid, puppy-like eagerness to please people and and to be liked.

“I’m just saying, Connor. Besides, weren’t you complaining–”

“Sure guys! I’ll come along!” Connor interrupts Ritch before he can finish that sentence. It earns him a glare from Ritch. “Just let me get some real clothes and shoes on! I’ll be just a moment.”

He rushes to shut the door, afraid that Ritch will let something else spill that could ruin his chances of getting along with the others. He hastily pulls off his clothes, then a t-shirt on before Ritch says anything from where he’s standing by the door, very annoyed.

“You’ve been annoyed with them all day.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re bad people.”

“You just want everyone to like you.”

“Is there a problem with that?” Connor pauses in putting his second sock on.

“There can be.”

Connor groans and puts the sock on, then starts putting his left boot on.

“Don’t give me that, Connor. We both know how you are with new people. You let yourself be used and don’t know when to draw the lines! Then you wonder why people use and get tired of you!”

Connor starts strapping his belt on with practiced precision, “I don’t see how that’s your any of your concern, Ritch.”

“Legally, we are partners.” Connor reaches for the door, but Ritch grabs his wrist. “You make a fool of yourself, you make a fool out of both of us. Amanda isn’t here to fix things this time, and she certainly can’t get us back in here if we get ourselves kicked out because you mentioned the wrong thing.” He lets go and steps back. “This is your dream career, Connor, remember that.” He turns and plops himself on the bed, the rustle of papers giving away that he’s gone back to reading.

“Sorry for the wait, guys,” Connor smiles and pulls the door shut. “Ritch just had some… concerns. But everything’s okay now. By the way, what are we doing until dinner?”

“We’re just going to stroll around, get used to the place.” Josh smiles politely.

“Ah.” he nods

“Do you wear anything other than that uniform?” North points to his outfit.

“Uh...”

Connor freezes and looks down at himself, with his dark grey t-shirt tucked into his lighter-grey cargo pants, his pants tucked into his black boots and held up by a black belt. It’s the same outfit he’s been wearing pretty much every day for the past decade, now. He looks back up at the others and notices their t-shirts with patterns, designs, and colors and jeans with simple tennis shoes. Hell, North is wearing leggings and sandals. Connor doesn’t think he’s ever worn sandals before in his life. They ruin posture, foot structure, and knee and hip joints if worn too often, and provide no coverage for people’s feet, so he hasn’t ever thought about wearing them. Yet, here he is, thinking about how it’s probably kind of strange that he hasn’t now that he really can’t wear them anymore.

“North–” Josh starts to reprimand, but Connor doesn’t let him finish.

“I guess not. I haven’t really thought about it until now I guess, but I haven’t really worn other types of clothing for the past several years.” Connor notes the genuine, innocent curiosity in his voice that he didn’t mean to let slip. He meant it to sound more sarcastic so they wouldn’t worry, dang it.

He guesses North notices too because she sounds sincere when she asks her next question once they’ve started walking.

“Several years? You’ve just been wearing boots and cargo pants everywhere for years?”

Connor turns his head to North, “Yes, unless there was a social gathering we– Ritch and I, I mean– were required to attend.” He faces forward again, “In those cases we usually wore suits.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Connor can see Markus lean forward to try to make eye contact with him, so he turns his head again. How do people handle talking to large groups like this? What if someone doesn’t get to speak because the others are too busy chatting away? His thoughts get back on track and in the present as Markus speaks.

“Were these ‘social gatherings’ a normal occurrence for you growing up?”

“Kind of?”

“Kind of?” Simon repeats as a question of “what do you mean?”

“Well, Amanda would have parties and gatherings often enough, but we usually weren’t allowed to attend since there was wine and other alcohol involved, so on those nights we stayed outside and trained in the dark.”

“Training before you were legally allowed to have alcohol? Exactly how old are you?” Josh inquires.

“We’ll be turning 23 in a couple of weeks.”

North’s eyes widen, “Woah, what the hell? You’re so young!”

“Am I? How old are all of you?” Connor doesn’t know how successful he was in covering his slowly-growing anxiety at being the odd one out before getting a chance to fit in.

Markus answers, “I’m 28, Simon’s 27, Josh and North are both 26.”

“I’m turning 27 in two and a half months!” Josh proudly declares.

Connor desperately wants to ask if that’s the average age for trainees to be, but is, quite frankly, afraid of what the answer will be. Therefore, he states an observation instead so there isn’t a noticeable gap while he tries to think something else up.

“You guys are very close in age.”

“Yea,” Simon nods, “I was in the same elementary class as Markus, and Josh was in the same class as North, and Markus and Josh are brothers so we all met up.”

“Best friends ever since.” Markus smiles.

“How long have you been training for, then?” North jumps into the conversation expectantly.

Connor doesn’t really want to think about this, let alone talk about it with strangers who have been annoying him all week. It’s not their fault, and they’re really nice people, Connor just isn’t used to being around so many others for such an extended time. The fact that he hasn’t had any proper down time isn’t exactly helping his social aptitude, either. Maybe he should have listened to Ritch earlier, but he just wants things to be different this time.

“Uh, well... How long have you guys been training?”

“For about a year.” Markus answers easily.

Oh.

Something must show on his face because Simon asks how long he’s been training again, except this time he asks it in a way that seems more sympathetic and concerned. His tone catches Connor completely off guard. He doesn’t know what to do when people start treating him like more than some kind of dog or machine that’s eager to please, despite that being exactly what he wants. Those kinds of moments were few and far between before he got here. Now, it’s only been a week that he’s seen these strangers, and he hasn’t even talked with them properly before now, but they already seem to regard him as one of their acquaintances.

And this exact moment is what Ritch meant when he told Connor to watch himself, isn’t it?

Well, now Connor can’t exactly dodge the question any further, can he? Since Simon seems so genuinely interested. That, and there’s been a few, solid seconds of silence since the question was asked. He’d seem like an extreme freak to not answer such a simple question.

“Uh–”

Were all of those years of training and forcing ourselves on really for nothing? Was that Amanda’s deranged way of entertainment all this time? What if they’re the ones that are being too lax and won’t make it through because of that? But if we were meant to do heavy training before now, why would we have these months of official “training” on top of that? Did Ritch and I really have to push ourselves so hard? What if–

“Connor?” Markus’ voice interrupts his anxiety.

Stop it Connor! You’re starting to look like a freak! Don’t you want friends?

“I think it’s been just over ten years now?”

“Ten years?!” all four of them blurt out with varying levels of concern and bewilderment.

Just stop talking Connor, you stupid fucking idiot! You need to give normal responses! Normal!

“Yeah, it might’ve been a bit overkill, now that I think about it. But there’s no changing the past, right?” Connor sounds so awkward, but he doesn’t know how to make it stop. “Guess that’s just life.”

“You were twelve when you started training?”

“Uh– No. I– We were closer to ten? But I’m– We’re not bothered by it–”

“Did you even get a childhood? Or was that spent–”

“North.” Josh swats her arm.

“What?”

“I’m sorry about her,” Markus apologizes, “She can be a bit abrasive sometimes.”

Connor wrings his hands together, “That’s alright. Isn’t everyone at times?”

He definitely should have listened to Ritch back in their bunker.

“I mean, I guess, but not as often as North.”

“Hey!”

Their playful bickering continues as they wander the halls, and they must pick up on Connor’s discomfort from before because they don’t ask any questions about him or his past anymore. There are times where he feels like he is intruding on their time together, kind of like the fifth wheel, but that’s how it always is when a group of friends try to accept a new member, right? That, and Connor also isn’t super into being a part of large groups anyway (anything larger than three people is a large group for him, though, so...).

“Hey there, trainees!” a woman with tan skin and black hair calls out– jaeger pilot Tina Chen, “You’re heading to the cafeteria, yea?”

“Yes ma’am.” Simon answers respectfully.

“Just Tina will do. I’m on my way there myself. I can show you which tables have been claimed by who when we get there,” she smiles nicely, “C’mon. Let’s go get some grub!”

They make it to the food court area, and Tina shows them which tables they should be welcome to sit at, and which ones they should avoid at least for now. There’s two tables she points out– the one closest to the door that’s completely empty and a partially full one towards the back of the room– that she says are completely off limits until further notice. When Markus asks why, she explains that she and her little group sit there, and two people in her friend group are known for being very easily agitated, so it’d be better for them to just stay away. She then goes on to say that the table by the door is just one that no one wants to sit at.

