Compilation of. Something

Louis and the Aquaria: Chapter 4

Three days after the angelfish had fallen ill. In total, it was now 11 days since the fish had arrived at the mansion.

Despite Louis’s devoted care, ‘William’s’ condition had not improved.

Its fins, once proudly raised upright, were now drooping. The shine of its scales had faded away, and even the way it swam looked quivery and uncertain. During mealtimes, it left virtually all of its food uneaten. In short, ever since its poor health had been discovered, its condition had steadily worsened.

An angelfish, drifting through the water alone.

Louis was watching over it from a chair.

He could do nothing, and chafed at his own powerlessness. On top of that, the cause of its illness might’ve been his own thoughtless actions — it felt downright unbearable.

Incidentally, the South American trees that were brought in the other day had now been moved to the end of the hall. It was a reasonable measure: after all, there was a fear that the change in environment might have affected the fish. Now, one would think the area would’ve simply returned to its former state — but after the trees that had exuded such a strange presence were moved away, the space around the tank now looked somewhat empty.

Only the mechanical noises of the aquarium equipment could be heard echoing through the hall. Then, the hall door inched open, and there stood Fred.

Seated before the aquarium, Louis hadn’t even turned to look at the newcomer to the room. Instead, he watched the angelfish in earnest silence.

Fred walked up to him quietly.

“Are you alright?”

“If you’re talking about the angelfish, then unfortunately, its condition isn’t good. But although my attention has been taken up by the care of this one, by no means have I neglected the others. You can be assured of that.”

“…………”

Fred had actually been asking after Louis’s own health; but from that determined reply, he could sense that Louis had intentionally avoided the topic, and so he didn’t press further.

Looking over the surrounding tanks, he could see that the other fish were swimming energetically. Just as Louis had said, it seemed he had avoided falling into the trap of letting one fish impede the management of the entire endeavour.

For several minutes, an uncomfortable silence pervaded the space between them.

From the side, Fred looked at Louis and ‘William’ in turn. As the careworn man gazed at the sickly fish, his face exuded exhaustion in waves.

Ever since he’d begun nursing the fish, Louis had been in constant attendance by its tank. After preparing everyone’s meals, he would shut himself in this room to watch over it alone. Occasionally, out of concern, the others would come in to check on him — but Louis stubbornly refused to leave.

When was the last time he’d gone back to his room? ——There wasn’t any bed prepared here, and from the state of his complexion, it was painfully obvious that he hadn’t gotten enough sleep.

Fred dithered on about it. But eventually, he made up his mind, and asked Louis a question.

“Mr Louis. I understand how you feel, but you should still get some rest. If your body breaks down, everything will have been in vain.”

“I believe I told you everything’s fine.”

In contrast to his usual manner, the voice that struck Fred had been exceedingly cold.

It was clear that Louis did not want him to probe any further.

Fred nearly withered after hearing that — but no matter what he did, he couldn’t suppress the burgeoning question within him.

“——Why are you doing so much for just one fish? Didn’t you say it before: that they are just a means to carry out the plan?”

“…………”

Thinking back to his own words, he knew Fred was spot on. But he twisted his lips and looked down, as if he found it difficult to respond. In his lap, his hands were balled into tight fists — perhaps, that question had stirred up a conflict within him.

In the past, Louis and Fred had fallen out in the middle of a mission.

At the time, their task had been to punish the nobles who’d abducted children from the slums and forced them into cruel manhunts. During the operation, they’d been split on whether to help a child whose injured leg had rendered him immobile.

Fred had insisted on helping him, but Louis proposed leaving the child behind, as their objective to murder the noblemen came first. Although Fred knew that he’d said it out of concern for his brother, who was also on the same mission, he still found Louis’s decision rather callous.

In the end, Moran — who was like an older brother to them — stepped in and defused the situation. However, the fact remained that Fred and Louis had nearly clashed over their differences in opinion.

——Louis James Moriarty, was a man who could become as ruthless as necessary for his brother’s sake.

It was a fact that those who worked with the “Lord of Crime” knew all too well.

However, it was precisely because Fred understood his personality, that he was baffled as to why Louis would go so far to devote himself to a mere tropical fish.

It was but one fish out of three. And even if all the angelfish were to die, there were still tens of other species in the aquaria. There were plenty of replacements.

Then, why——.

“Fred. You’re right.”

Still looking down, Louis spoke in a grave, yet clear voice.

“It’s a tool to help my brother get close to his target. There are no further reasons than that. If it were any ordinary fish, I wouldn’t have gotten so invested. And if my brother ordered me to kill all of them right now, I wouldn’t hesitate to do so.”

Fred nodded. But at the same time, those words chilled him to the core. He would’ve done it himself as well, if William told him to — but he couldn’t understand how Louis was able to completely close off his heart to the living things he’d so carefully raised.

“Still……”

Louis tried to continue, but his voice was trembling ever so slightly, and Fred could not hide his astonishment. The man was normally calm and collected; but now, unlike his usual self, it seemed as though quivers of agony were wringing him out from the inside.

Seated on his chair, Louis slowly looked up at the angelfish before him.

“Still, for this one alone—— even though it was done half as a joke, it was given the name ‘William’, and so I must do everything I can for it.”

His voice was filled with determination.

“It pains me to say this, but what you said was true. It’s foolish of me, but I’ve grown attached to a fish that was meant to be nothing more than a tool. Of all things, I’ve ended up projecting the image of my brother onto a fish.”

“Mr Louis……”

He’d laid bare the emotions he had been suppressing with logic, and now, Fred understood just how much he’d been suffering.

——Projecting his own brother, onto an angelfish.

Perhaps, if one didn’t know the brothers’ background, one would find this rather comical. But as someone who shared their ambitions, Fred had no intention of laughing.

Louis devoted himself to their work without batting an eye. But having been with the two brothers until now, Fred was painfully aware that that cold-heartedness was, from another perspective, directly linked to his extraordinary love for William.

In that case, it was only natural that once something was given the name of the brother he so revered, Louis would begin to see it as more than a mere tool.

It was the complete opposite of what Louis had always said and done. But Fred knew that his words were backed by conviction, and thus realised that further persuasion would be futile. In fact, he could even sympathise with that selfless devotion to the fish.

Because to Louis, William James Moriarty was a figure more precious and important than anything else.

But although he understood Louis’s feelings, that didn’t mean the problem was resolved.

“Even so, there isn’t anything else we can……”

Though it was extremely difficult to say, it was also the unassailable truth, and Louis accepted it with bitterness.

“……Indeed. There’s nothing else we can do.”

The strength of one’s feelings alone, could not hope to fight a disease that existed in reality.

It was a cruel truth, and Fred’s expression clouded over. Although he no longer had any intention of stopping Louis, just like this, a wordless silence settled between them once more.

The room was engulfed in a heavy stillness.

“——It sure feels rather gloomy in here. Louis, Fred.”

Then, the voice of that man rang out.

The two of them looked at the entrance, and saw William entering the hall with silent steps.

Looking at his younger brother seated listlessly before the aquarium, William’s voice was mingled with sorrow.

“You don’t seem to be well, Louis. Although this is something I asked you to do, it shouldn’t come at the expense of your own health.”

“Nii-san……”

Louis rose to his feet, in an attempt to explain the current situation; but all he had were useless excuses, and he fell silent.

Instead, Fred stepped forward and tried to defend him.

“N-No, Mr William. He was, trying to help the fish——”

But William raised a hand to stop him.

“Fred, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I haven’t come here to lay blame on Louis; rather, I’m here to give him something important.”

“Eh?”

That was not what he’d been expecting. Puzzled, Fred stood rooted to the spot.

Then, William took a tiny bottle of liquid and a small piece of paper from his breast pocket, then handed them both to Louis.

Needless to say, Louis was perplexed.

“Nii-san……. These are?”

“——Medicine for the fish.”

At those nonchalant words, Louis and Fred were startled. Wide-eyed, they stared at the bottle in Louis’s hand.

“From what I’ve been told, this has been prepared using a solution of malachite green as a base. [1] Adding an appropriate amount of it to the water should do the trick,” William explained simply.

“Did you arrange for this, Mr William?”

A trace of excitement crept into Fred’s expression, and William nodded leisurely.

“I’d anticipated a situation like this, so I requested Herder to develop such a remedy. But because the fish-keeping equipment was the bigger priority, it seems the medicine was completed a little late. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, Louis — these past few days must’ve been difficult for you.”

Hearing that, Fred found himself with a newfound admiration for William’s foresight, as well as Herder’s outstanding technical expertise.

With both hands, Louis clutched the tiny bottle as if it were priceless beyond compare.

“——Thank you so much, nii-san!”

In a pitch-dark situation, he’d now been given a ray of hope. Louis sank into a deep bow, and William responded with a smile full of warmth.

“Also, I have an update on our work: in five days, the fish will all be leaving the mansion.”

Slowly, Louis and Fred’s expressions grew taut.

“I managed to secure a meeting with Stapleton a few days earlier. As planned, he was lured in by the tropical fish, and invited us to his mansion in exchange for us handing them all over to him. After that meeting, I believe I’ll be able to judge if he’s indeed engaged in nefarious acts.”

“Understood,” Louis replied.

“I’ll report back once I obtain the results. Well then, I wish you all the best.”

With those parting words, William left the hall with a dignified air. Louis and Fred thanked him once again, then looked at one another.

Fred smiled. “The fish will surely get better once you use this,” he said.

But in contrast, Louis’s manner was exceedingly calm.

“I wouldn’t be optimistic,” he cautioned. “Since the drug was only just developed, there may be concerns about its quality, and we don’t know for sure if it’ll be effective in treating this particular disease.”

But Fred simply narrowed his eyes, and stared at Louis’s face.

“……What’s the matter?”

Fred pushed the corners of his own mouth up with his fingers.

“You’re smiling.”

“Wha……!”

In an instant, Louis hid his mouth with a hand. No matter how he tried to look unruffled, it seemed he was unable to conceal the sheer delight brimming within him.

“A-Anyway! Since this is something William nii-san and Mr Herder have prepared, let’s use it right away!”

Louis said that in an especially loud voice, in a bid to hide his embarrassment; then, following the instructions on the piece of paper he’d been given, he added the liquid medicine into the tank.

“Now all we can do is hope it’ll work.”

“It’ll be fine, for sure,” Fred said brightly.

For once, Louis did not argue back.

Footnotes:

[1] Malachite green can be used as an antimicrobial in aquaculture (Wikipedia). But it is toxic and potentially carcinogenic(!!), hence it’s been banned for this purpose in many countries today.

a memory: a man with a mission

Chapter excerpt from my WIP sci-fi novel, The Timekiller. If you check it out, I’d love to hear your thoughts and feedback. The novel is divided into normal chapters, that follow the present timeline and its plot, and the memory chapters which are flashback chapters of different moments, like memories, telling key events from the past (and future).

--

December 23, 1946.

Duke’s powers manifested in a way he couldn’t quite understand. He was a man hailing from the far gone future, born amongst robots and artificial intelligences, raised in a world where the AI had rebelled against the humans and their oppression. He was a war child, for all intents and purposes, yet he never quite felt like a soldier. There was a scholarly aspect to him that made him stand out amongst his peers in the resistance and what granted him the alias The Duke, which was often shortened to just Duke; his name had only been known by his fiancé and a few friends, close friends.

He walked into a pub, in London, in an environment that was the most foreign thing he had ever seen, despite the fact he had been to London in his own time. He was shocked to realise his attempt to time travel that far in the past had worked, but he quickly gathered his wits, and stole clothes so he would fit in, and suddenly he blended wonderfully into the post-second war background world, with matte colours and broken buildings, yet with a spirit of renewal only known to those who have witnessed mayhem - and survived.

Doing justice to his scholarly spirit, Duke had done his research in the time he wanted to visit, and thus he knew vaguely how to communicate, and what to say and how to say it. How to dress, what to order for food and drinks, and how the culture worked. It was hard work, but he managed just fine, asking for a pint at the bar, while glancing around the place.

There weren’t many people there, but there were only a few tables vacant, despite the fact it was nearly christmas. Cold weather mostly sent the people in, couples, elderly men, veterans and so on; it was a workers’ pub, mostly, so not many posh people were to be seen. He kept a quiet, low profile, watching around, looking aimlessly. He had to wait until the far night to do what he had come here to do, so spending his time amongst folk was a good idea. He realised these people had good food and drinks and peace.

“Poor lass.” The barmaid told him, a tough looking woman with red hair, cleaning up the glasses in front of him. He raised his eyebrows, inquisitively. She nodded in a specific direction. “She’s been sitting there all day, sipping her lukewarm pint. That has to be the tenth moron who has been to nag her.”

Duke hummed, slightly uninterested, but the woman didn’t mind his lack of interest.

“Ah, she keeps on saying she’s waiting for someone, but I think her lad might have stood her up, oh yes.” Duke nodded, just to appease her sense of communication, drinking his beer quietly. “Do you know her?”

He lowered his glass, and turned to see in the direction the barmaid had pointed out. In the corner of the bar, a few meters away from him, there was a woman occupying a single table, holding a glass mug of beer with a dishonest disinterest. She was dressed simply, with a plain skirt and white blouse, her coat on the chair she was sitting, her hair done modestly, keep in those hair nets Duke thought were so funny.

She raised her eyes to him, and her bland expression disappeared, replaced by the smallest hint of a smile. She would have been in her thirties, maybe late twenties, or so he guessed, strong eyebrows and light-coloured eyes that glittered under the soft, warm light of the pub. Something about her was disconcerting, he felt as if the entire room was staring at her, as if she was the sole focus of a picture and the only thing worth looking at. She was pretty, but it wasn’t that that made her such a magnet of attention, it was something else. It scared him, astonished him. He locked eyes with the woman, and he blushed for no reason he could explain.

“Never seen her.” He said, truthfully. He turned away because the woman’s gaze was making him uncomfortable. Somehow he felt she knew what he was doing in that time period, but the mere idea sounded insane to him. How could she know?

“She’s been looking at you an awful lot, though.” The barmaid smiled at him, a bit wicked. “Hope you aren’t the married type.”

Zohariel watched him from her chair, intensely, her fingers fidgeting on her lap as she was focusing on expanding her presence so he would be drawn to her. Usually she did the opposite, quieting down her spirit so people’s lives wouldn’t get caught in the strength of her being, but this time she wanted him to notice her. She needed him to, otherwise he would commit the worst mistake of his life.

He looked, at last, confused and intrigued. No doubt he had a dozen questions, and no doubt she could have answered them patiently and carefully and gently, but he had a determination in his eyes that made her wary. One tiny wrong move, and the timeline would’ve gone to hell and Zohariel would be in an even bigger mess. She was intent on avoiding that. Unlike him, she knew who he was and his entire fate, but she never shared that with him, not until a long time in the future.

He resisted her presence, as much as he could. She had expected that. He was strong-willed and his abilities had a similar root to hers, no doubt her own fault. He sideeyed her from his place, wary; while her presence was strong thanks to her different frequency, she couldn’t control how people reacted to it. Some were attracted to her, some were terrified, some hated her on principle; it was a roussian roulette of psychology and emotion. Zee was beginning to feel hopeless when he finally moved towards her table, two mugs of cold beer in hand and he stood in front of her, his jacket too big for him, a clear sign those clothes didn’t belong to him.

“Do you mind?” He asked, quietly, almost shyly. It was rather unbecoming of him: she has expected him to be more forceful.

“Not at all.” She gestured with her chin to the chair across her.

Everyone at the pub watched as that strange fellow, for no apparent reason, sat down with that even stranger woman, whose attention had been craved by many, all whom she denied politely, so gently it was nearly cruel.

He slid the mug at her, pacifyingly. She let go of her empty one and closed her grip on the new one, a hint of a smirk on her lips.

“Rumour has it you have been dumping men left and right, tonight.” He said, taking a sip from his mug, his eyes locked onto hers. There was faint music playing in the background, an old tune, filled with white noise. The conversation resumed as Zee toned down her presence as much as she could.

“I enjoy the loneliness.” The corners of her mouth twitched up; he observed her carefully. She knew he was trying to figure her out; people from his time spot were terribly suspicious of anything odd.

“Yet, I’ve been told you can’t take your eyes off me.”

“You’re an odd one.” She said, jokingly, but there was enough truth in it to satisfy him. It didn’t, however.

“So are you.” He crossed his arms over the table, and she leaned in to whisper back at him.

“And together, the two of us make quite a pair in this trivial place.” She tilted her head. He hummed, the closest thing to a laughter he could give her. She leaned back on her chair, her drink in hand. “You look like a man on a mission, if you don’t mind me saying it.”

He hummed again, and his eyes lost focus and he was invaded by a sadness she was well familiar with. He wouldn’t know, of course; there was so much he didn’t know.

“You have no idea, miss.”

“Oh, I might.” She blinked slowly, but he barely reacted. He didn’t believe her, and she could scarcely blame him. Most time travelers struggled in their first months, even years; it was not the sort of thing one could easily adjust to. But Zee didn’t have time to do things subtly; Duke was about to make a very common mistake between time travelers who just discovered their powers: he thought he could change history. “Tell me, what brings you here?”

“Just passing by.”

“How vague! You sound as if you don’t want to talk, yet you’re the one who approached me.” Her amused tone sparked something in him, but by his attitude, it was probably something bad.

He looked at her, puzzled, baffled. She knew how this conversation would follow, it always happened the same way, the few times she had done it before, when she was still with the League. I don’t know why I did it, he would say, his senses betraying him, his mind being engulfed by the everlasting presence of her high frequency.

Being from another universe, Zohariel’s atoms vibrated in a frequency suited for her own universe, and her frequency was so high that in the universe she lived in, she disturbed the natural order of things. Some resisted it for longer, like Duke, but it was pointless; in the end, she could change their lives dramatically by simply existing in the same vicinity for long enough.

“I don’t know why I did it.” He said, looking around, carefully. “You were looking at me.”

“Was I?”

“Yes. A lot. Why?”

“I don’t know, I do a lot of things for no good reason.” She finished her glass and put it down with a soft noise. Her eyebrows had a crease between them, more about doubt than confusion. “You may not want to hear it, but I have some advice for you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. That which is consuming you right now, it is the sort of ailment that afflicts every one of us. You don’t believe I understand, I know, but I do." She sighed when he shook his head. "Grief is overwhelming. It feeds off our energy, our hopes, our fears. But it will pass, eventually, or at least fade to something bearable. Until then, you must persevere."

"How do you know I'm grieving?" There was a legitimate curiosity in his question.

"It's in your eyes." It was true, anyone who looked at him would have seen the pain he was in, but she knew more than just that. She knew everything and more. My responsibility, she often repeated to herself, my fault. Everything he was and would be and do was on her head and she wanted to make sure he didn't do anything stupid. "All over your face. You could use a shave, no offense. I like the beard, but these folks… They're on a different time."

"More free advice? Who would have thought?" He mocked, but there was very little malice in his attitude. He thought of her as odd, quirky. A weird woman in a weird time spot.

"What can I say, I appreciate being helpful and advice from me is a common item to spread around." She raised her eyebrows, amused. "I hope you will heed my words."

"I don't believe you told me your name."

She smiled, sweet and mischievous.

"While my advice is free of charge, my name is a luxury item, in this silly metaphor." She tapped at his hand, gently, and he pulled away as if she had given him a shock. He checked his watch and she observed, quietly, hopeless, intrigued. He brushed his thighs before he stood up, and Zohariel thought he looked exhausted.

He must be, she thought, he probably has no idea how to properly time travel.

The first mistake of a rookie was to go back or forth in time without mastering their powers, which could also be translated to, without knowing how to go back to their time spot. They'd get stuck, and create anachronisms which would then trigger the League. If they did little damage and were untrained and not dangerous, the League would do nothing more than fix the issues, and give them a reprimand and invite them in - very few people refused an invitation like that. However, as Zohariel knew because she had used the League's rating system, Duke was to be considered a red alert threat; he was an anachronist who would stop at nearly nothing to achieve his goal and neither would the League. Worst fate was to have his memories deleted and have him do mild paperwork, while keeping him on his own time spot. It was cruel, in Zee's opinion; worse even than just erasing his existence entirely.

"I appreciate your kindness, but you don't really understand." He nodded before walking out of the pub. Zee watched, almost as if that was a film.

She knew where he was going and she knew she had to stop him before the League did.

We Do This To Live Ch. 7

Chapter Seven

Summary: On Earth-198742, there are no heroes. There’s humans. There’s mutants. There are even some that fall somewhere between. But when Boliver Trask manages to get the Sentinel program signed, it’s up to a thief and her brilliant sister to find those that still believe in something more - something good. And maybe, along the way, they’ll get the chance to save mutant kind.

Word Count: 2639 words

Warnings: Blood, treating mutant like an animal, human testing, emotional shit - that sorta thing?

Masterlist to OCs - Masterlist to Other Works - Marvel Kiddos 

Previous Chapter

-

Blood. Everywhere. That was all she could see. Slowly, her body moved. Twisting and cracking with joints that screamed, begging her to stop. She tasted iron on her tongue. No doubt, there was more blood.

She turned, catching sight of bodies that weren’t her own. “Mama?” She crawled closer, legs unable to provide the strength to walk. Streaks of auburn and white were enough to prove her fears right.

There was her mom. Bloody and cold.

A sob racked her shoulders, caught in her throat. All she wanted was to scream. What happened? How?

“Mama,” she croaked. “Wake up. Sil vous plait, wake up!”

Wake up.

She jerked, spine bending in an awkward sort of way.

Wake up.

Another jolt forced her body, twisting it away from her mother. Her spine felt like it was on fire. There was more iron. More blood.

Wake up!

Geneva’s body spasmed, eyes forced open. Blinding light made her try to close them again, but to no avail. Fingers prodded her eyelids, forcing them open as a light flashed across her pupils.

She couldn’t move. Her head felt stiff. Something kept her neck in place.

“I wouldn’t move too much, Miss Lebeau.”

That familiar voice filled her ears, echoing. Bouncing around in her head and making it hard to recall anything else. But as his words rattled around in her skull, the familiar pinch against her neck reminded her of why she couldn’t move.

The needle In her neck. The weight of metal around it. It was so heavy.

Her eyes flitted to his, nostrils flaring and gaze steely. Though he was still a blur – she didn’t care.

Boliver Trask’s face was seared into her brain forever.

He chuckled, amazed by her resilience. “There you are. Finally joined the living I see.”

She wanted to say something. Wanted to snap, growl, and remind him that she was strong, damn it. She was capable. But the heavy weight of metal on her tongue kept her silent.

She wanted to move. She wanted to fight and break free and show everyone that mutants are more than capable. They are determined. And yet her muscles refused to even budge.

“I wanted to tell you that your mutation has been truly remarkable. A gift for us to learn from.” He brushed her wild curls out of her face, letting them cascade over the edges of the table. “And we have been learning. Nothing has gone to waste.”

Fear struck hard, twisting in her gut and seeping into her bones. What could they have learned that she didn’t know?

What did his pokes and prodding uncover?

“Enough of that.” He grabbed a cloth from the nearby tray, wiping at the corners of her eyes. “There’s no need for tears.”

That scared her all the more. She didn’t realize - When did she start crying?

“It’s taken much longer than we anticipated to even scratch the surface of what mutations mean. You having volunteered…“

Volunteer. That was bullshit. They both knew that.

“Well, it provided us with the ability to discover. Homo sapiens owe you a great deal of gratitude.”

Geneva wanted to fry him. She wanted to see his veins turn black from her powers. She wanted to watch as his eardrums burst and eyes popped. She wanted him to suffer.

“Oh, now stop that.” He swatted at her hands, prying her curled fingers out of her palm and wiping away the blood. Crescent shaped marks would heal eventually. “You have our thanks. Now, we are going to move you and get you set up in a new room. It will be different. If you promise to behave, I’ll remove the bit from your mouth. I just can’t have a repeat of what happened with Doctor Rice.”

If she could have, Geneva would have smirked. She remembered that man. Creepy face. Creepy smile. Satisfied – no, pleasured – by seeing mutants in pain. She remembered how good it felt to almost bite off his thumb. Bone was the only thing that had gotten in her way.

He shouldn’t have forced his digits in her mouth anyway.

But she was tired. So tired of the bit. Of the collar. Of the restraints and the needles.

Maybe it was time to rest.

Boliver tilted his head, watching her curiously. Just by the look in her eyes, he could tell she was trying to figure out her choices. “Will you cooperate this time? Blink twice for yes and once for no.”

She held his gaze for a long while, hating the idea of giving in to what he wanted. But the truth of the matter was, she didn’t even know how long she had been here. What about her parents? What about Marie?

If she played his game, maybe she would get to find out.

She blinked –

Once.

Twice.

--

Marie jerked away. Her chair rolled across the room, startled by her rough movements. She groaned softly, rubbing at her eyes and willing sleep away. What time was it?

“Glad to see you’re awake, Doll.”

She looked up. Dark strands of hair fell, hiding her face and yet still incapable of concealing her surprise. She had grown so used to being along down here, really only visited by Shuri, that seeing someone else in the room seemed…almost wrong. Marie had only been around Bucky a handful of times. The last time they spoke was maybe a week ago. Probably more. She wasn’t like Shuri. She was too quiet. Not vocal enough to make a friend.

Besides, she didn’t have time for those.

“What are y’doin’ in here?” Her voice was quiet, confused. Marie didn’t mean to sound accusatory, but it almost angered her to see someone invading her space. Making a joke of her mission. “Didn’t Shuri say I ’ave privacy?”

Bucky didn’t bother to hide his smile. He had heard quite a bit about the Cajun in front of him. Though she seemed determined to push away any and everyone, Shuri had spoken highly of her brains and sheer will. The stories – it reminded him of Bruce. Steve a little too. But the longer he had gone with only ever seeing her in this room…it worried him.

She was young.

The weight of the world was on her shoulders and she refused to share it with anyone. Even though she didn’t have to bear it alone.

“C’mon. I want to get you out of here.”

Marie raised a brow. She gave him an almost bored sort of look before pulling the chair back to its place at her desk. She had no intention of listening to him.

Bucky smirked.

Oh, he was going to like getting to be her friend.

Scrolling through the articles that had her falling asleep in the first place, Marie hadn’t noticed him come up behind her. She yelped when the chair jerked, clinging to the arms as it moved swiftly across the room. “Merde!” Marie looked up, yanking her hoodie off her head and shooting Bucky a look that could kill. “Let go o’my chair!”

“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’, his Brooklyn accent a sharp contrast to her own tongue.

He was infuriating and he had been in her presence less than five minutes.

“Y’only got une arm. Could beat ya up if I wanted.”

“Now that’s just discrimination, don’t ya think?” Bucky spun the chair in front of him, pushing her out of the room.

Marie didn’t say anything. She tucked her legs into the chair and watched as rooms passed them by. She tugged at her hoodie, hiding her legs underneath the fabric. Here and there, servants would pass by and watch the scene with raised brows but no comments. Still, there judgement made her slink further in her chair. “Where are we goin’,” she asked as he pulled her onto the elevator.

“Your room. You stink and need a shower.”

“Excuze moi, mas y’don’t know me, Barnes.” Marie leapt out of the chair when the elevator doors finally closed. She spun towards him, legs a little shaky from lack of use. “Y’known moi all o’five minutes and y’tryin’ to boss m‘round?”

“Marie.”

Her outburst fell silent. She watched as he pressed the button, distrust shining bright in her eyes. She didn’t understand.

“You’re right. I don’t know you. But I know what you’re feelin’.” He leaned against the wall, surprising her when it wasn’t pity that shown in his features. No, it was sympathy. Respect. “I know that guilt. That desperation. I used to feel those things so much that it nearly killed me. I knew a lot of people that lived with those feelings day after day.”

Slowly, the floors crept by. She didn’t say anything. Simply listening.

“Shuri encouraged your stubbornness and determination. And I respect that you have such a strong will to find your cousin, but you need help. You need someone to tell you when it’s time to take a break.”

Marie crossed her arms over her chest, her chin tucked down and lip quivering. Finally, she admitted, “That used t’be Gen.”

Bucky tilted his head. “Your cousin? She used to - ?“

Marie nodded. “Gen’s everyt’in’ I’m not. She’s the one who used t’tell moi t’breathe. “Relax, everyt’in’ will work itself out.”” The smallest smile tugged at her lips as she roughly wiped away tears on her cheeks. “Her powers have her buzzin’ wit’ energy. She can never stop, but she always seems t’know when ot’er people need to.”

Bucky smiled. “She sounds like she means a lot to you.”

Marie shook her head. “Not a lot.” The bell dinged and the doors parted. She didn’t look at Bucky when she admitted, “Everyt’in’. She means everyt’in’ t’moi.”

Bucky watched her step off the elevator, following after her. He knew what it meant to have someone mean that much. Hell, for him it was Steve. And he had lost that person that meant everything.

He couldn’t let the same happen to Marie.

“What’s the plan?”

Bucky blinked, realizing she was talking to him. Her raised brow and unimpressed look could have made anyone who wasn’t on the receiving end laugh. She was a kid and yet the most intimidating person he had ever laid eyes on. “I was thinking you get a shower, change of clothes, and we get you out of here for a bit. I know how important it is to find her, but - ”

“If it were Steve, would y’walk away?”

Bucky faltered, his sentence dying on his lips.

How did she know about Steve?

Seeming to read to his mind, Marie elaborated. “I’m from a guild o’ t’ieves, Barnes. Gettin’ information is all I know how t’do.” She turned towards him fully, shifting from one leg to the other. “So if this were you and Steve…would ya take breaks? Would ya walk away for an hour or two? Hell, would he?”

Bucky was silent for a moment before he shook his head no. “Never.”

“Then don’t ask for moi t’do th’same. Y’wanna help, help. But don’t feed m’some bullshit you’d never listen to if ya were me.”

A smirk. Understanding once more. “Okay. Fair enough. But then you’re going to let me help. Alright?”

There was a moment then. One where Marie truly didn’t know if he would actually help. Then she saw the same determination in his eyes that was always in hers. “Ca va.” Then she slipped in her room, the door shutting behind her.

Bucky slumped against the wall just across, waiting. Okay. It was a step. One he could very well work with.

But damn if she wasn’t as stubborn as a familiar blonde he’d known for the better part of his life.

--

When Geneva woke again, she was no longer strapped to a table. Her neck still felt heavy, but not quite as stiff. She blinked once…twice…a third time before finally her eyes began adjusting to the harsh fluorescents.

She missed the days when she could feel their energy buzzing against her skin.

Looking away from the ceiling, her gaze settled on the bars across from her. It was a door. She could pick it easily. Really, staring at it now she found herself identifying the mechanisms, how long it would take, and what tools she would need.

It was part of her job. Part of who she was.

She moved to stand, craving the days when she could use her legs. It was then she realized that she couldn’t. Her eyes drifted to her newest confinement.

A chair. Her arms and shines were cuffed, hands and feet enclosed in something she didn’t quite understanding. It looked…old fashioned.

Medieval.

Cruel.

A small hum filled her ears. Finally, something she recognized from her powers.

She jerked, spine threatening to snap in two as a rush of energy forced her heart to skip a beat. Her head pressed against the metal headrest, jaw clenching.

They had turned her collar off.

Her veins shone through her skin, glowing a brilliant gold that no doubt matched her eyes.

It disappeared under the cuffs.

The humming grew louder, turning into a sharp whine as the lights flickered brighter.

It was then that Geneva understood that they were using her to power the building.

It hit her too hard. Too fast. Realization that she was a pawn. Her powers threatened to make her heart burst. Finally, she felt whole again with her powers. Yet what was the cost? They could use her. And not only could they, but they were. Happily. Whole heartedly. Without a care that she was still a person.

She still existed past her mutation.

After what felt like hours, her powers settled. The glow was still there, though not as bright, and Geneva’s chest was heaving with tired breath. She was so exhausted.

She should’ve said no.

Emotions hit her one after the other. Far too fast for her to be able to process. It made her ache in every sort of bitter way that she couldn’t stand. Sniffling, Geneva didn’t care that her cheeks would burn. She couldn’t bring herself to care about the blisters that would come. She let the tears fall. She needed to cry.

“Hey, you have to breathe.”

Geneva didn’t say anything. She didn’t look. It was probably a doctor or nurse making sure their test worked.

“Hey, you need to find a way to calm down. Please. I know it’s hard, but they’re far more satisfied when they see they broke you.”

Geneva sniffled, nodding stiffly. She forced herself to look. The person was male. She could tell from his voice. But his cell was dark, covered in shadows. If they hadn’t shut off her powers again, then she could see him. Her voice, rough from lack of use, sounded foreign to her own ears as she asked, “Who are you?”

He chuckled. She heard feet scrape against the floor and a small wheeze of breath. Was the guy okay? Inching closer to his cell door, scrawny hands braced against the bars. She watched him dip his head towards the light between their cells. Sandy blonde hair and kind, bright, blue eyes were the first things she noticed.

But then she recognized a bit more. Photos from a file she had stolen so many years ago.

“You’re Cap’n America.”

Another wry laugh. It seemed he hadn’t heard that name in quite some time. And judging by his lack of muscles, he no longer bore the title. He pressed his forehead against the bars. “My friends call me Steve.”

Geneva nodded. She took in his frame – no terrifying height. No never ending lines of muscle. Just…Steve. For the first time in a long time, she smiled. A friend. She could use one of those.

But she had to be honest – “I t’ought ya were bigger.”

--

Permanent Tags:

@butcherofblackwater​

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Darth Maul

Summary:

What if Maul had never killed Qui-Gon Jinn in battle, but rather fled the fight to hide in shame of his failure, fearful that Darth Sidious would kill him upon discovering his incompetence in fulfilling his mission? And what if he sought out the Jedi Order as the war reaches it climax, revealing his master's secrets and the ways of the Sith?

Darth Maul is allowed to stay at the temple, to redeem himself, to find out what kind of person he is as the war comes to an end and the galaxy tries to heal.

Obi-Wan is there to help guide the way. “Careful, stare any harder and you might injure yourself.” Maul would have jumped out of his skin at the sudden voice if he hadn’t already detected the other’s Force presence earlier, having been too absorbed by his… current observations to say anything beforehand. He was much too occupied with staring at Obi-Wan Kenobi from afar, a yearning expression on his face. He would have preferred his dedicated time to watching Kenobi not be interrupted, but he supposes that’s too much to ask. The zabrak kept his eyes glued on the short ginger, drinking in his appearance one last time before turning to his unfortunate companion. “What would you know,” he scoffed, “How about you do us both a favor and mind your own business?”