Connor’s aware that there’s a warning in the way she says it, but he elects to ignore it. That specific table sounds like the perfect place to take a well-needed break from people and their accidentally invasive questions. He can just get up and leave when whoever sits there normally arrives.

So Connor gets his food, and silently thanks whatever higher power there may or may not be when the group of four move to sit at a table in the center of the room without asking Connor where he’s going or if he wants to join them. He sits down on the farthest end of the barren table, noticing how clean it looks compared to the other tables. Connor idly wonders if it’s cursed or something. Even if it was, Connor would still sit here, considering he’s pretty sure he’s already been cursed to some degree–

“Who the fuck are you?”

Connor whips his head to the source of the gruff voice and is met with the Hank Anderson. Sure, his hair is grey and shoulder length rather than the neatly trimmed blonde it was before, and he’s definitely gained quite a few pounds, but there’s no mistaking that this is the person who inspired Connor to become a jaeger pilot those years ago. Which means this is the same Hank Anderson that retired due to unknown reasons. Why would he still be here if he isn’t a pilot anymore?

“My name is Connor and I’m a new trainee–”

“Yea yea, whatever, I don’t actually care. What I do care about is why the fuck you’re hanging around my table. You don’t look like you need anythin’.” The older man crosses his arms angrily, the smell of alcohol wafts from him, and Connor can just tell it’s not the expensive, celebratory kind that Amanda was known for providing.

Connor doesn’t know what happened to make him slip like this during the past several years– because he’s pretty damn sure that the Hank Anderson from ten years ago was not this bitter and vulgar– but he has a pressing feeling that it’s probably the same reason he decided to retire from being a pilot. And while Connor wants to know what happened, he also has personal experience with people asking well-meaning but invasive and mildly to majorly triggering questions. Therefore, Connor doesn’t mention recognizing him, and makes a mental note to never ask him personal questions and such.

Connor lowers his head just a bit, but doesn’t break eye contact with Mr. Anderson. It’s the perfect picture of being genuinely guilty and apologetic, according to Amanda’s and Ritch’s reactions to this posture. Anything to let him know that Connor really didn’t mean to intrude on his valuable personal time.

“I wanted a break from all of the people and was told that this table was always empty and off limits.” Connor shifts, already grabbing his tray to move and eat in the hallway or against the wall or something. He’d prefer that embarrassment over having to deal with anyone else today.

Mr. Anderson sighs heavily, then throws up his arms as a sign of “fuck it”. “Fuckin’ hell. Can’t deny a man some fuckin’ peace and quiet now can I?” He harshly points at Connor as he continues, “Just don’t think you can start botherin’ me or some shit just ‘cause I let you sit here today, got it newbie?”

“Yes sir.”

“And knock it off with the ‘sir’ already. I ain’t your boss.”

Before Connor can even reply, the very-likely-drunk man stumbles off to the line for food. Connor catches some strangers’ eye from the table behind him and quickly turns to sit properly on the bench. Unlike before, Connor keeps his head and eyes down and doesn’t look up from his plate, despite the stares he can feel dragging along his back. This was the exact opposite of what he wanted by sitting at this table. He didn’t know what he expected, though– actually, he did.

He expected that because people appeared to be completely ignoring the table itself, he was hoping he would be ignored along with it, but that is absolutely not the case. It’s only his first day here and yet he’s gotten himself on bad terms with the marshal, made multiple people think he’s some kind of pity-fest freak, and probably already managed to get himself a reputation of sitting at Hank Anderson’s table even though it’s very clear that no one is welcome. He’s probably going to be labeled as the “problem child” (or would it be “problem man”?) by the end of tomorrow if he hasn’t already, and anything he does is automatically applied to Ritch as well, considering they have the same face.

Ritch is going to be pissed.

“Would you stop with the fork thing, kid?” Mr Anderson’s voice snaps, “Fuck’s sake.”

“I’m sorry.” Connor responds automatically upon hearing Mr. Anderson’s irritation. He isn’t even sure when he returned or how long he’s been sitting there.

Connor has learned over the years that it’s always best to apologize first. It makes people easier to talk to and negotiate with. That, and rarely ever just say “sorry”, as that can too easily be mistaken for sarcasm or insincerity, but also don’t use the phrase “I’m sorry” too often, or people will come to believe that he’s rarely meant it genuinely. “I’m sorry”, “I apologize”, “My bad”, and “Forgive me” are the basic ones– the equivalent of the root of a word, one could say– and if it’s anything more serious, Connor uses “I sincerely apologise”, “I’m very sorry”, “I am so very sorry”, “Please forgive me”, “It’s my fault”, or a combination or repetition of any of these phrases.

Stupid Connor and his stupid habits. Except this is one of the few habits he wouldn’t call stupid, since this one generally helps fix something or lessens the blow after he really was an idiot.

Connor suddenly realizes that he hasn’t touched his food since Mr. Anderson confronted him earlier. Connor takes one more bite, but doesn’t try to force any more down. Amanda isn’t around and neither is Ritch (not that he’d really do anything, hopefully), so surely he can leave food on his plate, right?

Wrong. He needs the calories if he’s going to continue working and training hard. He really doesn’t want to pass out mid-fight again; it never ends well for one reason or another when he does. Therefore, with a cringe, Connor forces himself to take another bite and chews slowly, as if the food will simply disappear in his mouth if he chews it long enough.

“What the fuck’s got you in a twist?” the familiar gruff voice asks from the other end of the table. Connor notes that he sounds somewhat annoyed, if not a tad curious.

Connor can fix that, probably, since he is the reason for his irritation. He straightens his posture and gets ready to get up and leave, despite there still being food on his plate. He ignores the rush of bad feelings he gets for not finishing.

“Nothing that should bother me, if I’m to be a jaeger pilot.” Connor makes to get up and bid the older man farewell when said man speaks up suddenly.

“What do you mean, ‘nothing that should bother you’? Are pilots not people?”

A quick glance over at him shows that Hank has his eyebrows furrowed and his arms crossed in a defensive manner. Why does everything Connor does to try to placate people here always backfire? Is something wrong with him? Well, more wrong than he already knows, anyway?

“I meant no offense or harm by that. It’s just been a long week for me even though it would be tame for a real pilot.” Hank opens his mouth to say something, but Connor cuts him off, “Ah– I’ve talked too much again. I’ll go ahead and get out of your hair. I apologize.”

Connor gets up from the bench then promptly throws his tray out before his mind can force him to stay and somehow finish it. Connor takes a quick glance around the cafeteria area, noting with something weighing his chest down that everyone else in the room is in comfortable clothes or official uniforms except for Ritch, but he doesn’t seem too bothered with that fact with how he’s seems to be getting along with Simon and the others. He spins around to head out of the crowded area and go back to his room to reset after today and sleep. As he passes Mr. Anderson, who’s been staring at him like he’s trying to solve a difficult puzzle, Connor decides he might as well properly say goodbye, so he doesn’t come off as just plain rude by walking past Mr. Anderson as if he doesn’t exist.

“Thank you for putting up with me today, Mr. Anderson, I hope your evening gets better.” after I ruined your peaceful dinner, Connor finishes in his head.

Connor doesn’t see how Mr. Anderson tenses up upon hearing his name, because he never told Connor his name and he hasn’t met anyone who has recognized him in years because he’s fallen so far down. Connor doesn’t see because he's already hastily making his way back to his bunker, where he can’t possibly screw anything else up unless he’s still awake when Ritch gets back to their room. That doesn’t happen, however, because as soon as Connor gets inside, changes into sleeping clothes (because he was always told “pajamas” were for children), and gets himself tucked into his tiny bed, he’s out like a light.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Masterlist <~> Next

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

A/N: I hope you didn’t hate this chapter! This chapter is in Connor’s POV, I know, and I promise Reed900 will come soon, just not for a couple of chapters, ya dig? Gotta raise the anticipation (I hope)! Next chapter will likely be a mixture of Ritch’s POV and Hank’s. Maybe a bit of Connor too? I haven’t decided yet. Anyway, Ima go and stop procrastination housework Lol. Thank you anyone for reading!! Ciao! <33

#hankcon #hank x connor #hank anderson x connor #reed900 #gavin reed x rk900 #gavin x rk900 #hankcon fanfic #reed900 fanfic #reed900 fanfiction #hankcon fanfiction #900reed #reed900 au #hannor fanfiction #hannor au #hannor fanfic #pacific rim!au #slow burn #The Drift Between Us #chapter 1

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reniyasz-blog · 5 years

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Renewal by Andersen of Long Island replacement window grille gives the flexibility to design windows and bring your home’s personality without breaking the bank.