Quinlan laughed boisterously in response, clapping a hand down on his shorter companion’s shoulder. Maul stiffened uncomfortably, lips curling downwards into a frown. “What, can’t handle a bit of teasing, Maul?” The grimace that graced Maul’s face only seemed to egg the other man on, humored by his reaction. Maul sneered and pushed the Jedi’s hand off his shoulder, shoving a finger into Quinlan’s chest pointedly. “Knock it off, Vos,” He growled lowly, “Or else I’ll do it for you.” Quinlan raised his hands in mock surrender, a small grin still on his face, which only seemed to enrage Maul further. “Alright, alright, relax, I catch your drift,” Quinlan laughed, unmoved by his trivial threat. Thoroughly irritated, Maul turned his back on the fallen Jedi and rested his head in his hands, leaning against the balcony railings to continue studying the object of his affections. He examined with much intent as Obi-Wan conversed passionately with his previous padawan, Anakin, making rather dramatic hand motions every now and again. Maul was enraptured by the gentle way he’d tap Anakin’s arm, as if checking that the boy was still giving him his full attention, elegance behind each of his mannerisms. The way his ginger hair shone in the sun, an auburn glow, a rebel strand of hair falling against his face. The way Obi-Wan’s mouth would twitch upward into a smile, how his eyebrows would furrow in disagreement, and how his nose would crinkle at inappropriate comments all deeply intrigued the former Sith. So engrossed again, Maul barely noticed the tense silence that had passed between him and Quinlan. He convinced himself that, perhaps, if he simply pretended that Vos no longer existed, the man would actually disappear. But of course, Quinlan had to break the peace with more prodding comments. “Maul…” He spoke quietly, now leaning against the railing beside him, “Why don’t you just go talk to him? Believe it or not, he actually likes you. I’m sure he’d be welcome to—” Maul slapped a hand over Quinlan’s mouth, arm shaking minutely, Quinlan’s unwelcome intrusion obviously hitting a nerve. “You keep your insolent mouth shut, Vos. You have no idea what you’re fucking talking about,” Maul hissed lowly, leaning in close, murder written all over his face. Quinlan ripped his hand from his mouth, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. He gave Maul a withering look, challenging him, “Oh yeah? And just what do I not understand, Sith?” Maul growled, his anger and rage threatening to boil over in seconds. He was seething from what would otherwise be a relatively normal conversation were he anyone else. But Maul was not anyone else. Maul laughed in his face, a sharp and irritated sound. “Like me? Nobody here likes me, Vos. My existence here is merely tolerated,” He snapped, eyes burning brightly, “I came crawling to the Jedi, defeated, pathetic, accepted only because it would be against your miserable Jedi ways to do otherwise. So don’t get it twisted. Continue to try and manipulate me and fill my head with lies and I might just kill you without a drop of remorse.”The look on Quinlan’s face made Maul’s stomach twist uncomfortably. It was a look of worry, shame, pity. Maul could hardly stand it, head practically snapping as he turned his gaze anywhere but at Quinlan, feeling sick the longer he looked at him like that. He felt his insides burn with humiliation, or perhaps even anger, loathing himself and the situation he’d placed himself in. “Maul.” No response. Quinlan sighed, voice softening, “I’m not manipulating you, I’m telling you the truth. I’m sorry you’re too fucked in the head to believe me, but I wouldn’t lie to you.” Maul shuffled a step further from him, looking for a way to escape from the current conversation. “Listen, you think I don’t know? You think I don’t get it? I’m screwed up too, Maul, trying to put back together the pieces of my life and find myself again,” He continued. Feeling a spark of anger flare as Maul continued to ignore him, Quinlan snatched him by the wrist, “Would you just listen—!” Maul punched him square in the face. “GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME, VOS!” The Jedi grit his teeth, now glaring at Maul as if to incinerate him on the spot, a dribble of blood running down his freshly busted lip. “What’s your fucking problem, huh? I’m trying to help you, stop acting like a youngling,” He snarled loudly, shoving Maul roughly, the zabrak smacking into the wall. Maul grunted, “Help me?! You’re a joke, Vos.” Quinlan shouted in outrage at the jab, clenching his fist in preparation for a good swing. Quinlan began to circle Maul like a predator waiting to catch its prey, getting up close and personal in Maul’s face, the Force growing dark around the two. Neither made a move against the other, waiting to see who would strike first. Before their violent shouting match could evolve into an actual fight—both already wound up and easily capable of brutally maiming the other—Obi-Wan and Anakin stepped in, separating the two with quick efficiency, Anakin holding Quinlan back while Obi-Wan pulled Maul away gently, an easy hand firmly grasping his shoulder as he steered the Sith into the gardens.  Both master and former padawan had been engrossed in intense discourse beforehand, deliberating over how to handle the logistics of one of Obi-Wan��s upcoming missions. In a few days, he would be shipped off to a planet near the Outer Rim, Obi-Wan’s skills needed to negotiate with an estranged Separatist leader who had accepted the end of the war poorly and thus refused to settle the matter peacefully. Most of the other leaders had come around rather quickly after the war ceased, or otherwise fought against them uselessly, unable to put up much of a struggle with the droid factories now shut down and leaving them with a severe shortage of armed defenses. The Republic’s current target planet, Ku’Daiya, was known for its dangers. It was a breeding ground for criminals, underground slavery, drug rings and much more. Ku’Daiya was also known for its strong propaganda against the Jedi. Obi-Wan was dead-set on going alone, while Anakin had other ideas. He insisted his master allow him to come along, to keep him safe and assist in the politics, no matter how he loathed it, even though his services were going to be needed elsewhere during the time Obi-Wan would be gone to Ku’Daiya. They had heavily debated the topic for days. Unfortunately, they had been pulled from their discussion at the sound of Maul’s initial outburst, alarmed by the sudden and volatile behavior from one of their more mentally unstable members of the temple. Obi-Wan was quick to abandon the argument and rush over to settle the issue, growing weary in how these occurrences continued to increase in recent time.  This would be the fourth time in a month that Obi-Wan would have to remove Maul from a disagreement. And of course it had to be Quinlan Vos of all people, the fool. In recent time, the fallen Jedi had taken to trying to mentor Maul with little success, managing to trigger Maul or otherwise upset him without fail. It was like the blind leading the blind; Quinlan was almost as equally disturbed as Maul was. He was most definitely not helping Maul’s healing process. Obi-Wan sighed to himself, trying to shake away all thoughts of Quinlan. He needed to focus on the here and now, with Maul, not with Quinlan. He was sure that Anakin had the situation covered on that end. The redhead gave Maul’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze before gracefully dropping to the ground and situating himself into a meditative position, turning to look up at Maul, the Dathomirian sporting an apprehensive expression. The Jedi raised an eyebrow at him, to which Maul only huffed in response before dropping down close beside him, their knees knocking together comfortably. The zabrak had grown considerably quiet, a tell that something was wrong. “Care to tell me what happened back there?” Obi-Wan nudged carefully. Maul plucked a blade of grass in thought, but said little more. The Sith frowned, scratching at one of his horns, a nervous tic. Obi-Wan gulped uncomfortably, feeling a bit unsure. It was always difficult to wrestle Maul’s thoughts out of him, the Sith hellbent on keeping his own feelings and emotions behind careful lock and key.  “How about we meditate on it?” He tried, offering his hand to Maul with a smile on his face. Maul looked down at his open hand with minor trepidation, as if it would strike him, before gingerly taking Obi-Wan’s hand into his own. “Is that your solution to everything, Kenobi?” Maul jested. Obi-Wan snorted light-heartedly at that, briefly reminded of Anakin’s own severe hatred of the practice. It was only a matter of time until Maul also began to notice how Obi-Wan turned to meditation for practically any and all problems he encountered in life. Even now, he couldn’t escape the teasing. “No, dearheart, it’s not,” He answered, a white lie, “But it’s what you need right now, I think. Come: Breathe with me. Release your feelings into the Force.” Obi-Wan breathed in deep through his nose and closed his eyes. While the Force was usually a comforting presence to him, ebbing and flowing around him gently, he could sense the turmoil rolling off of Maul in waves, dark and heavy. It was a choking, suffocating feeling that left him uneasy. Obi-Wan gently reached out to him through their shaky, newly-forming bond, attempting to sooth the Sith Lord. He could feel Maul’s shields rising in response.  His eyes snapped open and he turned to voice his displeasure at Maul’s withdrawal, but was cut short when he noticed Qui-Gon approaching with haste. Reluctantly, the two pulled their hands away from each other, Maul’s hands now resting in his own lap. Obi-Wan looked up at his former master with minor interest. “Master Qui-Gon, how can we help you? Care to join us for our meditation?” Obi-Wan asked. Of course, he didn’t want Qui-Gon to join them currently as it stands, considering Maul’s current behavior. He figured he should remain courteous anyway. “Not today, padawan mine,” He replied, “The Council is in need of you urgently. Maul, as well.” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow in confusion and turned to Maul, who was now also looking up, attention piqued at the mention of his own name. He brushed off the ‘padawan’ comment, not caring enough to correct him. Even after all these years, Qui-Gon never seemed to drop the habit of calling him by his old rank. “What for? Has something happened?” Obi-Wan stood to his feet hurriedly, his Sith companion once again hesitant before following suit. He seemed anxious. “Does this have something to do with me? I’ve upset your precious Council,” Maul said with self-assurance, a growl leaving his throat, “Whatever it is, it has nothing to do with Kenobi. Leave him out of this.” Obi-Wan put a hand on Maul’s shoulder, rushing to speak on his behalf. Maul’s testy mood was starting to grate on him. He prayed to the Force that Qui-Gon wouldn’t be put off by his passive aggressive behavior. Luckily, Qui-Gon only smiled in response. “Dear boy, it is nothing of the sort. You jump to conclusions.” “Conclusions? Well, if it isn’t something I’ve done, why else would the Council wish to see me?” Obi-Wan’s grip tightened slightly, a warning for Maul to compose himself. The Sith’s reaction was almost instantaneous. Maul shut his mouth quickly, standing stock-still, body language so passive it seemed unnatural. Strange. Obi-Wan’s own worry for Maul was becoming too much for him. Too bad there was nothing he could do about the situation until they got this council meeting over with. Afterwards, he could have a real conversation with Maul about what was going on with him. “Lead the way, Master,” Obi-Wan piped up, eager to move on. Qui-Gon seemed placated enough, regarding the two with a curious look, but didn’t utter another word and led them to the Council Chambers. Darth Maul was not looking forward to this. At all.

Princess Justice: Part 5

For those who aren’t caught up, here is the rest of the story!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

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Alya had walked into the school’s library, trying to find Nino. He was not only needed to help fix the situation, but she needed a shoulder to lean onto as well. When it came to her emotions, she always tried not to let her fear and sadness overcome her heart. But with everything that had happened that day, her walls naturally crumbled to the invading emotions. She needed to let them out before going into the battle, and this would be her only chance to do so.

At first, she couldn’t tell if there was anybody in the room. It wasn’t uncommon for people to flee when somebody had been akumatized. At school, if someone had succumbed to Hawkmoth’s power, then classes weren’t able to start back up until they were back to normal. Nobody ever tries to stop those who run from the danger. She just hoped that Nino hadn’t been one of the runners this time.

When listening carefully, the auburn-haired girl could hear the low thumping of someone’s music. Following the noises, she discovered her boyfriend sitting in one of the book aisles. His headphones covered his ears, the volume of music at its loudest, and his eyes were shut. She had learned that this was his way of blocking out the world, either from angry or fear. She didn’t want to disturb him, but right now, the world needed him.

She kneeled down to the spot next to him, grabbing his shoulder in the way down. When her touch hadn’t registered to him, she slightly shook his shoulder as if to wake him from a nap. The boys’ whole body froze for a single instant before jumping away. Without pausing his music, he ripped his headphones off of his head. He turned to look at her, his eyes widened with fright at the thought that an akuma had come to attack him. All she could give him was a shy, gentle smile in apology. She hadn’t meant to scare him, but an akuma attack could make even the bravest people become cowardice. 

“Oh hey,” Nino started, letting out a sigh of relief. “Sorry for jumping away, I just thought that you were one of the akumas that had come out of the locker room.”

“It’s fine,” Alya replied. “I understand.” She felt as if she could barely speak, her throat tight with tension. She had come here to make him understand the dire straits that they were in, yet she couldn’t get any more words to come out of her mouth. So instead of completing her mission, she laid her head down onto her boyfriend’s shoulder.

She thought that this wouldn’t be a problem. That, somehow, she would be able to share all that she had learned with one of the people she trusted the most. For her, it was usually the easiest thing in the world to do. But that wasn’t the case today.

The Creole girl knew her troubled lied with her emotions regarding the knowledge and not with the weight of it. She didn’t really have bad feelings concerning the secret identities of Ladybug and Chat Noir. Honestly, she loved the fact that two of her best friends were actual superheroes and were always saving the day! No, her real problem was with Lila’s confession, the exposing of her true nature. Truth be told, she was still furious about how much of a lying snake the Italian girl turned out to be. No one in class even suspected that she could have been in anyway malicious. But Marinette had known. She had even tried to warn everyone about the girl, but no one believed her. Alya hadn’t even believed her best friend, chalking the animosity up as just her just being jealous of having a new love rival. She had to wonder, maybe if she had had faith in Marinette from the beginning, this whole crisis could have been avoided. That maybe she wouldn’t have transformed into Princess Justice, that the ladybug miraculous would still be with her hands rather than in Hawkmoths. That thought caused the real pain in her heart.

Nino wrapped his right arm behind his girlfriend’s shoulder. Slowly, he kept moving his hand up and down her arm, trying to soothe her worries. The couple sat in silence for a few moments, trying to enjoy each other’s comfort. Then, the boy finally broke the tranquility.

“What’s wrong?” Of course, he knew something was wrong. He seemed to have the ability to read her like a book. She could have been sleeping, and he would still be able to sense her suffering.

The auburn-haired girl lifted her head up from its perch, solemnly gazing into the amber orbs of her dearest. If she didn’t do this now, then she would never get another chance to.

“If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell a single soul about it.” The tan boy cautiously nodded his head, not sure what he agreed too.

Then Alya told him everything. About Marinette’s akumatization and the rise of Princess Justice. About Lila’s confession and their near fight. About Adrien’s realization of the person behind Ladybug’s mask. About her admission of being Rena Rouge. About Adrien revealing himself as Chat Noir and his current plan on how to save the day. She even talked about her feelings on all that had happened so far. She left no stone unturned.

When she concluded her recanting, she noticed that Nino’s eyes were wide open and his jaw looked as if it would fall to the ground at any moment. Once he realized that she had finished, he quickly tried to compose himself before remarking.

“Whoa, that’s a lot to take in. I’m not really sure I know everything.”

The Creole girl had gone back to her original position of resting her body against her boyfriend’s side, using his shoulder as a headrest. However, he decided to move to where he would be sitting in front of her. He reached out and held her hand, their fingers interlocking.

“But what I do know is that you shouldn’t dwell on the past. Marinette might be upset that no one believed her about Lila, but she’s not going to blame you for her akumatization. I also know that everything is going to be alright. Marinette will be back to herself in no time, especially when we’re all there to help her.” The brunette commented, showing her his reassuring, goofy grin.

His words made it a little bit easier to breathe.

“You’re right.” She remarked, tilting forward so that both their foreheads were touching. “Since when have you been so good with words?”

“Babe, I’ve always been good with words. Didn’t you know, I’m the word guru of the entire class, you just happen to be rubbing off on me.”

The girl let out a laugh, pushing her boyfriend away. She then got up and reached her hand out to him.

“Well, how about we go wait for Adrien in the locker room? What do you say, word guru.”

Nino happily accepted her hand and stood up, glad that he was able to make her feel better. The couple then walked out of the library, never letting go of the other’s hand. And for the first time that day, Alya final felt relaxed.

                                                        ***

Adrien had never felt more stressed in his life than he did at that moment. He didn’t know where to start when searching for Master Fu. However, his feet were moving of their own accord. He hadn’t been able to stop running since he had left the school grounds. He only paused to take a breath when he reached the park that was across from Marinette’s house.

Why had he come here? Was it guilt that drove his feet towards her house?

No, he mentally spoke. Ladybug goes to see him often, so he would have to be in an area that she knows the best. And that area would be close to her house. It was a weak excuse, even he knew that.

He trudged towards the nearest bench and sat down. He leaned his head back, eyes closed, taking a moment to consider his options. Paris was a big city, the largest in all of France, and the guardian could be anywhere. He couldn’t risk transforming into Chat Noir and alerting the akumas, causing an early fight and his defeat. So he had to find one man in a huge city on foot. That could take hours, time of which he didn’t have.

The blond boy sighed, “Plagg is there any way you can help me find Master Fu?”

The tiny cay flew out of his shirt. “Sorry, kid, but I don’t have a clue where currently is. The old man moved to a secret location after he was attacked by that sentimonster. I haven’t been told where he went.”

“Well, can’t you sense the other kwamis?”

“Negatory. If I could, then I would have known who Ladybug was from the very beginning.”