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ebaeschnbliah · 5 years

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S E K H M E T

________________________________________________________________

The lioness goddesses of war and healing, who could only be appeased with the “feasts of drunkenness"

Some time ago, before S4 aired, I posted about the Prince’s case from TGG, with an addition/revision three months later - Connie Kenny & Raoul . In the course of the last two years, and with the new informations given in S4, some of my former ideas and theories have changed, some expanded. Which can be expected with this story full of surprises. :)

My interpretaation of the character mirrors in the Prince’s case though, is today the same as in the addition from Dec 2016:

Connie Prince/Mycroft/brain

Kenny Prince/Sherlock/body

Raoul de Santos/Jim/sex

Sekhmet the cat/John/love

Back then I did only a very quick research of Sekhmet, the Egyptian goddess, because my main focus was on the human actors. Still, the combination of warrior and healer in Sekhmet’s attributes, combined with a strong connection to the sun, convinced me that this cat represents John. John is a soldier and a doctor, he hasn’t only a strong connection to the sun (conductor of light) but also to the lion … panthera leo ... family: felidae … cats.

“Sekhmet. Named after the Egyptian goddess.” (Kenny Prince, TGG)

Playing around with the five cases of TGG lately (Bruce-Partington), Sekhmet the cat came into focus once more and I researched that Egyptian goddess a bit more deeply … and found a lot of interesting and astonishing things I never noticed before.

Anyone who is interested in Egyptian goddesses in connection with Sherlock BBC, some musings on cats & lions and a little bit on dogs as well ... there’s more under the cut ….

Sekhmet

In ancient Egypt Sekhmet was worshipped as a warrior goddess as well as a goddess of healing. She was depicted in art as a lioness, the fiercest hunter known to the Egyptians or as a woman with the head of a lioness, who was dressed in red, the colour of blood. Sekhmet was also a solar deity, sometimes called the daughter of Ra and bears the Uraeus (serpent), and the solar disk on her head. She is closely associated with the goddesses Hathor and Bastet and the Eye of Ra.

Meaning of the name Sekhmet: "the one who is powerful or mighty". Sekhmet was also called "One before whom evil trembles", "Mistress of Dread", "Lady of Slaughter" and "She who mauls". It was said that her breath formed the desert. She was seen as the protector of the pharaohs and led them in warfare.

The festivals of intoxication

To pacify Sekhmet, festivals were celebrated … the Egyptians danced and played music to soothe the wildness of the goddess and drank great quantities of wine ritually, to imitate the extreme drunkenness that stopped the wrath of the goddess, when she almost destroyed humanity.

Hathor

She was a major goddess who played a wide variety of roles and was one of several goddesses who acted as the Eye of Ra, Ra's feminine counterpart, and in this form she had a vengeful aspect that protected him from his enemies.

Hathor was often depicted as a cow, symbolizing her maternal and celestial aspects, although her most common form was a woman wearing a headdress of cow horns and a sun disk. She could also be represented as a lioness or a cobra. Titles given to her were: ‘Mistress of the Stars/Sky’, ‘Mistress of Love’, ‘Lady of the Offering/Contentment’.

Myths connecting Sekhmet and Hathor

In a myth about the end of Ra's rule on the earth, Ra sends Hathor as Sekhmet to destroy mortals who conspired against him. Sekhmet's blood-lust was not quelled at the end of battle and led to her destroying almost all of humanity, so Ra poured out beer, dyed red, so that it resembled blood. Mistaking the beer for blood, she became so drunk that she gave up the slaughter and returned peacefully to Ra.

In the ‘Book of the Heavenly Cow’. Ra sends Hathor as the Eye of Ra to punish humans for plotting rebellion against his rule. She becomes the lioness goddess Sekhmet and massacres the rebellious humans, but Ra decides to prevent her from killing all humanity. He orders that beer be dyed red and poured out over the land. The Eye goddess drinks the beer, mistaking it for blood, and in her inebriated state reverts to being the benign and beautiful Hathor.

The two aspects of the Eye goddess ... violent and dangerous versus beautiful and joyful ... reflected the Egyptian belief that women encompassed both extreme passions of fury and love.

Bastet

Originally she was also worshipped as a lioness goddess, just as Sekhmet. Along with the other lioness goddesses, Bastet would occasionally be depicted as the embodiment of the Eye of Ra and her festival was celebrated with great amouts of wine. Her name became associated with the lavish jars in which Egyptians stored their ointment used as perfume. Bastet thus gradually became regarded as the goddess of perfumes, earning the title of ‘perfumed protector’. Greeks occupying ancient Egypt toward the end of its civilization changed her into a goddess of the moon.

Eventually Bastet and Sekhmet were characterized as two aspects of the same goddess, with Sekhmet representing the dangerous side of her personality and Bastet, who was increasingly depicted as a cat, representing her benign side.

The Eye of Ra

The Eye of Ra is a feminine counterpart to the sun god Ra and a violent force that subdues his enemies. It is an extension of Ra's power, equated with the disk of the sun, but it is also an independent entity, which can be personified by goddesses like Hathor, Sekhmet, Bastet and others. The Eye goddess acts as mother, sibling, consort, and daughter of the sun god. She is his partner in the creative cycle in which he begets the renewed form of himself that is born at dawn.

The Egyptians often referred to the sun and the moon as the "eye"s of particular gods. At times they called the solar eye the "Eye of Ra" and the lunar eye the "Eye of Horus". The related hieroglyphs show the eye iconographically mirrored … from the perspective of the viewer it’s the left eye, from the viewpoint of the god, it’s the right one.

Source of historical information and images: Wikipedia (Sekhmet, Hathor, Bastet Eye of Ra)

Astonishing details shared with Sherlock BBC

The symbol of the eye turns up throughout the whole story. The sprayed eye from TBB and Sherlock’s eye from TEH. ( Eyes Eyes & Questionmarks)

Women dressed in red. Mary in TEH and Faith in TLD

A woman wearing cow horns. Mary in TSOT and Janine can also be seen with them in HLV.

A woman wearing a snake on her head. Amanda in TBB.

The ‘Perfumed Protector’ and the moon. Sherlock and Mary from TEH and Claire de la Lune from HLV. (Claire de la Lune Clair De La Lune Perfume Deduction All things are blue

Lots of lions. These are both from TBB. (John is the Lion sculpture Cupid lions and omnia vincit Amor TBB - hic sunt leones Corporal Lyons’ insignias of love Lions in TAB)

The conductor of light. John in TGG and THOB.

A feast of drunkeness. Sherlock and John in TSOT.

Sekhmet (TGG and a pic of the Gayer-Anderson Cat, which is believed to be a representation of Bastet (X)

Could it be that someone involved with Sherlock BBC is a big fan of Ancient Egypt? Or is all this just coincidence? Anyway, Sekhmet, Hathor, Bastet and the Eye of Ra …. all of them are closely connected to one another.

one transforms into the other and back again

one develops from the other

they represent different aspects of the same thing

Regarding Sherlock BBC, this duality feels rather familiar. Especially where the ‘canines’ of the story are concerned. As @sagestreet points out in the Follow the Dog metas, all dogs are connected to sex and the fear of sex is represented by the monstrous hound. Two variations of canines serve to express different attitudes towards sexuality.

At the same time there are also two human characters (male and female) who act as main mirrors for sexuality … Jim Moriarty, who conveniently calls himself Mr. Sex and Irene Adler, the cunning dominatrix. And in one scene from THOB two dogs can be seen in a shop, sitting side by side behind glass.

Sexuality is a very important aspect in life and in this story as well. Dogs and traces of dogs are interwined with it from the first to the last episode. RedBeard, either Irish Setter or someone else, turns out to be a key element in Sherlock’s past.

What about love?

There’s another important aspect in life and in this story, besides sexuality. This aspect is love. How farfetched is it to assume that love might be portrayed in a similar way as sex? There exist already two human characters (male and female) who are widely considered to be main mirrors for love … John Watson and Molly Hooper. But is there also an animal who could represent love, like the dogs represent sex? An animal that appears, similar to the canines, in two different variations?