Adrien’s hand flew into his hair, messing up all the straightened strands. His frustration grew every minute he continued to sit there. But where could he go? Without a plan, he wouldn’t be able to find the guardian and defeat Princess Justice on the same day.

“Do you really think I can do this?” He questioned dejectedly. He had never really done the job of Ladybug before. Sure, he was Ladybug for a day, but that was different. He had never done her work outside of the costume. He didn’t know what to do.

Though the question was meant to be rhetorical, the black cat answered anyway. “Adrien, I know you. You are a lot more capable than you think you are. If anyone could have done this, it’s you.”

At times, he couldn’t tell if Plagg was genuine or if he was just lying. The cat kwami could sometimes come off as a jerk, not taking things seriously, which caused them some discourse. Nonetheless, it was always in these moments, when Plagg tried to cheer him up, that he could see the truth. The kwami did care for him and regard him in a high manner.

“You’re right.” The boy let a small smile grace his face. “Come on, we’ve still got a guardian to find.”

Adrien stood up, opening his shirt so that the kwami could fly back in. With renewed hope, he was about to exit the park when a voice called out to him.

“Excuse me, young man, would you care for a drink?”

His whole body stiffened, not allowing for the slightest twitch of a muscle. He hadn’t even noticed that someone else was in the park. He was usually much more alertive when talking with Plagg. He really must be losing his edge. But that voice… it sounded familiar. He couldn’t quite place it, though he knew he had heard it before.

The blonde boy wandered over to the concessions stand, wary of who he would find. Once he reached the stand, he noticed that it was Master Fu standing behind the counter. At first, he was surprised to spot the older man, but that swiftly melted into solace. Guess the search wouldn’t take him as long as he thought.

“Master!” Adrien shouted, jumping over the counter to join the other man. “I need your help!”

Fu’s eyes widened at the boldness of his words and actions. “What is it that I can help you with, Adrien?”

Adrien proceeded to inform Master Fu about the catastrophe that was walking around and calling herself Princess Justice. He could tell that the older man was shocked to hear that Marinette had fallen prey to Hawkmoth’s tactics. It wasn’t every day that Ladybug had been defeated before she even got a chance to fight. The man wasn’t good at hiding his fear.

“So, Ladybug will be out of commission for this battle. And you came to get some allies to help defeat her.” 

The boy nodded his head in agreement.

“And you know of Ladybug’s true identity.” The older man phrased it as a statement rather than a question. The boy continued to nod his head. He had hoped Fu would overlook that little detail in his story, but he hadn’t. It seemed his time as Chat Noir would soon come to an end.

“I always knew this day would come.” The guardian sighed. He stared at his downtrodden pupil with understanding eyes. “Don’t worry Adrien, I’m not going to take away your miraculous.”

A confused, blonde eyebrow perked up on Adrien’s face. He knew the rule, so why wouldn’t Master Fu enact them? As if reading his mind, the older man decided to answer before he could even voice the question.

“Truth be told, I very much like you and Marinette. You’re both very special kids. It would be a shame for you both to lose your miraculous before you’ve even fully realized their powers. Plus, I owe you for saving my life.”

As the guardian went to get the miracle box, the boy bent his head forward. He whispered a thank you so faint that he could barely even hear it. When the master turned towards his pupil, he returned the gesture.

Soon, the boy had gathered the fox, bee, and turtle miraculouses and was heading out when Fu made one last comment.

“You are to return the miraculous after the mission. After you have gotten the ladybug miraculous back. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand,” Adrien replied, running back towards the school. Now he wasn’t sure whether he could get Ladybug’s earrings back or not.

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

Happy Holidays!!!!!

It took longer to write this part that what I originally thought, because this thing is was a beast. It took me twelve pages to write in my writing journal. Then it took six pages to write on Google Docs. This is the most I’ve every written for a chapter! However, I’m so glad that I did it! I’m glad I finally got this down before the new year. Now I gotta bounce to get ready for Christmas even with the relatives. Any ways, I hope y’all enjoyed reading and have a happy holiday!

Tag Squad (If you want to join, all you have to do is ask) @inkshila @aliana6021 @kindastupidbutkindanot @maribug-adrienoir @noire19 @stormysamurott @cumbernuggets @inkyknight @lulema @housekittysden @shinekivi @reyna-avila-ramirez-alreanaldo @chlobos-doodles @thecrazyone42 @mizu4thewin @salsyy301 @hiyyyaaaaahhhh @daydream-wannabewriter @writingishfanonsideblog @sinkingataegina @raventhewitch22 @yamina20-blog @whenforeverwasus @pieclown @blueflyingturtleontheway @darkheartlink @i-dare-say-life-is-a-uhmm-bitch

Edit: Part 6

Well I’m never going to write this.  But I do enjoy talking about this au. I think this AD au captures the characters in great way.

Oohh, I like that Macrophage Scientist even better. It helps explain why Macrophage took them in and how they even escaped. Macrophage set off the explosion and made it look like they all died in the process. Macrophage then had them all become Akudama and live in the slums of society to hide better. It would fit even more because I had this idea that 3803, as she got older, sometimes experienced biological issues. She’s perfectly healthy, but her body sometimes might stop working or she gets incredibly cold or hot or something. Maybe even goes temporarily blind. Thankfully 3803 always sees the warning signs a few days before happen so she can manage to work around job offers. Macrophage theorizes as 3803 grows, some stuff the older scientists did to her body went unfinished and her body is trying to deal with the changes as it griws and settles. Macrophage has made medicine to help 3803 (that she has to take daily, different doses depending on how she feels). But she still worries because she wasn’t one if the main scientists who experimented on them (because of her age at the time, Macrophage was more if a assistant in some experiments and caretaker of the subjects. She didn’t have access to everything). But it’s still concerning and they wonder if Platelet will experience them too or if she’s sage since she hadn’t been put through the last few experiments like 3803 had. 3803 also wonders if Cancer had gone through the same process and if she’s becoming a monster or something inhuman or she she can even die from this (3803 has a lot of stress behind her smiles). 

Cue 1146 being a overprotective worry wart whenever she gets like this. In fact before he became loyal to her, the one time as a Executioner he almost arrested her after he had had a bad day with a lot of nasty Akudama who had acted nice but deceived a lot of innocent people into their ruin. He even lost a comrade or two in the ruckus. He found her and impulsively grabbed her to ask her why she of all people is a Akudama! Instead of answering, 3803 goes limp and gets a blank look in her eyes like she’s a silent doll. He immediately panics and carries her to his living quarters. He fishes through her clothes until he finds what looks to be medicine. He can’t risk taking her to a doctor because she’s a akudama and he doesn’t know her friends yet. He takes the risk and follows the handwritten directions on the bottle to give her the right amount. Since she’s unresponsive he has to give her the medicine mouth to mouth (he only ever had one lesson so he hopes he doesn’t screw it up. He’s just thankful it’s liquid). After doing this two days, she finally acts responsive and thanks him because she was aware the whole time. She just couldn’t move. He gets down to business and asks her for her story. The implication he’s at a tipping point and he could grant her freedom or be 100% Executioner (being less then before us what got his comrades killed). She understands he’s at the edge and not the normal nice guy she’s been used to so she spills her whole story. She omits Macrophage and Platelet so they’ll stay safe either way but she figures she has no choice but to tell him about Cancer, the corruption and how she had to become a Akudama. He listens and surprises her greatly when he believes her. There are things he’s thought about for a long time and researched that don’t make sense to him. Everything she said fits in line. Plus he has wondered how she can heal so fast. He tucks her in his bed and tells her she can go in the morning. It still takes a few more weeks for 1146 to really leave the Executioners. Despite confirming the truth of the world. He still was attached to his life as a Executioner and all his friends there. He also thought about fighting the corruption inside the system because that’s what a good person would do. It was only when his mentor found out about 3803 from 1146 telling him about her in hopes he get some guidance that things changed. His mentor revealed he was in cahoots with Cancer and was now going to deliver her to him. Before he does though, Mentor makes absolute certainty that it’s her by brutalizing her to the point she should be dead but can’t die. 1146 is horrified by this and kills his Mentor to save 3803 and keep her secret.  With those actions, 1146 fully turns his back on the Executioners and loses all hope in the organization with the one person he looked up to most for guidance betrayed him. 

Luckily for him, he later meets Basophil Senpai who is a Akudama named, Philosopher. He’s a smooth talker who can discover the truth in any situation and can be quietly intimidating. He can also figure out how to disguise any lie if you need a new life. All for a price. He puts up with 1146’s idolization after they end up on the same mission (1146 is protecting a mob goon who’s having Basophil assist him in figuring which mafia gang killed his brother and lied about it. Then needs Basophil to fake his death after he kills them. Which Basophil does by cutting one of his hands off). 

There’s just something funny and tragic about 1146’s friends getting ready apprehend the legendary Deliverer who bewitched the equally legendary 1146 into abandoning them. Only to see she’s this tiny defenseless (normally she has a gun. But it’s gone now) cute woman glaring at them while protecting a sobbing child begging them to leave them alone. They’d be like, we were not trained for this. °_°;;;; After it’s all said and done, 4989 would try the hardest to make up with 3803 and Platelet for scaring them so much and arresting 3803 and 1146. Luckily they forgive him pretty easily after he saved 1146 and 3803. 

I like those pairs! How tragic though if 2001 is the one who stays behind? He believes 1146 and helps him. But he can’t be a Akudama. He stays behind to do what he can from there. Maybe try to make sure no one brainwashed Band Cell. Of course he’ll most likely die later. Maybe he still follows orders to fight 1146 like a good soldier would. But when 1146 delivers a fatal blow, 2001 gives him his blessing to go on and commends him for being a better man then him. 1146is understandably grateful for the blessing, but devastated that 2001 thought of himself as a coward. 

Yeah I think when it comes to Killer T and NK it’s a lot like in canon. They know they have the jurisdiction and duty to kill other cells if they need to. NK even gloating she can kill any cell she wants to without consequence. In AD verse, I can see them both knowing they have to do horrible things for their job. But they accept it because their world view deems it nessecary for order to not fall into anarchy. NK is known to be a lot smarter then the others so she probably figured out how warped the world is long before Killer T and 1146 did. But unlike 1146, both NK and Killer T don’t have the ideals to think they can have another life or do better. This is their mission and they believe 1146 is selfish and weak minded for turning his back on it. 

Yeah I could see Killer T eventually walking away from the Executioners. But again, he doesn’t have 1146’s ideals so he goes down a darker road. One 1146 disapproves of a lot. NK I could see sadly sticking to being a Executioner to the end. Maybe of 1146 doesn’t kill 2001, then she does when she figures out he’s still a little loyal to 1146. 

Boy every time I try to give Cancer and 3803 a platonic relationship you just want to throw Abnormalities spin on it. XD Okay. The way I see them is this. Cancer often visited the lab to check up on the progress. He called the subjects his children and eventually picked his favorites who he showed more affection for. Not coincidently those subjects were always the ones who showed the most potential to be successful candidates. 3803 was one of them. 3803 had spent her whole life in the lab. Her knowledge from the outside world came from stories from Macrophage and older kids and adults who were captured. The stories validated her fear of Cancer because she knows there’s something wrong with him and what he does. It gets worse as as she begins to lose friends along the way, like 4201 and 5100 or other kids who pass away. Cancer began treating her like his actual daughter when it was confirmed she was showing signs of being like him. He called her his princess. Often carried her around by balancing her on his hip with one arm around her while he checked up on everything. Kissed her forehead and cheeks. Took naps with her as told her bedtime stories. When she’s older, Platelet was introduced and thanks to all the successful experiments 3803 had undergone. The scientists performed the exact same ones on Platelet to find out she had the same potential. Cancer, to a lesser extent, also began showing his other ‘daughter’ favor. Despite this affection. Both girls are terrified of him because of how easy it is for him to become indifferent and even violent with those he claims to care for. Also despite claiming he loves them, he easily discards them and shows how indifferent he is when they die. He’s very two faced. 

Years later when Cancer discovers both of them survived. He uploads his consciences into mechanical animals or even hacking into their phones to spy on them. He sees 3803 has become a women and displays more signs of immortality then anyone else (besides him) he’s seen. He’s then like, my princess has become a queen. Then he starts getting both amused and jealous over 1146’s romantic feelings for her. During a actual confrontation between them, Cancer makes it clear he’s going to marry her himself and won’t share. 

I like the idea that, like in canon, Cancer can and will pretend to be a ordinary person just to observe or move things along. He can use technology to alter his voice and appearance. He’ll pretend to be one if his underlings underling, like a secretelary or a driver to get a good read on everything. He even developed a friendship with 1146 before 1146 left. Seeing 1146’s potential, he even recommended his inner circle to monitor and mold 1146 into some one who could be trusted. Maybe he even pretends to be a client to 3803. He, acting like a citizen, requests she bring him a package through a very dangerous area. When she arrives and delivers her package. He opens it to reveal it’s empty. She’s shocked and apologizes, wondering if she got it wrong. But he silences her by giving her a deep kiss on the mouth. He reveals what he wanted was to lock lips with the legendary Deliverer as if they were lovers. Before she recovers from her shock, he hands her a ton of money and dissapears. 1146 is not happy when he hears about this.

 Yes. 1146 is a big flippin deal to the Executioners. He was a prodigy from day one. A role model and well respected by everyone. He was already being groomed to be head Executioner one day. Him leaving the organization was a huge blow to morale and strength that they try to downplay and kept it secret from most lower rank Executioners that he’s a Akudama now for as long as they can. If possibly they do want him back. If they have to force him into it by messing with his brain by inserting control chip or threatening what he holds dear and put a bomb collar on him to keep up appearences. They will. 

Regulatory T would be a great Executioner. I could also see Helper T, Dendretic and many other immune cells being Executioners. Afterall they probably just can’t believe things can be different or think about whether it should be. They just do what they think they should because Cancer keeps everyone in so much darkness. 

3803 is a awesome gun user. It always surprises people because she usually just drives her motorcycle and acts more defensive then offensive. But if it came down to it, don’t think she’s unwilling to protect herself or someone else. She has nerves of steel and she’s seen things most couldn’t imagine.

The Executioners and Akudama they deal with quickly learn messing with 3803 is the fastest way to die by 1146’s brutal hand. He can’t imagine living without her. 

~~~

Geeez, I’m getting so into this, I might as well do it. (Hahahaha, I joke, but who knows?)

OOoofff, so many feels for 3803 here. Macrophage definitely feels guilty and tries to make sure that both Platelet and 3803 have a somewhat normal lifestyle outside of the experimental facilities, but there are times where she feels like she’s not trying hard enough. Even more so because 3803 and Platelet have become Akudamas and are at risk of becoming Executed. 

Macrophage not being one of the main scientists is also a good take on this character. 

Oooooohhhh, love how you put in a little backstory as to how 3803 and 1146 met. Of course 1146 would be reckless and impulsive enough to ask. I bet it was during this interrogation he was starting to have doubts about the Executioner’s role in society and how Akudamas weren’t all what they seemed. Awww, and 3803 does everything that she can to protect her loved ones! It really fits he character and I love it. 

Hmmm, who is 1146’s mentor here? You never quite mentioned here? Could it be U-1117 (if I remember correctly, this is the original white blood cell from the original pilot… or what about the Neutrophil teacher during his childhood in that one chapter from CAW canon?). It would be tragic considering that both of these characters are actually quite kind from the original source material. 

OH MY GOSH. BASOPHIL AS A PHILOSOPHER???? IT FITS SO NICELY!!! Hehehe, the whole time you’re talking about Basophil reminds me of this comedy sketch. 

Yup, the WBC squad are definitely trying to figure out how to deescalate the situation when they realize that 3803 and Platelet are definitely Akudama, but are they truly that bad? 

So many tragedies… 2001, in my opinion, is definitely the type of person who is loyal to their life’s calling to the very end, despite how corrupt or bad it may be. He promised to lay down his life as an Executioner and he’s going to stick to it. I imagine 1146 and 2001’s final confrontation might be similar to that Brawler and Master’s fight, except both are wielding sabers and are more focused on strategy over muscle. 

Totally agree with you on Killer T and NK. NK would definitely commend 2001 for his continued stay on the Executioner’s side. Like 2001, she would definitely try to change things on their side, but at the end of the day, orders are orders. There are definitely things she has done that she regrets doing, but to be honest, it’s the system’s fault, right? She’s cynical, but she understands that the Executioners are somewhat at fault for what’s happening.

Killer T would definitely be an Akudama and he would be called… I don’t know? Brawler has a nice ring to it, but I suppose if you wanted a new name, he could be called the Lone Wolf? Or Loner? After becoming disillusioned with the Executioners, he works on his own terms. Oooohhh, another one, Vigilante. He executes Akudama and Executioners he deems to have crossed the lines into illegal territory. 

Okay, to be fair, I was only suggesting a bit of a twisted relationship, hahaha. I’m not the one writing the creepy stuff in great detail. But, in all seriousness, I love the gradual descent into madness Cancer has with 3803. And his jealousy regarding 1146? He would definitely taunt him and tease him about the whole “Husband” thing that Macrophage has been talking about. 

Ooooh, and that last part with Cancer tricking 3803 into kissing him? That is so twisted and diabolical. 

I approve. XD

Anyways, yeah the entirety of the immune system are definitely Excutioners. XD It’s basically in their character descriptions, hahaha. 

As for 3803 being a great gunman? I was kind of entertaining the idea that she’s a pacifist and that throughout her career as the Deliverer, she has never outright killed someone. Injured, yes, but never killed. She would be the type of person to misaim on purpose so that they have another chance at life. The only reason she missed is because she did it on purpose.

(Have you watched Trigun? I’m kind of modeling her after Vash the Stampede, haha! Love. And. Peace!)

Anyway, at this rate, we might as well be writing season 2 for AD. Seriously, Kodaka where you at?

Thanks for the submission and I hope that you have a wonderful day! :D

Ebony and Ivory (V x Reader Fanfic) Chapter 25

Author’s Notes: Sorry this one came out so late, I had some other stuff that held me up. Have some more pain.

Chapter 25

Numbness filled your entire being.

How could you even begin to process it, the feeling crawling up your spine? Staring at this man... Vergil, the culmination of every fear you held, the manifestation of your failure. He stood straight and poised, eyes sharp and brow furrowed in a stern, albeit dazed expression. Processing. You understood now, all of V’s reservations. His lies, his hidden truths, the hesitations he showed. Everything was falling into place, the pieces fitting together in a chain of despair and lies. It made you feel numb, eyes wide and staring at this person, standing in place of the one you lost.

Everything made sense now. Dante’s comment about the Yamato separating man from devil, V saying Urizen “took” something important from him, something he couldn’t live without. His desire to reach the demon, that drive to move forward without stop. It was bitterly obvious now, this truth you so desperately didn’t want to see. Each new thought made your teeth grind, the pain growing and growing inside until you felt near bursting, breath shaking and nails digging into your palms. You were a fool, an ignorant fool. And you hated yourself for it.

V and Urizen...they were pieces of one whole, different being.

Dante’s brother.

V was a piece of Dante’s brother.

The devil hunter in question was furious, staring at Vergil in shock and anger. Each breath sounded like it was sucked through his teeth, eyes sharp and jaw clenched. He looked very displeased to see his brother, that was for certain, more so than you had ever seen him. That realization only made your grief grow, clawing its way up your throat and shredding everything in its wake. The man you loved, trusted, and adored...he was gone, and in his place was a man who caused the death of so many human lives. Nothing you knew made sense anymore, none of it did. You thought you knew V, knew his intentions and his feelings. But now...you knew nothing.

Because he was part of a bigger picture, a different person.

But it didn’t stop any of it, any of the pain, the mourning, the agony. All of this had happened, things crumbling like wet paper and you still were so in love with the poet. That alone was crushing and confusing, making your head spin in circles trying to figure it all out. You loved him, you loved V so much that it was unbearable now.

Everything was unbearable now.

You were volatile, on the edge of collapse and there was nothing you could do about it but sit, shaking softly and struggling to pull yourself together. Nothing worked, nothing would work. No amount of self composure, breathing, or reasoning would remove the growing turmoil inside your body.

This is agony.

Nero looked as shocked confused as you felt, looking at the newcomer with wide eyes and chest rising in quick breaths. You all watched as Vergil turned, walking over to where V’s book lay on the Qliphoth floor, now just a forgotten reminder of who had it before. You jolted, hands trembling when he bent down, picking it up with careful fingers. You didn’t want him to touch it, he shouldn’t be touching it. That book belonged in V’s hands, his voice murmuring the gentle lines of William Blake’s poetry. You could feel it now, creeping into the tangled mess of emotion in your mind, that one thing you hadn’t felt so potently in a long...long time.

Fury.

You felt it worming its way into your skull, only slightly. The faintest hints of rage, carried on a cold breeze and mingling with the other terrible things inside, becoming acquainted. How could this have happened, how could V do this to you? Was...any of it really? The love, the affections, his kind words...or was it all just a tool to keep moving forward, your energy his only means of getting back to Urizen?

You didn’t want to doubt, not like this. Not now, when things were bad enough. But it existed there, in your mind, wrapping around you like a forceful embrace. To be used and abused for so long, and now discovering the person you loved may have done the same...it was shattering, something you didn’t want to accept. It couldn’t be true, could it? You thought you knew that wasn’t the case, but what the hell did you know anymore. All this situation proved was that you knew nothing.

Dante was the first to speak into the silence stretching in the air, finding his voice much easier than you. Hell, there was nothing in your mind you could formulate into a sentence at that moment that made sense. The devil hunter was on a mission, one that was much clearer than yours now, and his tone definitely showed it. Filled with a low warning, growing in intensity as he regarded the tall, surly-looking male before him.

“Ya got some pretty big cojones for comin’ back,” He growled, eyes narrowing a second before he startled sprinting at his brother, voice growing louder as he raised his sword for an attack, “Just don’t know when to give up, do ya?!”

You felt yourself tense up, not sure how the other male would respond to such a head on assault from Dante. It was far too sloppy, even for him. His mind wasn’t in the right place, not with everything going on.

Vergil was not fazed.

You watched, that hollow ache in your chest growing when Vergil twitched, easily blocking the hit with a flick of his Yamato. He flipped it around in a precise movement, sending the sword’s sheath hard into Dante’s stomach. It happened so fast, almost elegant in his movements. Even when Dante took the object and hurled it right back. It slid onto the sword once more, pushing Vergil back with a low grunt and a dark glare. What a look he wore, annoyance now tracing the lines of his brow and mouth, those eyes glinting in disdain. You couldn’t understand it, how V came from this person, or why.

Nothing made sense.

Dante fell back, looking frustrated and panting heavily as he shook off the blow. You saw him lock gazes with Nero, a snarl passing over his lips as he started forward again.

“Get out of my way, Nero!” He shouted, despite the fact that Nero wasn’t making any movements to stop him.

But the boy stepped back, closer to your side as he watched everything unfold in absolute perplexion. You couldn’t blame him, especially considering you didn’t have the faintest idea of how to process anything you were feeling. How were you supposed to stand, to feel, to recover? Your throat felt raw and dry, body cold and on the verge of shivering. You still weren’t over what happened, what your Deity had done to you. It was a breach of your trust, one that was invasive and wrong and...so many things, too many things to pick apart. It left you feeling violated, betrayed--the one person who had guided you for so long just forcibly held you down and made you watch your world collapse. What were you supposed to do?

Nero glanced down at you, seeing the absolute vulnerability in your expression without fail this time. You felt him wrap an arm around your waist, making you jolt a little bit in surprise as you finally gazed up at him. He looked concerned for you, guilt and sadness in his expression as he took in all the grief in yours. There was no doubt Nero knew exactly what you were feeling in that moment, and he didn’t know what to do.

He pulled you to your feet, helping to keep you steady as the men continued their little spat. You flickered your eyes back to them, watching in shock as Vergil practically teleported into Dante’s next attack, the loud clang of metal on metal echoing in the room. You took another step back, stumbling a bit but held up by Nero’s arm. What the hell were they doing? What did this little fight solve? They were in a test of strengths now, sword against sword and creating sparks in their wake. Dante was anger, hot and stubborn whereas Vergil was cold, calm and poised. Polar opposites, like a cat and a dog.

It shocked you when Vergil spoke, his voice sending a jolt of trepidation down your body where it settled in your stomach, making you sick. That was not the voice of V, not even close. His tone, honeyed and warm like a caress. And Vergil’s…

Cold, higher in pitch and completely incomparable.

“Defeating you like this...has no meaning.” He stated, lips curling into something akin to a smile and eyes glinting with the light from their swords.

But Dante wasn’t going to let up. He was straining, small grunts leaving his lips and shoulder muscles twitching in his attempt to push back against his brother’s advance.

“Come on Vergil,” He rumbled, tone low and filled with stubborn determination, “Let’s do this!”

But...why? Why did they need to fight? You didn’t understand. It was like the air around them was charged, two energies clashing and making your hair stand on end. You didn’t like the sensation, especially not the one Vergil brought with him.

Please. I just want V back.

I don’t understand. I don’t understand anything.

“Heal your wounds, Dante. Get strong,” Vergil replied to his brother’s commands, looking far more calm and steady. Devoid of an emotion but smug, cold satisfaction, “After that, we’ll settle the matter.”

He whipped the sheath of the Yamato around, knocking Dante’s legs out from under him as he brought the sword itself down. Steel clanged against each other, sending up another cloud of sparks. Dante blocked the attack, the force sending him sprawling back into an ungraceful slide. Frustration made its home in the demon hunter’s expression, the man staring incredulously at his brother like what he said was the opposite of what he expected. You didn’t know what bad blood the two shared, or why. Years of conflict had to lead to this moment, bitterness running deep in their veins and harsh words seeming to be the only thing they could spout.

You lifted your gaze, watching as Vergil left his fighting stance. He lifted his sword, turning his back on the three to slash an x into the air--glowing indigo lines formed where he did, leaking an ethereal smoke. What in the world was he doing? Your shoulders started trembling again, the Void power setting into a dangerous, warning swirl with how your emotions were beating against the walls of your head. This man hadn’t once looked into your eyes, acknowledged you, or showed any sign of noticing you there at all. There was so much you wanted to say, to ask, but your body seemed locked in that location, frozen by indecision.

V is a part of this man, he who is nothing like the man you love.

Please, I’m so lost. I don’t know what to do.

You watched as the lines he cut opened, revealing a dark, ominous purple of a swirling portal. It clicked with you immediately that he was intending to make his leave, that sword serving as a means to move between spaces--there was a lot that the Yamato could do that you didn’t understand. Lips parted, you tried to say something, whatever would ease the ache even a little bit. But your tongue was practically frozen to the roof of your mouth. Did you have any right to say anything, to ask anything? So much of this felt wrong, like it wasn’t real.

Vergil took a single step toward the portal he created, pausing briefly to turn his head. You saw his lips part, face shifting from the smug, coldness to something much more calm. What was he doing? He looked over his shoulder at the boy next to you, his expression calm and neutral.

“Thank you, Nero.” He stated simply, meeting Nero’s confused gaze for a brief moment.

Before his eyes shifted ever so slightly to you.

You didn’t know what to expect--maybe recognition, or guilt, or some sign of your poet being inside this stranger you didn’t know. You couldn't imagine what he would see in your face, maybe vulnerability, hurt, and despair. But...that didn’t matter, and you received no such thing from this man. His expression didn’t shift, showing no sign of anything as his grayish-blue perception graced your face. And that was all he spared...a single passing glance, no words, no explanations...nothing. He turned in the next instant, not acknowledging you in any other way as he took another step into the portal, intending to enter it and be on his merry way.

The emotions inside you broke, coiling tighter and tighter until they snapped like a cheap rubber band.

It was all too much. It overwhelmed you, every barrier shattering under the weight of your pain, despair, and anger. So much anger. You couldn’t control your body, and you could scarcely care.

You don’t get to do that to me.

You don’t get to just come into people’s lives and hurt them.

You don’t get to walk away.

Thousands of tendrils snapped out of your form in an instant, sending Nero sprawling back as your launched forward, so fast a crack whipped out into the air. Your Void power raged inside, spiking out in all directions with your volatile emotions and mixing with the fierce, roaring agony of your Foresight. Stop Stop Stop! Your ability was screaming at you, pounding against you in waves that told you this action was by far the worst you could do, something that would have negative effects. But you didn’t care. You couldn’t care. This pain was of little consequence, your mind in a frenzy far too great to stop yourself anymore.

You would take this pain, and turn it into power.

None of the three men expected your attack. Vergil only turned at the sound you released, barely managing to lift his katana in enough time to block himself.

You slammed into him, tendrils lashing out in all directions like uncontrollable whips as you pressed against the sheath of the sword, pinning Vergil to the ground. The impact was so hard it cracked the floor beneath him, a grunt escaping his lips. Had it been a normal human, you could have broken his back doing that. But Vergil was no garden variety, every day human being. The portal behind him was mere inches away, the swirling, ominous purple illuminating you both in this struggle, locked in your own contest of strength.

He had the good graces to look surprised--he was gritting his teeth, shocked emotions flashing briefly in his eyes before being replaced by cold disdain. You were panting, eyes black and hair raising with the crackling, burning energy flickering over your skin. No more, no more holding back, no more biting your tongue. You had enough of these games, of the lies, of the pain. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair. You tried so hard, sacrificed so much only to be the only left aching in the end.

I gave everything only to be treated like nothing again.

The thought alone made your power spike, nausea rising in your stomach and leaving you with the taste of whale oil in your mouth. You heard Dante and Nero gasp, watching as your power display grew, tendrils turning an inky black and slamming into every available surface they could find. You were out of control, you couldn't stop. Not anymore.

“Y/N!” Dante yelled, trying to run at you but fifty tendrils whipped out, knocking against his sword and sending him flying back. You didn’t even look at him, eyes locked on Vergil’s as you gripped the Yamato’s sheath, the claws of your gauntlet digging in. Each breath was like ice, the cold chilling you all the way to your fingertips. Where the black, sharp claws cut in dark crystal started to form, slowly spreading over the sheath.

I don’t care. I don’t care I don’t care.

I cared too much.

“You…!” Your voice was a raw hiss, vibrating with your power as tendril after tendril slammed into his sheath, “You don’t just get to do that…!”

Vergil let out a low grunt, glaring hard at you and pressing the heel of his boot against your stomach, trying to peel you off. If he thought that measly pain would stop you, he was gravely mistaken.

You don’t get to just make me love you then take everything.

“Foolishness.” Vergil ground out from between his teeth, not breaking his gaze with you and shoving the Katana back hard. More tendrils slammed down, holding you in place and refusing to budge. More and more, slamming into the ground, walls, ceiling. It was so loud, everything was so loud and chaotic but you couldn’t muster an ounce of caring. It hurt, everything hurt so much.

You hurt me.

The howl of the Void started to grow around you, filling this room of the Qliphoth until you felt like you were back in the Void. For every movement you made, the pain only grew in spades. It grew and grew until you felt like you were on fire, choking back a hoarse scream of agony and swallowing it whole. You refused to yield, not now. Not when everything was so raw, painful.

“You don’t get to just hurt people and walk away like its nothing…!” You snarled in his face, hands trembling as you pushed and pushed your power to the limit. You were starting to exert, finally after all this time. No longer replying on the rune to save you, “Where is he?! Where is V?!”

You are not him. There is no way someone like him can be inside someone like you.

There must be a mistake, or a lie.

Vergil narrowed his eyes at your words, lips curling in a snarl of disdain. You thought you saw something flicker in his eyes, taking in your trembling form above him, but it was gone too fast to identify it.