Two cats in one pic, sitting in a shop behind glass … very similar to the two dogs in Speedy’s window. There are also two variations of felines who play a role in the story … cats and lions. A tame pet version and the big, wild and dangerous relative of the same species. And while John Watson is connected to lion and sun, Molly Hooper owns Toby the cat.

Yes. I am officially going to be a mad old cat woman. I'm 31 and I'm single and I've bought a cat. But he's great. He's called Toby. (Molly’s blog)

Felines …. cats and lions

A cat can scratch and bite you. It hurts, yes, but it wont kill you. A lion though, that one surely is able to ‘break every bone in your body, while naming it’ and can easily shred your heart into tiny pieces. Lions also often suffocate their prey by covering the muzzle. It’s called ‘the kiss of death’.

Molly & Irene - female mirrors for love & sex

There exists a striking similarity between Molly Hooper (love) and Irene Adler (sex). At Christmas in ASIB, both women send a gift for Sherlock (Mouth like a crimson wound). On both ocassions the wrapping paper is colour-coordinated with the lipstick. ‘The shade of red echoes her lipstick’ explains Sherlock in Molly’s case while the picture of Irene’s gift comes with a flashback to the beginning of the episode when she decides that a ‘shade of blood’ would be the perfect colour for her lips. Sherlock opens only one of the two presents that day … that of Irene (sex). I wrote about it in Explosive, it’s more me . The content of Molly’s present (love), is never revealed.

John & Jim - male mirrors for love & sex

Choices and consequences … that’s a main theme which runs through the whole story and Sherlock seems to be torn between two aspects: John or James, James or John, saint or sinner … friend or lover … the more is less. This topic is adressed in detail in Solutions or Choices and The Big Question - The menaing of Reichenbach. Therefore I leave it here. The picture below shows the strong connection between John (love) and Jim (sex) very clearly.

Sex and love

Sex - is action. It can be the breathtaking fulfillment of love. It can be given without love, it can be supressed, it can be sold, bought or taken by force. Sexuality can be controlled and locked away somewhere deep down in the hidden places of the soul.

Love - is quite a different matter. Love can’t be supressed, sold or bought, or taken by force. Love can’t be given if it’s not there in the first place. Love can’t be controlled. Love is what it is. If love is there, it’s there. If not, then not. Love isn’t action. It is emotion.

Therfore love is a much more dangerous aspect to deal with than sex … if one tries to avoid it because one is afraid of it.

How to deal with too much unwanted emotion?

If Jim represents sex in this story, Sherlock’s counter measure against Mr. Sex seems to be a padded cell deep down in his mind palace. Here he keeps the unwanted urges fixed in a straight jacket and chained to the wall with an iron leash …. like a monstrous hound from hell (Shoes for the hound). A measure probably based on the pinciple: ‘don’t want it, don’t act on it’

LESTRADE: ... but these (murders) do appear to be suicides. We know the difference. The, um, the poison was clearly self-administered. REPORTER 3: Yes, but if they are murders, how do people keep themselves safe? LESTRADE: Well, don’t commit suicide.

Counter measures against love

If John represent love, how does Sherlock deal with love? This indomitable, uncontainable emotion. How does he react to a feeling he fears and desires at the same time? Comparing love to a powerful and deadly animal like a lion(ess) … what measures does Sherlock take to deal with that lion(ess)? How does one keep a dangerous lion(ess), if one can’t control that creature, that emotion?

If one can’t chain it … maybe one can change it?

It is known that Sherlock changes stories he doesn’t like. Could he apply a similar treatment to an emotion he fears? Transforms Sherlock LOVE, the mighty lion(ess), into a harmless cat, so he can keep it without danger. And the only remnant which indicates the actual origin of that ‘cat’ is the name Sherlock chooses for her in the play he creates on his mind stage ….. Sekhmet, the lioness goddess of war and healing.

The cat breed chosen to play Sekhmet is a Sphynx Cat. Maybe that's not just another lovely nod to Ancient Egypt. It could also confirm Sherlock’s strategy to deal with his fear of an emotion like love ... by diminishing the source of that fear. Because of all cat breeds on this planet, Sphynx Cats are among the most vulnerable and helpless ones.

Without a fur, their body isn’t protected against sunburn, hot/cold/wet weather, bites/scratches from other animals. They need to be bathed regularly to remove body-oils which would normally be absorbed by the fur. Without the constant care of their humans, those cats would not be able to survive outdoors for long. Maybe as a reaction to this helplessness, these cats have developed a very close and more dog-like relationship with humans.

Diminishing the source of a fear in order to bypass it, to better cope with it … this strategy is also adressed in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, when Professor Lupin introduces his pupils to a boggart and teaches them how to deal with that creature:

"It's a shape-shifter. It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most. Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces, Nobody knows what a boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears.”

“The charm that repels a boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing …. force it to look comical.” (X)

Transforming a fear into something that is ridiculous or something that is profoundly helpless, achieves quite the same result. The fear might not go away but it diminishes.

The conclusion of the Prince’s case

It isn’t Kenny, it is Connie who owns Sekhmet the cat and it is also Connie who employs Raoul de Santos. An appropiate choice if Connie indeed represents the brain. Both, the chemistry of love and of sex, have their origins in the brain after all.

The scenario performed in this little play on Sherlock’s mind stage, tells the story of a man (Kenny/Sherlock), of a body, who is clearly ruled and dominated by his brain (Connie/Mycroft). And that body isn’t happy at all under the reign of this government. It’s a brain that ‘works’, that ‘shows off’, a brain that knows exactly ‘what goes best with what’. While the body, the transport, gets constantly bullied, ridiculed and forced into a role it doesn’t want. But apparently there are also parts of the same brain that contemplate thoughts of love (Sekhmet/John) and sex (Raoul de Santos/Jim).

Mirrored in the shiny surface of the table: John & Sekhmet (love & love on different levels) while Raoul (sex) is silently lurking in the background.

By the end of this scenario Sherlock seems to come to the conclusion that sex would be the death of brain. Better and more reasonable to lock sex up somewhere deep down inside himself and stay safely back with the harmless cat. Definitely leave the lion in the bag. Cat/love/John without sex/Raoul/Jim would still be love …. philia/agape …. not eros.

The outcome of the Prince’s experiment seems to be Sherlock’s basis for the following experiments. At any rate, by the end of The Reichenbach Fall, he comes to a very similar conclusion. Here too Sherlock chooses brain/work over love and sex. This time to save friendship (philia) and he sends his body into hiatus/undercover … into a metaphorical coffin.

Then he puts on a facade to hide his true self behind it. And Sherlock keeps the cat/lion(ess) because, after all, he (Sherlock/Mary) is a big cat lover.

Thanks for reading this far. I leave you to your own deductions. Thanks @callie-ariane for the scripts. :)

November, 2018

Related metas which inspired me:

Follow the dog Meta-Series Cats and dogs Conny and Kenny Prince John is the Lion sculpture

Cupid lions and omnia vincit Amor TBB - hic sunt leones Corporal Lyons’ insignias of love Lions in TAB

Sherlock Cats&Dogs

@gosherlocked @sherlockshadow @possiblyimbiassed @raggedyblue @sarahthecoat @sagestreet @loveismyrevolution @spenglernot

#sekhmet #connie and kenny prince #tgg #cats and love

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amorpang-blog · 5 years

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TECHNO TRENDS

AUTOMATION

Automation can be performed in many ways in various industries. For example, in the information technology domain, a software script can test a software product and produce a report. There are also various software tools available in the market which can generate code for an application. The users only need to configure the tool and define the process. In other industries, automation is greatly improving productivity, saving time and cutting costs.

Automation is evolving quickly and business intelligence in applications is a new form of high-quality automation. In the technology domain, the impact of automation is increasing rapidly, both in the software/hardware and machine layer. However, despite advances in automation, some manual intervention is always advised, even if the tool can perform most of the tasks.