Your power was growing out of control, the strain of using so much energy making black veins appear under your skin. You shuddered, fighting the urge to retch as more whale oil bubbled into your throat.

I won’t stop. I won’t. I don’t care anymore.

“If you were wise, you would back down now,” Vergil hissed, fingers gripping the sheath of his sword so hard you heard the material groan under the strain, “This doesn’t concern you.”

His words made you suck in a breath, blood boiling further and sharp breaths leaving your parted lips. He didn’t get to just do that, to disregard everything you had done and all that you felt. Was there no hint of V in this man? No memory of you, of what you shared? The thought of every trace of your poet being lost made you want to scream, to destroy more, to fight until you were a husk on the ground with no power left. You were crumbling, unable to hold anything back and unable to stop.

The Void energy snapped out from your body, creating fissures along the ground where rats began to materialize around you. It was an ability you knew was available, but you never used it. Not once. Even now, it wasn’t happening by choice--you couldn’t control yourself, the energy wildly lashing out in whatever way it could. You heard Dante and Nero let out noises of shock and alarm, unable to make heads or tails of what was happening around you.

You were coming undone.

“Why?” You whispered to the man beneath you, eyes filled with every ounce of pain you felt as you stared at his cold face, “Just tell me why…!”

Just tell me something.

Anything.

But Vergil had no explanations to give you. He sucked in a breath, releasing it in a sharp huff and narrowing his eyes on your face. A low growl rumbled in his chest, filled with warning as he still refused to break contact with your eyes. Somehow...that was even worse. To have no guilt, no shame, no remorse. To have nothing.

But something was there, a knowing look in those icy orbs as he took in your condition. You couldn’t imagine what you looked like.

“Stand down now.” He commanded, tone still a low growl as he pressed back harder and harder. He tilted his head, leaning his face closer to yours as the sheath pressed against your heaving chest. You didn’t quite know what you expected him to say. Maybe more commands for you to back off, something condescending or rude. But what came out of his mouth hit you like a blow to the chest.

“You know as well as I that you don’t have the energy to take me…Sparrow.”

Your eyes flew open in shock, every part of you coming to a startling halt at that nickname uttered on his lips. Vulnerability hit you like a freight train, all concentration lost and brain scrambling in pain and grief. No no no...he didn’t get to just do that, to say that. He didn’t get to just fucking do that...!

He knew.

He knew what V called you.

Your poet had uttered that name, spoken in soft, adoring tones and hushed lips. While making love, while sharing a kiss and while baring his soul to you. Hearing Vergil say it to you now…

It broke you.

The male took advantage of your vulnerability, snapping the katana up and sending you flying back. You choked on your yelp of pain, tendrils too unstable to break your fall or help you. They disappeared the instant your rage broke, turning into black crystal and snapping off from your velocity. It hurt, it hurt so much it was unbearable--both from your emotional distress and the backlash of the Void.

Exerting yourself so much and  fighting against the Foresight to that extend had wrecked your body. The nausea was unbearable, limbs barely able to move and breaths feeling like ice whenever you wheezed in. When was the last time you had exerted like this, to a point so terrible you felt on the verge of collapse?

Nero leapt to your aid, cushioning your fall and catching you so there was no impact. He skidded, a huff of air leaving his chest as he came to a halt, holding your limp form. The instant you were no longer in motion, you stopped being able to hold back the bile. You doubled over, retching up whale oil that splattered onto the ground near your feet. Disgusting, unbearably so. The neon blue glow was a stark contrast on the dark, bloody red of the Qliphoth flesh. You breathed shakily, slumping in Nero’s grasp and pressing a hand to your mouth. It was too much, it was too much to handle anymore.

Nero was panicking, that much you could tell. He held you up entirely, metal arm firm around your waist and the other at your shoulders.

“Y/N…!” He gasped, settling on one knee to hold you up, “You need to stop…! Your body can’t take much more of this…!”

You didn’t care. You couldn’t.

You wearily lifted your gaze, just in enough time to see Vergil slip the Yamato back into the sheath. He looked no worse for wear, body showing no sign of being hurt by your tendrils. You started to tremble again, the sensations heightened by the name he dared to call you, one that was so unbelievably painful. How dare he do that, how dare he take something that mattered so much and fling it at you in disdain? Had Nero not been holding you back, you would have bolted at him again, hands shaking with the desire of it.

He didn’t say anything more. He merely turned, clicking his tongue once before finally stepping into the portal he had formed. Leaving. Heaving gasps left you, teeth clenching as you watched the purple swallow him, the space closing as soon as he was out of sight and leaving no trace of the man who hurt you so terribly. You realized a bit belatedly that the book V owned was now gone--Vergil had taken it with him. Something about that only served to make things worse, the anger pounding harder and louder on your skull. A skull that was already throbbing in pain.

I can’t take this anymore.

Nero was panting behind you, body forcing you to turn so he could look at you now that Vergil was gone. You couldn’t meet his gaze, unable to lift your head at all now that the fight was draining, leaving numbness again. What were you supposed to do, to feel? Two people in your life that you trusted, that you thought cared about you had betrayed you within the same time span of each other. Who could you trust now?

You can’t think like that. You can’t.

You can’t let them take more.

“Are you alright?” Nero asked quietly, brow furrowed with concern as he put his hands on your shoulders. You could even feel Dante looking at you, carefully walking over from where he stood.

You were far from okay, vulnerability playing on the edges of your mind and mingling with the despair and heartbreak. But no amount of wording or explaining would convey that.

“...No,” You whispered, wiping the whale oil from your mouth with the back of your hand. Your voice sounded unfamiliar even to you, tired and broken as you continued quietly, “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Nero’s hands squeezed you, offering comfort in any way he could. Honestly what could he say? Nothing could make up for what had happened, and no words would soothe the turmoil inside.

Still, he spoke, tone softer and more regretful than you had ever heard it, “ God damn it...I’m sorry, kid. We’ll figure shit out, we’ll…” He trailed off, struggling to find the words to articulate his thoughts. You were grateful he was at least trying, at the moment he was all you had in way of comfort. You missed V, the betrayal and hurt so heavy you felt like drowning. And worse...you missed Griffon, Shadow, and Nightmare. What had happened to them, where had they gone? Losing them on top of losing V was...devastating.

You wanted them back so bad you could cry.

Dante said nothing to you, but his eyes were on your face. You could feel it. You didn’t want to know what the devil hunter thought of you, how this affected him too. You had feelings for V, which was apparently a part of his brother, the very same brother whose other half tried to kill everyone more than once. You knew nothing of the circumstances between the two, but judging by his previous words Vergil had been less than kind to him in the past. Why beat around the bush? You were passionate with V, devoted, deeply in love with him. And now none of him remained.

“You both should get out of here,” Dante sighed, turning away and making both you and Nero look up to see him start walking away, “Get back to the van, I’ll handle things from here.”

Nero did not like that one bit, and neither than you.

He stood, moving toward Dante faster than you could will your legs to move. Especially with how weak you were.

“Wait just a second…!” He snapped, annoyance peppering his tone as he jogged to catch up with Dante, “If that’s your brother, what happened to V?!”

He still didn’t realize yet, still hadn’t connected the dots. You felt like you were about to collapse, standing on wobbly legs and gagging at the feeling of whale oil still lingering in your throat. Disgusting, you felt absolutely trashed. Hearing Nero just say V’s name made your eyes squeeze shut, trying to hold back another rippling wave of pain. You didn’t want to hear this anymore, there was no desire in you to talk or prattle on about what happened. You were guessing Vergil went back to the top of the tree, so that’s where you intended to go.

You wouldn’t be stopped.

The Foresight in your stomach flared out again at the thought, making your teeth grind and a hand snake down to hold your abdomen. Agonizing, like being stabbed over and over from the inside. It was warning you to back off, to mind your own business. But you were far past that now.

Return home. The whispers of the Void were lingering in your ears, quiet but firm in their requests, Return to us. He demands it.

You couldn’t give a fresh fuck about what “He” demanded anymore.

“He returned,” Dante replied to Nero, making your gaze lift to tiredly stare at them both, “To himself.”

Nero squinted at the older man in confusion, eyes darting between Dane and where Vergil once stood. He still didn’t know, he didn’t understand exactly what was going on...and maybe that was for the best.

“Go home Nero,” Dante continued, walking away with a low sigh under his breath and a heaviness to his step. Limping, the fight with Vergil taking a lot of of him, “This doesn’t concern you.”

Bad choice of words, the worst ones in fact.

Nero went on the defensive in an instant, an incredulous look in his eyes as he started after Dante again, “Like hell…! I lost my right arm because of him…!”

You struggled to keep up with them, measuring your steps and pressing the heel of of your palm to your temple. God, your head was throbbing, on the verge of dizziness. You wished they would slow down.

“This is not your fight. I need to stop him, and that’s all that matters.” Dante replied simply, not turning or stopping in the slightest.

This conversation was going nowhere.

Nero only sounded more angry, his tone taking on a bitter, mocking edge as he snarls, “I’m not gonna let you have all the fun, Dante…!”

Now that got the devil hunters attention, making him turn on his heel and that calm air leaving him in an instant. Seeing him angry was jarring, a far cry from his usual lazy, bemused demeanor. You felt something begin to snap, the air growing thick with energy again. You paused when they did, sucking in a breath at the look on Dante’s face. Jaw clenched, eyes sharp and frustrated. You were a few feet away from them, trying to gather yourself and find the strength to move and go after his brother. Would they noticed if you just walked away?

You contemplated it.

“You don’t get it!” Dante snapped, leveling his sword on the ground and glaring at Nero’s face in absolute exasperation.

Nero scoffed, tone growing more and more bitter than before as he replied, “Lemme guess, I’m dead weight? You can shove that--”

“That’s not it, Nero!” Dante’s voice was growing louder, both of them were.

This argument was going somewhere, it was about to go off like a bomb, and you didn’t have the patience for it.

“What is it then?!” Nero yelled back, more forcefully than you had ever heard him, hands balled up into fists.

“He’s your father…!”

...Excuse me?

That made your thoughts halt completely in their tracks, eyes going wide and all the air halting in your lungs. If what you were feeling before was bad, this revelation was like an extra kick to the face, far more shocking than you could image it to be. Vergil...Vergil was his father? Nero’s father? Your stomach started doing flips, hands shaking and breaths starting to come short and fast. An eerie silence took up space in the air, making the hairs on the back of your neck prickle as you tilted your head, looking at Nero’s form once the realization really started settling in. This was...too much, even for you. Shocking, undeniably so.

But you couldn’t imagine what it would do to Nero.

To grow up without family, without a mother and father, only to find out now that it existed...you could practically feel his shock, the boy taking a step back away from Dante. Your need to comfort others kicked in, overriding your own shock, grief and pain for a moment as you stared worriedly at your friend. This was too much, he didn’t deserve to learn like this. His own father had ripped off his fucking arm? To be put through all that pain, forced to suffer and adapt how he did only to find out his own flesh and blood committed the atrocity?

This was why Dante was so reluctant to include Nero in anything, wasn’t it?

“...What?!” Nero hissed, breath coming shakily now as he stared at Dante’s face. You couldn’t see his expression, but you could imagine how he must have looked.

You could, however, see Dante’s.

There was regret there in his eyes, all the fight draining out of him as he lowered his head a bit. This was a secret Dante had to have been sitting on for a long time, why he was so hellbent on keeping Nero from fighting Urizen...fighting his own father. The guilt and grief that simmered within his eyes made you want to cry on Nero’s behalf, especially considering how much he looked up to Dante, wanted to help him. The devil hunter was his uncle, they were family. You could only imagine how much that hurt.

Dante was trying to protect him.

“I had a feeling, the first time I saw you, but I just wasn’t sure,” Dante replied, stepping past Nero as he spoke, recalling memories of the past and taking on a faraway look. He turned back to Nero, expression far more serious than you were used to as he added, “And then I saw how the Yamato reacted...and I was certain.”

He was referring to when Nero acquired the sword--When it absorbed into his Devil arm all those years ago, back during the conflict between them and the Order of the Sword occurred in Fortuna. You remembered Nero’s tales of the events, how he explained the sensation of taking the Yamato into himself and learning how to use it. But of course he could--he was Vergil’s kin, the sword would have been able to recognize any trace of its owner in the white haired boy. That was the first indication of what was to come, but you and Nero were lacking in too much information to see it.

“He’s your father.” Dante said quietly, tone firm and absolutely resolute. Zero hesitations.

Nero’s silence broke volumes, your ears easily picking up on the labored breathing coming from his lips. He was trying to hold himself together, he was trying to stand under the weight this information wrought.

You both had something to ache about tonight.

“Now he needs an ass-kicking,” Dante continued, patting Nero lightly on the back, “But I can’t have you go and kill your old man.”

With that...Dante seemed to be done.

He walked away again, heading out of a tunnel entrance into the room out of sight with no glances behind him. Leaving you and Nero alone, both struggling to keep yourself from falling apart under the days events. You didn’t know what to do, what to say, how to help. How could you aid Nero now, drowning and barely able to hold your head above the water? To try and save another who was drowning as well...surely you would only make it worse? It was the blind leading the blind, and you didn’t want to cause Nero any more pain.

But...you couldn’t just do nothing. Especially not when Nero turned his head, staring at where Vergil was standing before and now allowing you to see his expression. The look he wore, so vulnerable and heart-broken...it made you freeze, eyes burning with tears as you saw a little boy in him, for a moment. One who had just wanted a family, but was now forced to deal with the consequences that came with having one. He looked conflicted, confused, hurt. All the things you felt but on a completely different spectrum.

When his mouth opened, he uttered in a quiet, emotionally raw tone, “My father…?”

You moved then, unable to stop yourself.

It was probably the last thing he wanted, or needed, but the pain in his voice was just too much to bear. You limped over to him, wrapping your arms around him from behind in a hug and feeling him suck in a sharp breath at the act. There was nothing else you could do, you had nothing left. It hurt so terribly, this burden you both shared in this moment of pain. He was your friend, one of the closest you had ever had, and you couldn’t stand to see him suffer too.

You deserved better than this.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, pressing your forehead to the back of his coat as you counted his shuddering breaths, “Nero...I am sorry...You will get through this. You will.”

You must. One of us has to.

Nero didn’t say anything, but he also didn’t move away. You only felt him let out a slow breath, his head lowering as silence stretched between you both, one of his hands gripping onto your wrist and lightly squeezing. His only show of support to your actions with him not being able to speak. It was enough, just enough to let you know what was on his mind.

And it was all you could do, to stand there for a moment with your friend, offering the only comfort you could while you both tried to pick up the pieces Vergil had left in his wake.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18136193/chapters/44633836

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Tagged: @nightshadow4713 @silentwhispofhope @slightlylunatic @just-call-me-no-name @efiicitia @raven-huntress

foundations

So I wanna talk a little bit about Keith’s personal growth as a leader and how grounded he is this season, because I absolutely love it and how it shows how his recovery from personal trauma through the development of a strong relationship with his mother helped him mature in ways that he might not have been able to achieve without her presence.

“I left you once. I’ll never leave you again,” Krolia says when she meets Keith, and though he doesn’t know it at the time, she means it— and she stays. It’s the start of the establishment of a foundation and the kind of solid relationship Keith has never once had in his life, that’s going to change his life forever.

Because Keith is the product of the kind of emotional trauma and abandonment that you wouldn’t want to wish on your worst enemy, and despite his natural talent as a paladin, his drive, and his focus, it isn’t until he has a chance to reconnect with his mother and heal the holes and gaps he’s had in his life that he’s truly able to unlock the potential and confidence that has been buried within him until now.

From the very beginning, Keith is a character of few words, who’s a bit of a mystery and far more a young man of action. He doesn’t talk about his past, he doesn’t talk about his family, he doesn’t talk about who he is or where he came from— all we know is that Shiro has been in his life for a long time and that without him there, his life would have been very different.

Over time, we find out that all of this has to do with the fact that he doesn’t actually have any answers to who he is. He was orphaned at a young age. His mother left before he even knew her. The only thing he has to go on is his relationship to Shiro and now, his duty as a Paladin. There’s a fundamental void of information there; no core foundation he can fall back on to explain who he is, why he is the way he is, or where he came from.

Essentially, Keith is a character whose life has constantly been in flux; the only thing he’s ever known to do is to live in survival mode; and so, he has carved a life out of the only things he knows he can hold onto.

Until the two years he spends alone with Krolia to recalibrate and reflect, the primary way Keith identifies himself is through his relationship with Shiro and his role as a Paladin, because those two things are the only source of consistency he’s ever had in his life. Without those two things, he doesn’t know who he is and he doesn’t know his purpose in life.

When either of those identities are threatened, his entire sense of self identity is completely unended, and things go south really fast. This imbalance puts him at a strong disadvantage and is a big reason why he loses sight of his goals or loses control multiple times:

The Garrison: Though we haven’t seen details for this, we can assume that it was the news of the failure of the Kerberos Mission that resulted in Keith ‘washing out’ of the Garrison— his grief and feeling of loss is so strong that he acts out and is forced to leave. With Shiro gone (and presumably dead), it’s like Keith has no reason to even try or stay. And so he doesn’t. It’s when Shiro crash lands back on Earth that he taps back in and is once again motivated and ready to go; even though he’s been doing his own research on the Blue Lion, it’s Shiro’s reappearance that sort of sets the whole thing off as a group effort, whereas before, he was going about it completely alone.