AutoMotion was founded in 2006 by Ben Anderson who currently serves as CEO. an automotive video solution for auto dealers. The service included an embeddable player, delivery platform, and vehicle video content. The company was awarded several state and regional awards for student entrepreneurship including the Minnesota Collegiate Entrepreneur Award, and Anderson was named the Great Lakes Regional Collegiate Entrepreneur.The Minnesota Cup, in conjunction with the University of Minnesota named AutoMotionTV as a semi-finalist.[3] Anderson was also named as a global finalist[4] in the Global Student Entrepreneur Awards.

In March 2008, AutoMotion was featured in Automotive News as one of their "10 cool technologies".2008 also brought a partnership with JATO Dynamics, an England-based data provider.

In October the company opened up a new downtown Minneapolis office.

Dominion Enterprises partnered with AutoMotion in October 2009 to provide video technology and content to its family of companies.

In 2010, the company launched a new mobile app platform for manufacturers and dealers.

The company's president, Ben Anderson, was awarded the 2011 Minnesota Young Entrepreneur of the Year by the Small Business Administration.

The company's CEO speaks regularly on mobile for automotive OEMs and automotive events including General Motors and J.D. Power and Associates.General Motors Company selected Anderson to speak on mobile during the 2012 eSummit Tour.

In a partnership with Microsoft the company launched a Windows 8 version of the mobile app platform in 2013.

In 2013 General Motors selected the AutoMotion product as the only mobile app provider approved for IMR certification.

Group 1 Automotive was the first large automotive retailer to release mobile apps for each of its dealerships. The group used the AutoMotion platform to roll out apps to all US stores in 2014.

REFERENCES:

https://www.techopedia.com/definition/32099/automation

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/AutoMotion

ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE

The ability of a digital computer or computer-controlled robot to perform tasks commonly associated with intelligent beings. The term is frequently applied to the project of developing systems endowed with the intellectual processes characteristic of humans, such as the ability to reason, discover meaning, generalize, or learn from past experience. Since the development of the digital computer in the 1940s, it has been demonstrated that computers can be programmed to carry out very complex tasks—as, for example, discovering proofs for mathematical theorems or playing chess—with great proficiency. Still, despite continuing advances in computer processing speed and memory capacity, there are as yet no programs that can match human flexibility over wider domains or in tasks requiring much everyday knowledge. On the other hand, some programs have attained the performance levels of human experts and professionals in performing certain specific tasks, so that artificial intelligence in this limited sense is found in applications as diverse as medical diagnosis, computer search engines, and voice or handwriting recognition.

Ariticial Intelligence in games

In video games, artificial intelligence (AI) is used to generate responsive, adaptive or intelligent behaviors primarily in non-player characters (NPCs) similar to human-like intelligence. Artificial intelligence has been an integral part of video games since their inception in the 1950s.The role of AI in video games has expanded greatly since its introduction. Modern games often implement existing techniques from the field of artificial intelligence such as pathfinding and decision trees to guide the actions of NPCs. Additionally, AI is often used in mechanisms which are not immediately visible to the user, such as data mining and procedural-content generation.

REFERENCES:

https://www.britannica.com/technology/artificial-intelligence

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Artificial_intelligence_in_video_games

AUTOBIOGRAPHY

My name is Maria Amor Pangandoyon. I was born on 27 June, 2001 in Candabong,Argao,Cebu, where I lived until the time I went to Senior HIghScho. I’m the fourth child in the family. My father, Mr.JOnathan Sixto Pangandoyon Jr is a task force in the Municipal Argao.My mother, Mrs.Maribel Pangandoyon is a housewife. My childhood dream was to be a nurse but now I just want to have a stable work with a good income so that I can help my family interms of financial support, I can by the things I want and also one of my dream is to travel the world.I am grateful to my parents because they always support my decisions,they raise us with fear to God,to respect and love others whatever the status is.My role model was my father and my eldest sister.One of the most memorable day of my life will be on February 14,2019 because it's my parents renewal of vows and that day I will witness my mother walking in the aisle and witness their exchanging in vows.My motto in life is if others can do it in willingness I can also do it.

Having a friends with you is fun but having friends with the same mental disability with you is so much fun.A friend that will stay in good and badtimes, a friend that will listen to all your dramas in life and a friend that treats you like a family. Having them by my side makes my badmood into good and funny.So I'm thankful that I have them and I will cherish this friendship that we have.It was fun while it last.

#friends for life

2 notes · View notes

loadsex178 · 2 years

Text

Stattools For Mac Excel

But what if you work for a math-heavy industry, pharmacology, medicine or sociology, and complex statistical analysis is part of your daily routine? Did you find a user-friendly data analysis tool that works on your Mac?

Mac Excel Free

Mac Excel Download

Mac Excel Trial

Stattools For Mac Excel 2017

Palisade Stattools

Mac Excel Commands

Stattools For Mac Excel

Aug 19, 2020 StatTools is a true add-in to Microsoft Excel, integrating completely with your spreadsheet. Browse, define, analyze, while never leaving Excel. StatTools replaces Excel’s built-in statistics functions with its own calculations. The accuracy of Excel’s built-in statistics calculations has often been questioned, so StatTools doesn’t use them. StatTools is a true add-in to Microsoft Excel, integrating completely with your spreadsheet.

StatPlus:mac turns your copy of Microsoft Excel for Mac (2004 - 2019) or Apple Numbers into a powerful statistical tool without making you learn another software or part with extraordinary amounts of money. You'll use the familiar interface to perform complex analysis and calculations, enabling you to concentrate on analyzing the results rather than figuring out how to achieve them.

Upgrade Your Spreadsheet

Turn Microsoft Excel or Apple Numbers into a powerful statistical package with StatPlus:mac and perform data analysis on a Mac in the familiar environment. Stop wasting your time learning new tools and try StatPlus:mac right away.

70+ Features

StatPlus:mac allows Mac users to perform all forms of data analysis from the very basics to complex analysis, including non-parametric and regression analysis, survival and time series analysis, and a wide variety of other methods. Version 7 includes standalone spreadsheet and can be used without Microsoft Excel or Apple Numbers installed.

Multi-platform

StatPlus:mac is available for both Mac and PC platforms (PC version includes standalone and Excel add-in versions) at no extra charge. Save learning time and costs for your mixed PC and Mac environment.

Free Trial

We have free trial that gives you an opportunity to evaluate the software before you purchase it. Should you have any questions during the trial period, please feel free to contact our Support Team.

Affordable

StatPlus:mac is most affordable solution for data analysis on Mac (with Excel and Numbers support). You will benefit from the reduced learning curve and attractive pricing while enjoying the benefits of precise routines and calculations. Mac/PC license is permanent, there is no renewal charges.

Requirements

StatPlus:mac requires macOS 10.9-10.15 (macOS Catalina is supported; v5 requires 10.5+). StatPlus:mac supports Microsoft Excel for Mac (supported versions: 2004, 2008, 2011, 2016, 2019) and Apple Numbers v3/v4/v5 as a data source. StatPlus:mac does not require Internet connection (except for optional auto-update feature).

Statistical features list

Pro Features

Standalone spreadsheet with Excel (XLS and XLSX), OpenOffice/LibreOffce Calc (ODS) and text documents support.

'Add-in' mode for Excel 2004, 2008, 2011, 2016 and 2019.

'Add-in' mode for Apple Numbers v3, v4 and v5.

Priority support.

Permanent license and free major upgrades during the maintenance period.

Access to Windows version.

Options to emulate Excel Analysis ToolPak results and migration guide for users switching from Analysis ToolPak.

Basic Statistics

Detailed descriptive statistics.

One-sample t-test.

Two-sample t-test.

Two-sample t-test for summarized data.

Fisher F-test.

One-sample and two-sample z-tests.

Correlation analysis and covariance.

Normality tests (Jarque-Bera, Shapiro-Wilk, Shapiro-Francia, Cramer-von Mises, Anderson-Darling, Kolmogorov-Smirnov, D'Agostino's tests).

Cross-tabulation and Chi-square.

Frequency tables analysis (for discrete and continuous variables).

Multiple definitions for computing quantile statistics.

Analysis of Variance (ANOVA)

One-way and two-way ANOVA (with and without replications).

Three-way analysis of variance.

Post-hoc comparisons - Bonferroni, Tukey-Kramer, Tukey B, Tukey HSD, Neuman-Keuls, Dunnett.

General Linear Models (GLM) ANOVA.

Within subjects ANOVA and mixed models.

Multivariate Analysis

Principal component analysis (PCA).

Factor analysis (FA).

Discriminant function analysis.

Nonparametric Statistics

2x2 tables analysis (Chi-square, Yates Chi-square, Exact Fisher Test, etc.).

Rank and percentile.

Chi-square test.

Rank correlations (Kendall Tau, Spearman R, Gamma, Fechner).

Comparing independent samples Mann-Whitney U Test, Kolmogorov-Smirnov test, Wald-Wolfowitz Runs Test, Rosenbaum Criterion. Kruskal-Wallis ANOVA and Median test.

Comparing dependent samples Wilcoxon Matched Pairs Test, Sign Test, Friedman ANOVA, Kendall's W (coefficient of concordance).

Cochran's Q Test.

Regression Analysis

Multivariate linear regression (residuals analysis, collinearity diagnostics, confidence and prediction bands).

Weighted least squares (WLS) regression.

Logistic regression.

Stepwise (forward and backward) regression.

Polynomial regression.

Curve fitting.

Tests for heteroscedasticity: Breusch–Pagan test (BPG), Harvey test, Glejser test, Engle's ARCH test (Lagrange multiplier) and White test.

Time Series Analysis

Data processing.

Fourier analysis.

Smoothing.

Moving average.

Analysis.

Autocorrelation (ACF and PACF).

Interrupted time series analysis.

Unit root tests - Dickey–Fuller, Augmented Dickey–Fuller (ADF test), Phillips–Perron (PP test), Kwiatkowski–Phillips–Schmidt–Shin (KPSS test).

Survival Analysis

Life tables.

Kaplan-Meier (log rank test, hazard ratios).

Cox proportional-hazards regression.

Probit-analysis (Finney and LPM). LD values (LD50/ED50 and others), cumulative coefficient calculation.

Receiver operating characteristic curves analysis (ROC analysis). AUC methods - DeLong's, Hanley and McNeil's. Report includes: AUC (with confidence intervals), curve coordinates, performance indicators - sensitivity and specificity (with confidence intervals), accuracy, positive and negative predictive values, Youden's J (Youden's index), Precision-Recall plot.

Comparing ROC curves.

Data Processing

Sampling (random, periodic, conditional).

Random numbers generation.

Standardization.

Stack/unstack operations.

Matrix operations.

Statistical Charts

Histogram

Scatterplot.

Box plot.

Stem-and-leaf plot.

Bland-Altman plot.

Bland-Altman plot with multiple measurements per subject.

Quantile-quantile Q-Q plots for different distributions.

Control charts - X-bar, R-chart, S-chart, IMR-chart, P-chart, C-chart, U-chart, CUSUM-chart.

Home → End User Setup → Configuring Excel → Opening Palisade Software Automatically Whenever Excel Opens

Disponible en español:Apertura Del Software Palisade Automáticamente Cada vez que Inicia Excel Disponível em português:Abrindo Software da Palisade junto com Excel

Applies to: @RISK 5.x–8.x Evolver 5.x–8.x NeuralTools 5.x–8.x PrecisionTree 5.x–8.x RISKOptimizer 5.x only (For 6.x and newer, set @RISK to run automatically, not RISKOptimizer.) StatTools 5.x–8.x TopRank 5.x–8.x

There is never a requirement to add our add-ins or toolbars to Excel manually. Ordinarily, you open our software via a desktop shortcut if available, or through the start menu (All Programs or Programs and then Palisade DecisionTools). This can be done when Excel is already running, or when Excel is not running. If Excel is not running, our software will launch Excel automatically.

But some users prefer to double-click on workbooks (.XLS, .XLSX, .XLSM, etc.) to open Excel. In this case you must then start StatTools, @RISK, or our other software tools as a separate step. This article explains how to make any of our software tools open automatically, every time Excel opens. It's also possible to give this treatment to just one Excel workbook, if the workbook has macros enabled; see Setting References in Visual Basic.

Caution: If you plan on opening multiple instances of Excel, please do not configure our software to open automatically. Palisade software is not designed to run simultaneously in multiple instances of Excel, and you will get a message such as 'Object initialized twice.' (It's perfectly okay to have single instances of different Palisade applications running in the same instance of Excel, as long as they all have the same release number. It's also okay to open multiple workbooks, as opposed to multiple instances of Excel; see Using Excel During Simulation or Optimization for the difference.)

Caution: A 5.x release, a 6.x release, 7.x release, and an 8.x release can coexist on the same computer, but they must not run at the same time. If you have one version starting automatically, don't run a different version until you first remove the first version from automatic startup.

For starting @RISK (Evolver, PrecisionTree, ..) automatically with Excel, please select your release below.

https://loadsex178.tumblr.com/post/665371126519693312/free-lagu-coldplay-the-scientist. With releases 6.1–6.3, 7.x, and 8.x:

Launch the tool that you want to run automatically with Excel.

In Excel 2010, 2013, or 2016, click File » Options » Add-Ins, then at the bottom of the page select 'Manage Excel Add-Ins' and click Go. In Excel 2007, click the round Office button, then Excel Options, then Add-Ins, then at the bottom of the page select 'Manage Excel Add-Ins' and click Go. In Excel 2003, with Palisade releases 6.x, click Tools » Add-Ins. (Excel 2003 is not compatible with Palisade releases 7.0 and newer.)

You will see your currently running Palisade add-ins listed, along with any others that you have run previously. Put check mark(s) on the one(s) that you want to open automatically. Caution: Don't click the Browse button and go searching for add-ins; only the ones listed here are candidates. Exception: In 6.x/7.x/8.x, RISKOptimizer is part of @RISK. If you want RISKOptimizer to start every time Excel starts, tick the box for @RISK, not RISKOptimizer.

Mac Excel Free

From now on, when Excel opens, the desired Palisade tool will open automatically with it. This applies when you double-click an Excel workbook or start Excel via a program shortcut.

Mac Excel Download

If you change your mind later, go back to the Add-Ins list and uncheck the ones that you no longer want to load automatically. You will still be able to load them through the desktop icon or through the Windows Start button.

With release 6.0:

The above procedure will work for Evolver 6.0, NeuralTools 6.0, PrecisionTree 6.0, StatTools 6.0, and TopRank 6.0. However, it is not recommended for @RISK 6.0. @RISK 6.0 had a problem: If the @RISK or RISKOptimizer add-in is checked as described above, @RISK may crash at the end of a simulation that uses multiple CPUs. @RISK releases 6.1.1 and later do not have the problem.

With releases 5.5.1–5.7.1:

Launch the tool that you want to run automatically with Excel.

In Excel 2010 (no newer Excels), click File » Options » Add-Ins, then at the bottom of the page select 'Manage Excel Add-Ins' and click Go. In Excel 2007, click the round Office button, then Excel Options, then Add-Ins, then at the bottom of the page select 'Manage Excel Add-Ins' and click Go. In Excel 2003 or below, click Tools » Add-Ins. Honi anhoni old doordarshan serial.

From now on, when Excel opens, the desired Palisade tool will open automatically with it. This applies when you double-click an Excel workbook or start Excel via a program shortcut.

Mac Excel Trial

Stattools For Mac Excel 2017

Palisade Stattools

With release 5.0 or 5.5.0:

Open just Excel (not @RISK).

In Excel 2007, click the round Office button, then Excel Options, then Add-Ins, then at the bottom of the page select 'Manage Excel Add-Ins' and click Go. In Excel 2003 or below, click Tools » Add-Ins.

On the Add-Ins dialog, click Browse.

In the window that opens, navigate to your @RISK installation folder. The most likely location is C:Program FilesPalisade or C:Program Files (x86)Palisade, but it's possible that the Palisade software is installed elsewhere.

Select the subfolder and double-click the add-in indicated in the table:

To open this software automatically with ExcelSelect this folderDouble-click this file*And the add-ins list will showEvolver 5.0 or 5.5Evolver5Evolver.xlaEvolver for Excel 5.0 or Evolver 5.5NeuralTools 5.0 or 5.5NeuralTools5NeuralTools.xlaNeuralTools Add-In for Microsoft Excel or NeuralTools 5.5PrecisionTree 5.0 or 5.5PrecisionTree5PTree.xlaPrecisionTree 2.0 or 5.5@RISK 5.0 or 5.5RISK5Risk.xla@RISK for Excel 5.0 or 5.5RISKOptimizer 5.0 or 5.5RISKOptimizer5RISKOpt.xlaEvolver for Excel 5.0 or RISKOptimizer 5.5StatTools 5.0 or 5.5StatTools5StatTools.xlaStatTools for Microsoft Excel or StatTools 5.5TopRank 5.0 or 5.5TopRank5TopRank.xlaToprank or TopRank 5.5*If you don't see the '.xla' file extension, choose the file with this name, right-click it, and select Properties. Verify that the type is Microsoft Office Excel Add-In, cancel the Properties dialog, and double-click the file.