The Blade of Marmora: This is not a failure- it’s more of a choice that he makes, and though it’s ultimately the right one, it is indicative of where Keith’s priorities ultimately lie. Keith spends literal months trying to figure out where his knife came from, and when he discovers the Blade, he goes through a trial of fire to unlock its secrets, only to readily give it up when he is told his only option is to either choose the blade or to choose Shiro. He chooses Shiro without a doubt. There’s no question in his mind. But even later, when he chooses to be a member of the Blade and leaves Voltron behind, he can’t 100% get behind the ethos of the Blade, as it conflicts with the moral values of Voltron—which prevents him from becoming a fully integrated Blade the way he’s supposed to be. He recognizes this and is uneasy with it, but it’s not until Krolia shows up in his life and he realizes that it’s okay to be his own person and to follow his own moral code.

Piloting the Black Lion: When Keith is initially chosen to pilot the Black Lion, it just doesn’t sit well with him. He can’t accept his responsibility or his new role; he feels as though he’s replacing Shiro, and he just can’t come to terms with it at all. He’s the red paladin, not the black paladin; Shiro is the leader of Voltron, not him. Despite Shiro’s previous efforts to encourage and prepare Keith in the event of something like this happening, he still can’t accept the mantle of responsibility in his new role- doing so would mean accepting that things have permanently changed for Voltron, and Keith is unwilling to do that. And so once it seems like Shiro’s back in action, Keith decides to leave and pursue a longer mission with the Blade of Marmora. Because now even though Shiro is back, his role as a Paladin is no longer clear, especially when ‘Shiro’- who we now know was actually a clone-?questions his judgment and instincts. This is because at this point in his life, Keith is still not confident about his ability to lead, even though he has already proven himself both worthy and capable, if not completely experienced as a leader. He doesn’t question Shiro, doesn’t question whether his instincts are the right one. And so, once again, Keith must recalibrate, find some sort of purpose, and he does so by leaving the team completely to go off on his own.

As you can see, all of these choices that Keith makes are in relation to his relationship with Shiro or his role as a Paladin. And in context, it makes sense that he would make these choices, based on the information he has and his experiences up to this point. He’s restless and unsatisfied, filled with the turmoil of uncertainty of just not knowing what the whole point of it all is. Because if everything falls apart, what does Keith have left?

Nothing, as far as he knows. Keith has no foundation.

No wonder he doesn’t want to pilot the Black Lion. No wonder he doesn’t know who he is without the guidance of his best friend and mentor. No wonder he’s afraid to say or do anything that will alienate the only people he has left in his life.

And then comes Krolia, back into his life, his own mother, a fellow Blade, a Warrior, and someone who knows exactly what it means to have to make tough choices in tough times.

Growth and maturity is without a doubt a combination of nature and nurture. Until this point, Keith has been functioning primarily through his own natural instincts and the mentorship of Shiro— which, while fundamental to his personal growth, is not at all the same thing as the guidance of an actual parent, whose relationship and personal motivations are different from that of someone who really isn’t that much older than you.

It changes everything.

For the first time in his life, Keith doesn’t have to make life or death decisions every day of his life. He doesn’t have to make decisions for a group of people he considers family but isn’t 100% sure he belongs to, doesn’t have to prove his worth to a fellowship of warriors.

He just gets some time, with his own mother, to just be.

For someone who has gone through that level of trauma, that is so healing and therapeutic just by itself.

As the creators themselves have mentioned, these two years allowed Keith to have a genuine bonding experience with his own mother, who understands his perspective in a way nobody else ever possibly could. It gives him perspective. It gives him focus.

There’s a certainty and a groundedness about Keith when he returns, and I can’t help but wonder just how many glimpses of the future Keith saw, and how many memories of the past it was juxtaposed against.

Over two years, both of them would have seen multiple glimpses of past and future. Sitting on the back of the space whale with nothing else to do, Keith would have had the chance to talk through these memories with his mother, to just sit and process the events of his life with an impartial (and loving) person in his life who is truly invested in his personal emotional growth.

We know for certain that he had two years to ruminate over his eventual confrontation with Shiro, though he didn’t know what it would bring, and it’s almost certain that he would have talked about it with Krolia, and he ultimately is prepared and calm when the time finally comes to face him.

It’s a stark contrast compared to when Keith goes through the Blade of Marmora trials, when we get a glimpse into his deepest fears. Shiro confirms the worst inner fears he has about himself and it cuts him to the core, even though it’s just a hologram.

He immediately reverses course:

Compare to now:

Keith is completely and utterly unfazed.

Even though ‘Shiro’ is saying crueler, meaner things than ever before, Keith has not only been waiting for this and anticipating it for two years, he has no reason to believe a single word. His mother has been by his side, proving every word of it wrong. 

Keith’s only resolve now is to bring Shiro back with him. He knows the truth. He no longer has any inner conflicts that could even make him for a second consider that the cruel words being thrown at him could have even an iota of truth.

He is dauntless now. Because he finally has a foundation.

And in the end, he confidently leads the battle against Lotor and has no hesitation in stepping into the role he was always meant to play, but wasn’t quite ready before.

With his mother (and his cosmic wolf!) by his side, Keith is far more mature, confident, and ready to take on his responsibilities as the leader of Voltron.

I can’t wait to see what he does next.

Try to Remember (2)

Summary:  Continuation: A forgotten memory surfaces and breaks Rae’s heart.  How will the boys, with their own heartbroken history, help her heal? (Read Part 1 HERE) Warnings: Graphic descriptions of injuries/fatal injuries; grief; parent death; depression; angsty fluff Pairing:  OFC Rae Himmel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel  Rating: Mature due to descriptions of canon-type gore Word count: 1300-ish

A/N:  We all love the funny moments with the brothers.  But their sensitivity to someone else’s pain has always broken my heart a little, and I wanted to explore that. This is a companion piece to Life is Good (for you) & Just Desserts. You don’t have to read them to understand this story. This is my OFC Rae’s “origin” story. 

A huge, sparkly, fluffy hug to my 2 betas @pinknerdpanda and @thesassywallflower. Ladies, you get all the Sam cuddles!

This is a work of fiction based upon characters created and owned by the CW. My work is not to be copied/distributed elsewhere without my written permission.

To listen to for this part: Try to Remember by Harry Belafonte

After a half hour of just sitting on the shower floor, letting the hot water pour over her, Rae finally found the energy to get up. Busting out her fancy, boutique soap and expensive, impressive in-shower lotion, she scrubbed. The debrided bits of painful memory from her careful box washed away, soothed with shea butter and the newer notes of Winchester hugs. A little achy, a little empty, Rae felt both tethered and light as she bundled her favorite fleece robe around her. A knock on her door frame caught her attention as she combed out her wet hair.

“Cas! I didn’t know you were here!”

The angel took in her genuine smile along with the puffy, drawn pallor as he accepted her hug.

“Do you mind if we sit a moment, Rae?”

“Of course, please.”

A methodical, analytical thinker herself, Rae had never chafed under Castiel’s considering stares. She only smiled as the blue eyed angel tilted his head as he pondered her.

“I know you have questions, Rae. About your parents’ death.” Rae only nodded, waiting for him to continue. “I also want to tell you how sorry I am for your loss. It’s always awful to watch someone you love die.”

Rae dropped her gaze to her hands, feeling the echo of her pain in her ribs. It thrummed anew as she thought about the times Cas had watched his own loved ones die. Two of them repeatedly.

“No, it never is.”

“I have those answers for you, Rae. Dean and Sam had me follow up on your case while they cared for you.” Cas sighed gently as he glanced around her room. “Knowledge. It doesn’t always end pain. In the millenia I’ve watched God’s children on this Earth, I’ve learned something. I think that the resonance an answer carries depends upon the heart that receives it. A soul fueled by anger, by fear - answers can trap them. Anger and fear take over their lives. But a soul led be compassion and hope accepts the pain along with the truth. They let it be their freedom.”

Cas’ words cast about in her ears. More weary than she could ever remember being, Rae braced herself for anger, more tears; but numbness lapped at her instead. The achy spot where her cobbled box sat empty in her chest pinched at her, but with no true threat. She lifted her eyes and met Cas’ gaze unblinkingly.

“What is my soul led by, Cas?”

After a moment, the angel smiled at her with heart-tugging gentleness, and took her hand.

“The Thule Society is a splinter group of the Nazi Party.  They’ve practiced the dark arts and necromancy since before the second World War. Another group of Jewish Rabbis known as the Judah Initiative have fought against them for decades, their mission to stop their evil ways once and for all. The Thule High Command also made up Hitler’s inner circle, with their chief goal being to bring Hitler back from the dead. The leader of this effort was a man called Nauhause. After he died, his son, Christoph, swore he would abandon all heinous deeds of his father. Sam and Dean believed him.

A few weeks before your parents’ death, a member of the Judah Initiative contacted the Winchesters. He said he’d discovered that a sect of the Thules had happened upon a list of supposed Judah Initiative operatives who had immigrated to America after the war, and was systematically killing who they saw as enemies. The name of one of them was Aleksender Himmel.”

Cas’ heart thumped in sympathy as Rae’s eyes widened.

“My...my father’s name was…”

“Alexander Himmel.”

Rae honestly didn’t think she could hurt anymore, but the tightness in her throat wringing out fresh tears proved her wrong. Cas squeezed her hand, offering her wordless comfort.

“The worst part of the whole thing, Cas? My father was adopted. He wasn’t Jewish by birth,” a sob choked off the word as Rae covered her face and cried. “My parents were murdered by a monster because of a spelling mistake.”

Cas twitched as her pain emanated in cold, chilling waves, poking pinches against his vessel. After a moment, Cas couldn’t subdue the urge any longer.

“It’s appropriate in many societal groups to offer an embrace to one in pain. I would like to offer you an embrace, Rainbow, as I’m reasonably certain this societal group finds it acceptable.”

Rae snuffled out a chuckle as she flopped her arms around Cas’ shoulders.

“Your reasonable certainty is correct, and I accept, Cas.”

The two friends sat in a companionable silence for a moment before Rae leaned back, wiping at her eyes. She offered him a shy smile that was all fatigue and flusterment.

“Thank you, Cas. I mean it.”

“Rae, nothing will ever erase the pain of your loss, I know. But I can tell you I’ve seen their souls in heaven. They remember nothing of that moment, and their heaven is all moments with you.”

Bittersweetness trembled on her lips as Rae nodded her thanks. Dean suddenly poked his head around the doorway.

“I hate to break this up, but movie night is on in the Dean Cave in five. C’mon, you two.”

Rae huffed a chuckle as she let the men bundle her along the hall to the Dean Cave. The elder Winchester had commandeered one of the rooms, tricking it out with a couch, recliners, and a non-possessed flat screen that shone in a place of honor in all its HD splendor. Rae was given the comfiest seat, the middle of the recliner-couch combo unit. The brothers had gone all out - someone made an emergency run, and an array of theatre candy was waiting for them. Twizzlers, Junior Mints, M&M’s, Dean’s nasty black licorice, and Skittles.  Each one of them had their own bowl of popcorn, and Sam produced a surprise with a smiling flourish.

“3-D glasses! And, I did some research. The best movies to watch in 3-D are ‘Iron Man’, ‘Kung Fu Panda’, and ‘How to Train Your Dragon’. We’ve got all three. Rae, you pick the first one!” Sam urged, holding out the DVD cases excitedly.

Rae went with ‘How to Train Your Dragon’ first with a promise to Dean that ‘Iron Man’ would be second. While Cas blandly pointed out that night fury dragons didn’t really look like that, and that their belly scales were more dark blue in color, Dean started a personal contest on how many popcorn bits he could flick into Sam’s hair without him noticing. Dean and Sam got into a heated debate on how possible Tony Stark’s tech actually was. Rae stealthily dropped Skittles into Dean’s beer, laughing until tears smarted her eyes when he gagged at the first chewy, fizzy swallow. And as Master Shifu said goodbye to Oogway in a beautiful billow of blossoms, Sam slid his fingers into Rae’s hand.

“See? ‘There are no accidents’. You’re here. We’re here,” he whispered to her, wishing he could see her eyes behind the 3-D glasses.

Rae was glad he couldn’t. Her heart wasn’t ready to look too closely at the softer, warmer feelings she had been ignoring for weeks. She knew she couldn’t forget the pain of her past. To heal, she needed to remember. But, not just the pain. She would try to remember the love of her parents. Her dad’s Old Spice cologne, her mom dropping socks, and them holding hands. She would try to remember Cas’ compassion, and the safety and comfort she felt right now - resting among her friends, sugar high in her veins, laughter in her ears.

For now, Rae offered Sam a soft, tender smile, and snuggled herself in a hug around his arm. Rubbed her cheek against his shoulder just a breath. And studiously ignored Dean’s approving, ‘go get him’ wink.

She would try to remember it all.

Fight you

Warnings: angst, a little dramtic lol, horrible writing tbh

Prompt: “I will fight you”

Summary: You’re on Caps team while Peter is on Team Iron Man. Will you really go as far hurting each other or can your friendship still be saved?

Words: 1.7k

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

A/N: Takes place during Civil War. This is for @thedevilwearsvibranium writing challenge! Congrats!! 💓 

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You made your way over to Peters apartment. Your backpack felt heavier on your shoulders with every step you took, mirroring your nervousness and the uneasy feeling in your stomach.

You had to tell Peter something, which could lead into not only an argument, but a fight.

The way to his apartment was too short for you liking. When you reached the front door of the building you hadn’t prepared your words at all.

But there was no way out of this so you sighed and pushed the door open.

May let you in with a big smile on her face, returning to the kitchen to continue baking what smelled like cookies.

You walked over to Peters room, taking a deep breath before knocking on his door.

“Come in”, you heared his voice and you opened the door, seeing Peter bent over his computer.

His face lit up when he saw that it was you and he stopped his work instantly.

“Hey, did I forget something?”, he wondered, but you shook your head.

“No, I just came to- you know- tell you something”, you stated, sitting down on Peters bed insecure.

He sensed that whatever you had to tell him was serious so he sat down next to you, patiently waiting for you to speak up.

“Clint called me”, you began and Peters face twisted in realization. He knew where this was going.

Since Peter had revealed to you that he was spiderman, you had helped him as much as possible, including accompanying him when he first met the avengers.

While Peter spend most of the time with Tony working on a new suit you waited in the living room.

The other avengers didn’t have much time, being busy with missions and other secret stuff, but Clint was always there for you, talking and helping you overcome the time Peter was gone.

You two had grown close so it was only logical that he was the first one you turned to when you discovered that something was different about you.

A wave of energy you had never felt before was flooding your body, giving you a sudden strength you didn’t know how to handle.

You didn’t tell Peter at first, since he had already many problems on his own, but after you pushed him a little too hard while tickling each other, you couldn’t hide the truth from him anymore.

You later found out that you were able to manipulate the constant vibrations of the universe, which allowed you to produce shockwaves and gave you the ability to affect objects by shaking and moving them.

“What did he say?”, Peter asked, although he already knew the answer to his question. 

“He wanted to recruit me on Caps team”, you stated, your eyes scanning Peters face for any hint on what he felt.

“But you said no, didn’t you?”, he concluded with an stiff laugh.

You stayed silent, knowing that this was the part you had feared the most.

“You said no, didn’t you?”, Peter repeated more forcefully this time and you adverted your gaze to the ground.

“I can’t let them down”, you mumbled instead and you heared Peter snort. “You can’t be serious”, he whispered, while getting up from the bed to pace the room.

“What else should I have done?”, you snapped, giving him a pleading look to understand your decision.

“Say no?”, Peter suggested with a huff.

“You know I can’t do that”, you reasoned and he stopped pacing. “You know what that means, do you?”, he asked and you slowly nodded.

“It means that we will be enemies (y/n)! We will have to fight each other in two days!”, Peter went on, the rage and desperation visible in his voice.

“I won’t fight you”, you whispered, turning your gaze back to his.

“But I will”, he declared and you felt your jaw clapping open.

“I will fight you.”

“Why?”, you murmured, starring up at Peter with big eyes. The shock must have been visible on your face, because he shifted uncomfortably.

“Mr. Stark- they are all counting on me”, Peter tried to argue, but you shook your head.

“So this is your decision?”, you asked, tears making their way into your eyes.

He put his chance to prove himself over your friendship?

“I don’t have a choice”, Peter hissed, but you shook your head again.

“You always have a choice”, you commented, grabbing your backpack, and left the room, not looking back at the heartbroken boy once again.

-

“Are you sure about this? You can always back out, you know that right?”

Clints voice woke you out of your thoughts, but you kept putting on your suit.

“I have to do this”, you cut him off and he knew that it was time to let it go.

You had just arrived in germany, everyone preparing for the plan.

In only a matter of time you had to face Peter, your best friend, your enemy.

Your only hope was that maybe you could fight somebody else and didn’t have to face him in a hand-to-hand combat.

But soon you found yourself standing in the group of your team, directly facing Tony and the others. 

You couldn’t discover Peter anywhere and for a split of a second you hoped that maybe he had changed his mind, but suddenly you saw a small figure jumping through the air, landing gracefully on the opposite side.

Peter was dressed in his new spiderman suit, Captain americas shield in his hands, which he had stolen during his arrival.

A few words were exchanged, but you didn’t really pay attention. All you could focus on was the boy in front of you.

It broke your heart to see him like this, not even paying attention to you. 

All he was focused on was proving himself to Tony and as much as you saw that he wanted to please the man, who was like a father figure to him, you couldn’t understand how easily he threw away your friendship.

Surely, you were the one agreeing on joying Caps team, but you had never imagined that you had to fight Peter. You would have refused, but here you were. 

He seemed to have made his decision, so why shouldn’t you do too?

The fight followed soon. Everyone began running towards their opponents and you did the same. You picked Natasha, who was trying to throw punches at Clint.

Within a second you had send a shockwave at her, sending her several meters through the air until she fell to the ground.

You wanted to go at her again, but a pain shot through your back and you were thrown to the ground.

Black panther was standing behind you, ready to attack you again.

You send a shockwave at him but he ducked away in time and began attacking you.