You are now back in the Add-Ins dialog, with a new entry checked, as shown in the last column of the table.

If you wish, you can browse to additional Palisade add-ins to make multiple tools open automatically with Excel. (RISKOptimizer includes Evolver, so you can't open both of them automatically with Excel.) But add only the tools that you really do use almost every time you open Excel; otherwise you will just make Excel open slower for no good purpose.

Click OK, then close Excel (File » Exit).

From now on, when Excel opens the desired Palisade tool will open automatically with it. This applies when you double-click an Excel workbook or start Excel via a program shortcut.

If you change your mind later, go back to the Add-Ins list and uncheck the add-in that you browsed to.

Mac Excel Commands

Stattools For Mac Excel

last edited: 2020-03-20

0 notes

fleckcmscott · 4 years

Text

Watch What Happens - Chapter 6

Chapter links: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Chapter warning: None

Words: 3,241

Y/N tried to avoid looking at her watch as she sat across from Matt, on the other side of his desk, taking dictation in shorthand. The last time she checked, probably five minutes ago, it was only 11:12 AM. Even as she wrote, catching every detail, her mind was willing the clock to go faster. She'd be meeting Arthur in under two hours. Her lips curved upwards at the thought of him.

Shortly after leaving him at the Newkirk station in Otisburg, after they'd gotten donuts, she'd realized the mistake she'd made in not getting his number. While it was true she'd continue to work in his area, she knew the chance she'd run into him a third time had been slim. Sure, he'd told her he lived on Anderson, wherever the hell that was, but that was it. She supposed she could have looked for his name on the buzzers of all the buildings on that street, if she was inclined to be a creep about it.

While she’d dated casually, it had been a long time since she'd experienced any sort of infatuation. She simply hadn't had time for it. In the seven or so years before she'd come to Gotham, she'd done legal work part-time and shared a house with her father, who'd been wasting away with dementia.

That had been the hardest period of her life, more difficult than her marriage amicably falling apart years prior. Her sister hadn’t been able to help much - she had a family of her own. And her mother had passed away shortly after her father’s diagnosis. It had been all on Y/N’s shoulders.

When she hadn't been at work, she'd been stuck in the daily grind of keeping her father calm, clean, and fed. It was never easy. The lack of time for herself had taken a toll on her. There were days when all she'd wanted was to be alone, but what she'd be left with was the same chores as always, and guilt for wishing it would end. When he died, she sold or donated most of her stuff and left.

Since moving, she appreciated not having anyone depend on her. Not having to answer to someone. Being on her own. Arthur had thrown a wrench into that. The feelings he’d stirred in her were unexpected. And lovely. But asking for his number then would have been leading them both on. She hadn't decided if she wanted him to pursue her - yet.

But if fate was going to throw an awkwardly charming, handsome guy at her three times, she wasn't going to argue.

The reason she'd been on that night's late train was the broken roller feed of the office photocopier. Multiple copies of motions that were over fifty pages long had to be made manually. She'd removed the high-heels from her aching feet and copied each page one by one. It had kept her aggravatingly late.

The laughter had gotten her attention, first. She'd assumed someone was having too good of a time. But when she'd seen him there, the clown with his hand over his mouth, it became obvious he was in pain. Once she saw the assholes in suits advancing on him, not helping hadn't been an option.

She'd been relieved to see Arthur again, but the circumstances made it bittersweet. The situation, the laminated card, his condition. It had clicked for her why he was shy and reserved. As soon as he'd taken off that damned wig, she'd known she would give him her business card.

"Y/N?" Matt's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Are you with me?"

She blinked. "Yeah, sorry.” Her knuckles popped as she stretched her fingers. “This letter is going on a little too long. My hand's starting to cramp.”

He leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms. "Yeah, you're right. We'll come back to it later." Spinning around, he grabbed the oversize mug of coffee sitting on the bookshelf behind him. "You look at that Wayne file yet? Sorry we didn't get to it earlier in the week."

"I've actually been trying to figure out how to talk with you about it," she said, furrowing her brow.

"Well, that's an odd thing to say."

She tapped her pen against her legal pad. "I've looked at the file extensively. Mostly, it's motions back and forth for continuances, eminent domain filings, petty bickering...” Her lips twisted in a grimace. “But there wasn't evidence of anything being claimed by either party."

"Evidence?" he asked. "The buildings are deathtraps."

"Only if you read the Wayne Foundation's motions,” she countered. "I went to one of them on Saturday, and-"

Matt put his arms on his desk and leaned forward. "You what?"

Rolling her eyes, she waved his concern off. "No one saw me. Just an old lady getting her paper. It doesn't matter." She watched as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm not an architect or engineer, but those buildings aren't in the shape the foundation is claiming.

"They’ve also said the buildings are almost empty, but a lot of people still live in the one I visited." She wiggled her foot under the desk before continuing. Matt wouldn’t have a heart attack, right? "They're getting letters telling them they have to leave within ninety days or forfeit their belongings."

He tapped his hand on the desk, looking vacantly at the surface. "Do you have any of these letters?"

Hurriedly, she went to her desk to grab the file. "The woman who saw me gave me this,” she said over her shoulder. “Don't worry. She doesn't know where I work." She dug out the envelope and came back, handing it over.

Glancing at her, he took out the letter. His face remained calm as he read it. "It's not from any Wayne organization," he said. "They all have 'Wayne' in the name. I've never heard of Renew Corp."

"I know, but wouldn't this be a weird coincidence?" she asked.

After a minute or so, he stuffed the document back in the envelope. "You don't know what Renew Corp. is doing. You have one letter from one person."

Slight exasperation entered her voice. "And the fact the buildings aren't as described? I've been going to City Hall on my lunch breaks the last two days to look up code violations. Only one address had them, and that was seven years ago."

Matt nodded, wringing his hands lightly. His voice was low when he eventually spoke. "I need you to stop this inquiry."

She was stunned. "I beg your pardon? Have we met?"

"I'm serious, Y/N." He tossed the envelope in the garbage can under his desk, then looked at her. Despite what he was saying, his eyes were friendly. "We have a duty to our client. That's the Wayne Foundation, not these tenants. We can't go sniffing around on their behalf."

Heat filled her as she clenched her jaw. Disappointing didn't begin to cover how this conversation was turning out. "That wasn't what I was doing," she said, measuring her words. "I was trying to back up the foundation's claims. What do you want me to do? Provide photos of peeling paint and linoleum?"

He gestured dismissively. "You don't need to worry about that. The foundation's big enough. It'll get the land. The whole thing just needs to work its way through the courts."

Y/N flinched. "Why did you put me on this case? To do more paperwork? Why did you want me to go through it?"

"For context. You're good at your job. And, yes, it's paperwork, but it's important." He huffed. "The Wayne Foundation wants to open a medical clinic in that area. It needs to go smoothly. With all the cuts going on right now, unemployment... Think of the jobs it'll provide. The services it'll offer."

She shook her head, not answering. This was beginning to feel like the old boys network in her dinky little hometown.

After some time, Matt stood. "Let's take a break."

Taking the hint, Y/N left his office, closing the door behind her. This was the first time she'd been told to let an investigation go. She knew the Wayne Foundation was their biggest client. But it frustrated her that her firm was willing to look past what she'd found. She had enough experience in the field to witness questionable legal actions. None of them had threatened hundreds of people before.

"Hey," Patricia said from behind her desk, drawing Y/N's attention. "I heard what he said. Don't listen to him. Keep doing what you're doing.”

Y/N arched a brow at her. "I wasn't planning to stop."

“Good. He doesn't have to know." Patricia chuckled. "Well, until he does."

“I’ll remember your wise words when I’m in the unemployment line,” Y/N teased.

Patricia snorted, then folded her arms over her chest. "Now, tell me more about this date you're going on."

"I don't know if it's a date. I think it's a date." Laughing, Y/N shrugged. "I wouldn't mind it being a date." She considered her next words carefully, wanting to protect Arthur's privacy. "Like I said yesterday, I helped an acquaintance on the subway with his bags.” Y/N raised a finger when she saw Patricia’s mouth open. “And yes, before you ask, he’s good-looking. But too skinny for you, I think.” She sat on the corner of Patricia’s desk. “Anyhow, he invited me to pie to thank me. Should I bring you back a slice?"

"Don't worry about me. Just don't forget to come back." Patricia gave her a wink. “Promise?"

Y/N nodded back sharply. "Promise."

~~~~~

Before going outside, Y/N observed Arthur through the lobby windows. He was pacing between the building and the lamp post on the other side of the sidewalk. The expression on his face alternated between excitement and worry. And he was smoking like a man on his way to the gallows. It was sweet, but she wanted he'd be able to relax around her.

Letting her eyes rove over him, she saw he was wearing another loose sweater, gray this time, usual collared shirt peeking out at the top. That tan jacket. Admittedly, she was hoping he'd wear something that accentuated his narrow waist, the way his vest had on the subway. She knew she shouldn't have noticed it, given what had happened. But as they'd strolled down the street together, she hadn’t been able to help herself.

Arthur straightened and flicked away his cigarette when she stepped out, his face lighting up. "Hey." His gaze held hers. "How are you?"

"This morning was trying, but," she grinned, "the day’s much better now." The smile he wore in response was the widest she'd seen on him so far. Still bashful, but enough for her to notice his dimples and one crooked tooth. Get a grip, Y/N. She swallowed hard and pointed him to where they were headed. "There's a diner around the next corner. I've never had their pie, but I'm sure it's good."

They arrived within minutes. Arthur picked a booth for two in the corner next to a window. After removing his jacket and tossing it on the seat, he reached out to help Y/N out of her coat. And she let him.

A waitress came over immediately. "What'll you two be having?"

"Blueberry pie, please," Y/N said.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Just coffee."

When the server was out of sight, Y/N leaned forward. "How are you inviting me for pie and not ordering any?" She swatted his forearm playfully.

He moved his hands to his lap. "Sorry. I'm not usually hungry."

"You'll just have to try mine," she said. The left corner of his mouth lifted at that and he gave a slight nod.

She studied him, the small scar above his upper lip, the laugh lines on his face, the way the sunlight brought out the various tones of his chestnut locks. It was hard not to notice how stiffly he was sitting. He wanted to be there - she could see that in the way his green eyes admired her. But his body still radiated apprehension. How on earth could she ease his mind? Maybe being straightforward would be best. "Don't be anxious around me, Arthur. I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be."

His shoulders loosened a little. "I don't mean to-" He stopped abruptly when the coffee and slice of pie were delivered. Grabbing the sugar dispenser, he put three servings into his mug, concentrating on his stirring. "I'm glad you came."

It was a small sentence, but Y/N sensed the effort if had taken for him to speak it. How much work had it taken for him to ask her out yesterday? She cut a piece of her pie. "So, I know you like sweets. You're a stand-up. And you work as a clown, I guess?" After tasting it, she offered the fork to Arthur.

There was only a moment’s hesitation before he smirked and took it from her. She wondered if his fingers skimming against hers were intentional. "That's my job. I'm a party clown. But I'm thinking of focusing on my comedy more." He took a bite. "This is good."

"It’s my favorite," she said. "You should tell me a joke. I’d love to hear one."

"All right." His forehead creased in concentration. "Um. Why did the old man like having insomnia?"

Y/N chewed thoughtfully, wondering where this was going. "Hm. I don't know. Why?"

"Because he didn't have to sleep with his wife." Arthur's eyes flicked to hers, his eyebrows raised slightly.

A short, sharp laugh escaped her. The joke hadn't disappointed. And his sudden boldness surprised her. She wanted to see more of it. "That was a good one, Mr. Fleck."

His face softened at that. After a moment, he asked, "What's your job?"

"I'm a paralegal." When she tried to offer the fork to him again, he politely declined.

"What's that?" he asked.

Good. If he didn't know what her job was, he'd probably not been in any legal trouble. "I work at a law firm. Prepare for hearings and trials. Do lots of paperwork. I investigate, too, though I think it annoys my boss." A small snort escaped her. "I go to meetings. It's all very mundane."

Arthur placed another cigarette between his lips. "I don't think I could ever do a desk job."

"It's not for everyone," she said, waving his comment off. "And I work too much. But I love it." She grabbed a napkin from the nearby dispenser and wiped her mouth. "Do you have any hobbies? Besides comedy, I mean."

After lighting up and taking a deep breath, he rubbed the back of his neck. "When I'm not working, I mostly take care of - of my mother,” he said gently.

A tightness entered her chest. "I'm sorry she’s not well."

"She's been sick a long time." He rested his face on his hand. "Her disability isn't enough to cover the rent and everything, so I live with her." His fingers tapped his cheek. "It's easier that way. And with my condition..."

Unsure how to continue, or even if she should, Y/N folded her hands together on the table. "You don't owe me an explanation. I didn't mean to pry."

"No, I don’t mind." He shook his head. "It’s just- I don't talk to people a lot. Outside of work."

She tapped her foot against his under the table. "You're fine," she said. He huffed and ran a hand over his hair, toothy grin spreading across his face. Her heart quickened at that. She lowered her voice, leaning closer. "May I ask you about what was on your card? Your condition?"

“What about it?” he asked softly.

“How long have you had it?”

Arthur straightened, taking a drag off his cigarette. The smoke curled around his face as he frowned at the table. “As long as I can remember.”

She bit her lip. “Is there anyway to help?”

“Changing positions. Breathing exercises. Distraction. They don’t always.” Closing his eyes, he let out a sad chuckle. “It happens at the worst times.”

“Like on the train?”

He pushed his mug away as he signed. “Like on the train.”

Y/N felt like an ass, a well-meaning jerk. She’d been too flippant the other night when she’d told him, simply, that his laughter was “fine.” Sitting here with him, it was obvious his condition caused him distress. And now her genuine attempt at getting to know him had made him uncomfortable. The light mood when he’d picked her up had been replaced with unease. She reached out to touch the back of his left hand as it rested on the table.

His eyes shot to hers; she could hear his sharp intake of breath.

“It’s all right,” she intoned. Smiling, she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. It doesn’t bother me.”

A sad, hiccuped laugh left his throat. His thumb caressed the web between her thumb and forefinger. “Sometimes I think I imagined you. That you can’t be real.”

Y/N snickered at that. “Haven’t my questions annoyed you enough to know I’m here?”

He stamped out his cigarette in the table’s built-in ashtray, then got up. “That isn’t the word I’d use.”

After she stood, he helped her with her coat. “What word would you use?” she asked.

The sidelong glance he gave her made her blush profusely.

“Do you have to go back to work already?” The disappointment on his face was plain to see. He pulled out his wallet and placed a few dollar bills on the table.

“No, I have some extra time. Help me walk off the pie,” she said.

He grinned, clearly happy to oblige.

~~~~~

When Y/N returned to work, she leaned back on the lobby door and giggled. Dammit. She needed to pull herself together before going back to her office. Taking the stairs to the third floor would be best.

She’d enjoyed the date (it had definitely been a date) with Arthur even more than expected. After she’d expressly told him his condition wasn’t a black mark, he’d opened up. She liked hearing him speak, wondering what else was hiding under that timidity of his. He’d even tried to crack a couple more jokes. They’d been corny, not particularly funny, and she’d groaned instead of laughed. He’d looked confused at first, but he seemed to understand she was delighted.

He’d pointed out a few of his favorite spots in the district, places she wouldn’t have ever found on her own. A comedy club here, a consignment shop there. Music had come up. Surprisingly, he’d said outright that he was a good dancer. Dancing was a mystery to her. She couldn’t even clap in time. But it helped explained the grace he sometimes displayed.

At the end, when he’d accompanied her back to her firm’s building, he’d looked at her like he wanted to kiss her. He’d either been too shy or respectful to do it, and simply nodded his goodbye. Either way, that was what sealed it for her. She didn’t repeat the mistake of letting him go without getting his address and phone number.

It had been a long time since she wanted to really know someone, to lighten their day and have their presence brighten hers. It felt a little alarming - but mostly wonderful.

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