While his fists collided with your body you wondered why no one had thought about teaching you self defence.

You tried your best to escape his grip, but it was too firm. Helplessly you felt your panic increase, but in a last attempt to get rid of your oponent you kicked him.

The second he was distracted you used to free yourself from his grip, rolling to the side and standing up again quickly.

Before he could attack you, you send a shockwave at him, sending him through the air away from you.

The fight seemed to endure ages, but also went on too quickly.

You needed to be focused every second. Every little distraction could be determining how this would end.

Sweat was dripping down your forehead and your hair was flying wild around your shoulders, but the adrenaline kept you going.

Suddenly you saw a red-blue figure and not a second later you stood directly face to face with him.

Spiderman.

Peter Parker.

You were only a few inches apart, but it felt like something was seperating you. A barrier, a thin line turning you into enemies.

You had prepared for this to happen, considered his weaknesses and planned how you could overpower the spiderboy. 

But now, when you were directly facing him, you felt frozen.

You couldn’t attack him. It felt wrong, no, it was wrong. This was your best friend and you wouldn’t try to hurt him no matter what.

Even if that meant losing. Peter was worth it.

“I’m not gonna fight you”, you spoke up, your voice calm and steady.

Somehow you didn’t feel nervous nor afraid. You didn’t fear Peter attacking you and you didn’t fear giving up.

It didn’t make you weak, but strong.

No one could ever be able to make you turn against Peter, your best friend, the person you felt at home with.

Peters face twisted in confusion, but he seemed determined. “But I will”, he said and you nodded, waiting for him to get it over with.

Peter stepped a little closer, his hand ready to shoot a web at you, but you could see the determination on his face leaving him.

Deep inside he knew this was wrong.

“I have to do this”, Peter whispered, the inner conflict displaying on his features.

You nodded, relaxed and prepared for what would follow.

“Then do it”, you encouraged him with a small smile.

This somehow irriated Peter even more and you could see his hand shaking.

“C’mon it’s just a little web”, you chuckled, but you knew that this wasn’t about what impact it would have on you. It was about if he would do it. If he was willing to let this destroy your friendship. If a simple decision could make him attack his best friend.

“I can’t”, Peter confessed, his hand falling to his side again.

Tears had filled his vision and his face was twisted in confusion.

You carefully walked over to him, embracing the boy in your arms with a smile.

He was surprised at first, but then pulled you close to him.

“I knew you wouldn’t do it”, you muttered proudly, forgetting that you were in the midst of a battlefield.

Peter made you forget, about all the pain and hopelessness in the world.  When you were with him it didn’t matter.

You were at home.

Little did you know Tony had been watching the two of you, but instead of disappointment a proud smile was covering his face.

He had been right about Peter all along. He was better than him.

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Dembe and Katarina.

"You’re a good friend who takes better care of me than I deserve."

Dembe’s scene with Liz in 6x7 putting many other scenes in different context. 

Given this latest episode, I’ve decided to do a post of Dembe and Katarina. Until just recently, hadn’t noticed just how often they placed him in scenes that are specific to her.

The Major, 2x15.

Dembe: You need to tell her, Raymond. Red: Tell her what? Dembe: About Tom. You should have told her some time ago. Red: I don’t know how do that, Dembe. Dembe: Yes, you do. You tell her the truth by telling her everything. Red: I don’t think I can do that. Dembe: Maybe you should stop thinking about it and do it.

This ties into Red’s conversation with Kate in Requiem.  By telling her “Everything.” Because “Everything about me is a lie.”

Requiem, 4x17.

Telling her the truth about Tom by telling her “everything.” 

Red: As I feared would happen, elements from Katarina’s past are circling Elizabeth like a pack of wolves in the night. I put Tom Keen in her life to keep an eye on her, and he married her. Kate: This isn’t about Tom Keen. It’s about your need for control. Red: Indeed. I need to control the danger to Elizabeth. I’ve built a vast criminal network predicated on that very principal. It’s time to live up to my mission statement.

Leonard Caul, 2x19.

Red: You were right, Dembe. I should’ve told her. Dembe: I understand why you didn’t. Red: No, you don’t. The blessing of an honest man.

Dembe also oversaw the conversation Tom had with Red. 

Tom: You know, that day at the hospital, the day Sam died - I think about that day a lot. I worked for you two years - we never met. You were always this shadow, moving from place to place - talked about, but never seen. And then -there you were. To see you sitting there after I’d betrayed your trust, gone to work for Berlin - I was terrified. I sat there listening to you threaten me, threaten anyone who could hurt Liz. And all I could think, was you - you are the one who hurts Liz the most. She’s here in this right now because of you. And I know I played a part in that, and I’m not saying I didn’t, but - trying to fix that. So I told her the truth about us. I’m telling you this because I don’t want you to be confused about my part in any of this - you, Liz - all of it. I’m out. I’m done.

Quon Zhang, 2x20.

Liz: Dembe asked me to go to get the interface for the Fulcrum. Red: He needed you to get the Fulcrum. He wanted you to discover secrets. Did you discover any secrets, Lizzy?

Quon Zhang, 2x20.

The secret Dembe wanted her to find. A photo of who they used to be. 

Red: The girl is you. And the woman is your mother. Liz: What was her name? Red: I knew her as Katarina Rostova. One of her many names. She was a KGB agent. Liz: The girl - The night of the fire, they called her Masha. Red: You were born in Moscow. Your parents - Uh, father and - they were both in foreign intelligence. Liz: You said she died of weakness and shame. Red: Yeah. Liz: You were there that night. I need to know what happened. Red: You want to know. There’s a difference. Liz: Dr. Orchard told me someone blocked my memory of that night. Was it you? Red: Yes. Liz: Why? Red: I’m not going to tell you. Liz: You have a picture of my mother in your weird, little apartment. Why? Were you in love with her? Is that why my father died? You killed him because you were in love with my mother.  Tell me what happened. Please. Red: I’m not gonna tell you what happened, Lizzy. Liz: Then I’ll find out for myself.

Lady Ambrosia, 3x14. 

Liz: I found a couple to take the baby. Thinking about it is one thing, but actually doing it ... How did she do it - my mother? Red: Your parents loved each other very much. The Cold War was hard - too hard for your father. When the Soviet Union was collapsing, he took you from her. She gave up everything to follow him, to follow you. Liz: The night of the fire - that’s what they were arguing about? Red: Your mother, despite what he’d done, she wanted him back. She wanted them to be a family. As much as it pains me to say it, he was probably the only man she ever really loved. Liz: And I shot him. Red: It was an accident. Liz: Tell me. I need to know. Red: Your mother was never the same after that. The man she loved killed by the child she adored - it was just too much. Two months later, she went to Cape May and left her clothes on the beach, walked into the ocean and was never seen again. Liz: So that night, I killed both my parents. Red: You were a child. There should never have been a gun for you to grab.  Looking back, I’m not sure I shouldn’t have raised you myself. I don’t want you looking back with that kind of regret.

The Caretaker, 3x16.

Liz: Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. Velov. About a year ago, I came to visit you in your restaurant. Velov: I remember. You were asking about Katarina Rostova. Liz: That’s right. I was hoping you could answer a few more questions for me. Velov: She was just a name. One of many I heard when I was with Spetsnaz. Beyond that, I know nothing. Liz: Please. She was my mother. Velov: Dear, I cannot help you. I would if I could, believe me. I, too, have daughter. The life I led, the things I had to do - she won’t talk to me. I try to explain, but there are some - some things which can never be forgiven. Liz: I’m sorry, um - why did you agree to meet with me if you can’t help me? Velov: My daughter. I don’t know where she is. I am dying. I have written her this letter. You are with FBI, no? You can find her. Give it to her. Please. It explains everything.

[Notice Velov spoke of dying. Just like Sam, offering up truth. Perhaps speaking from Red’s point of view, as if he truly understands Katarina’s choice.]

Darla: He told her nothing. Red: You’re certain? Darla: He spent most of the time talking about his own daughter. Red: Thank you, Darla. Dembe: She deserves the truth. Red: Watch the road, Dembe.

The Caretaker, 3x16.  

Liz: My mother’s alive. You lied to me. Red: Velov is the one who lied to you, Lizzy, not me. Katarina Rostova committed suicide in 1990. Liz: Velov was the agent assigned to find her. He was getting close, she knew it. That’s why she allegedly walked into the ocean. She wanted the world to believe she drowned. Red: But Velov knows differently. Liz: He tracked her to a hotel in Prague. She had just left. But in such a hurry, she missed this - A photo of her little girl. Me. Red: That could easily have been planted. Liz: You said the name Masha Rostova had been lost to history until the manhunt. Now it’s out there, and someone’s looking for me. It’s my mother. Who else would care? Who? You were right. Some things can’t be forgiven.

[Velov “knows” differently.] I believe he figured it out in conversation. 

Karakurt, 2x21.

Velov: You’re Raymond Reddington. Red: I am. And if I’m right, you’re the same Anton Velov who once led a Spetsnaz Special Forces Unit called The Zarubin Group. Velov: I’m surprised we never met. For many years, while you were still with US Counterintelligence, I considered you the KGB’s greatest enemy.

I believe Anton Velov and the real Raymond Reddington did meet. 

The Caretaker, 3x16.

After Velov gave Liz the truth about Katarina in an envelope, Red burned his.

Red: The Caretaker’s ledger. I’d like to borrow it. Cooper: If it were up to me, I’d burn it. I’ve learned the hard way that some secrets are best kept in the dark. Red: Mine certainly is.

Red: If anything happened to me, this was to go to Elizabeth. So she would know. Now I’m not sure I ever want her to know. Dembe: Perhaps, Raymond, in this case, what you want is irrelevant. If the universe wants her to know, she will find a way.

Esteban, 4x1. 

The kidnapping of Katarina’s daughter and granddaughter. 

Kate: I was trying to help. He has to know that. Dembe: I’m not on your side here, Kate.

In The Debt Collector (4x20), Dembe and Red discuss Kate’s war. 

Dembe: You’re having doubts. Red: I am. I haven’t loved many people in my life. Kate is one of them. You know, as much as her betrayal hurt, what really hurt was - knowing what I would have to do in response. She was wrong to think Elizabeth and her child were safer without me in their lives. But in the end, she was - she did what she did out of love for the little girl she swore to protect - what seems like a lifetime ago. Dembe: It broke my heart. That day in the woods. Hearing the gunshot. Leaving her behind. Right or wrong, it was between you and her. This war she started must stop. Kate must be stopped. Red: I agree. I’m just not at all sure of the right way. And depending on the way, whether I’d be up to it. I need to look her in the face and see if I still recognize her. Dembe: Raymond, she has gone too far all to prove that you have gone too far. She can’t see what she’s become. Red: What if I’m the one who can’t see? Dembe: No, Raymond. Remember why you surrendered yourself to the FBI in the first place. Remember what all of this was about. You can’t give up now. You can’t let Kate destroy everything that gives you purpose. Our work is not yet done. I loved Kate, too, but it’s time to end this. Stop it. Stop her.

“Remember why you surrendered yourself to the FBI in the first place.”

Back to Requiem, 4x17.

Red: As I feared would happen, elements from Katarina’s past are circling Elizabeth like a pack of wolves in the night. I put Tom Keen in her life to keep an eye on her, and he married her. Kate: This isn’t about Tom Keen. It’s about your need for control. Red: Indeed. I need to control the danger to Elizabeth. I’ve built a vast criminal network predicated on that very principal. It’s time to live up to my mission statement.

Mr. Kaplan: Conclusion, 4x22.

Dembe: You didn’t deny it? Red: I didn’t. Dembe: And she thinks that’s Kate secret? Red: Yes. Dembe: So she doesn’t know about the suitcase? Red: Not yet. It is gone. Dembe: Raymond, I’m not sure Elizabeth will ever be ready to learn about what you did to Katarina. Red: We gotta find that goddamn suitcase.

The Kilgannon Corporation, 5x7.

Red: You ever wonder why Dembe stays with me - why anyone so decent would spend his days at the side of someone so indecent? Liz: You saved him. He owes you his life. He protects you because you protected him. Red: No, Elizabeth. Dembe didn’t stay with me because he saw me as his savior. He stayed with me because he saw me for the man I really was - a man surrounded by darkness. No friends who could be trusted, no faith that loyalty or love could ever truly exist. I was - Well, I was younger then. Angrier. Dembe connected his life with mine to show me that day and every day, that the world is not what I fear it to be. He is the light in the darkness. Living proof that there is another way, that life can be good, that people can be kind, that a man like me might one day dream of becoming a man like him. He pledged his life, offered it up as evidence that I was wrong about this world. Dembe guards my life because he’s determined to save my soul.

Ian Garvey, 5x8.

Dembe listening in on Red’s conversation with Tom. Red answering Tom’s questions. 

Tom: Well, that was fun. Oh, man. If you don’t trust me by now ... This whole father-in-law hates his son-in-law thing, it’s a cliché. Could we just put a stake in it? You go first. Who’s in the suitcase? Red: I was in the Andes when I heard you and Elizabeth were engaged. Agents in the Columbian government had solicited my help negotiating the release of soldiers being held by FARC rebels. At the time, I was a rare intermediary having brokered sales of arms and equipment to both sides of the conflict. I was unable to return until the day of your wedding. Seeing her that day - Tom: Wait a minute. You were at our wedding? Red: She was incandescent. I’d come out of the mountains, blinded by rage, flown 2300 miles - absolutely certain that you must die. And then - I saw Elizabeth. I’m a violent man. A terrible, powerful, violent man. But the way she looked at you, the way she loves you - I’m powerless against that. Tom: You’re not gonna tell me who’s in the suitcase. Or are you? Red: I’ll say this for you - you’ve always believed that you were acting in her best interest. Selling me out to Berlin, faking her death - you always thought you were helping her. Tom: I appreciate you saying that. I should change. Red: You make her happy.

Red: What? You’re always telling me to make peace. I made peace. Dembe: You’re still lying to him and to Elizabeth. Until you stop lying, there will be no peace.

Ian Garvey, 5x8.

Dembe: What makes you think they’re at the house? Red: He’s in trouble, he’s desperate. But he won’t leave without Elizabeth and Agnes. Dembe: You haven’t asked my opinion. Red: No, I haven’t. Dembe: Why can’t you be honest with her? Red: I don’t know. I don’t know. Dembe: Even after everything that’s happened? All that’s been lost? Red: How far until the damn house?

Ian Garvey, 5x8.

Dembe: He’s lost a lot of blood. Red: Call Harold. Tell him we’re going to the hospital. Demb: Raymond, they’re not going to make it. Red: Call him.

Comforting Red while Katarina’s daughter is getting her head drilled into. 

Alter Ego, 6x5.

Red: Ah! What a pleasant sight. Dembe: My friend. Red: Thank goodness for the prison chaplain. Dembe: He said you designated me to provide spiritual advice. Red: Oh, it had the dual benefit of getting you in here and also being true. Van Ness is dead. Without him, I don’t have the votes to prevent Androssani from cutting me off. I need you to reassure Androssani. Reason with him. And if that doesn’t work, kill him. That should scare up a vote or two. Dembe: Then what? Red: We’ll see. Dembe: And then what? Red: You do know I didn’t really ask you here to give me spiritual advice, right? Dembe: I’m going to give you some anyway. Be honest. Red: I need that vote. Dembe: Tell Elizabeth the truth. Red: Everything rests on this. Dembe: Money rests on this. Power. Not peace of mind. Red: Something has to be done. Dembe: It is. You are fighting for your freedom. Every day I pray that you get it. For now, you must leave the rest to fate. Red: I make my own fate. Dembe: Not from here. Red: I’m asking you to do this. Dembe: And I am trying to save your soul.

General Shiro, 6x7.

Liz: He said I reminded him of my mother. That’s what he said when I asked him why he gave us this case. Dembe: He’s right. You remind me of her too. Liz: You know everything. Don’t you? Everything about him. All the answers I’m looking for. Dembe: I do.

Mick’s Secret Girl

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16100462

A little story I’ve slowly been working on for awhile now. 

Mick has been exhibiting some... odd, behaviors lately. Nothing bad, definitely nothing bad, but strange, at least for Mick. Now, on top of it, he's up and disappeared. Sara has no idea where he's gone, but the excuse he has for her when he gets back is a load of bull, right?

Sara thought it was weird when Mick stopped drinking.

Ok, to be fair, she doesn’t actually have any proof that he’s stopped. He didn’t quit cold turkey, or at least, she doesn’t think he did. She could be wrong, considering she hadn’t even noticed on her own that he wasn’t buzzed literally every second of the day anymore.

Of course she isn’t an idiot, nor is she blind. She had noticed that he’d been a lot more agreeable lately, while simultaneously being a little gruffer and on edge at team meetings. She did pick up on his voicing his opinion a little more frequently, and while she had absently wondered about the gradual change in his demeanor she still didn’t notice he’d stopped drinking until Leo stopped by the ship to give them a hand with an Earth-X fugitive and made a comment to her about it.

“So,” he had said in that drawl of a voice that still reminds her a little too much of their Leonard. “I see Mick finally got the help he needed.”

She had almost asked him what he was talking about, her eyes suddenly flying to the sight of Mick at the other end of the galley, and that was when it clicked. Leo had been so obsessed with getting Mick to change, namely by addressing his love of beer, and here the other man was sitting at a far table and drinking water.

She almost thought it was a fluke, that maybe Ray had given it to him or he just wanted water in that moment. So she kept her eyes on him for the next few days, making mental notes of what she saw him drinking.

It’s been over a week, and she still hasn’t witnessed him touch a drop of alcohol.

Mick Rory, the man who blew their cover with a group of Vikings all because he wanted some ale after having his beer confiscated for an hour, hasn’t gone near alcohol in over seven days.

It’s a miracle, it’s amazing, it’s, it’s….

It’s driving her insane.

It’s not like it’s a bad thing, obviously, but she just doesn’t understand why or from where this sudden change came about.

She tries not to think about it, after all, it isn’t hurting the team and so therefor it isn’t her business.

At least, that’s what she tells herself up until the day she can’t find him.

It isn’t an emergency; there isn’t any life or death situation at hand or anything like that. But Axel has wormed his way out of his cage again and with the entire team looking for him, except for Mick, she decided to go to his room and drag him from what she could only assume would be a very deep sleep.

He wasn’t in there.

Now she’s scouring the entire ship looking for him, at least Ray caught Axel and put him back where he belongs.

“Gideon,” she finally says, closing the floor panel in the office that she hasn’t touched since the day she hid down there with Leonard. “Do you have any idea where Mick is?”

“Mr. Rory is asleep in his quarters and wishes not to be disturbed.”

Sara furrows her brow at that, because she knows for a fact that Mick is not asleep in his room.

“Gideon?” She asks again, her voice drawling suspiciously. “Are you lying to me?”

There’s a pause, as though Gideon is trying to come up with an explanation.

But, ultimately, she can’t.

“I am sorry Captain,” she says, “Mr. Rory instructed me to tell that to anyone looking for him, as well as to alert him if a mission came up. He commissioned the jump ship earlier today, saying that he expected to be back by tonight.”

“Where did he go?” Sara demands her eyes narrowing as she rises from where she’s crouched on the floor.

“He didn’t say,” Gideon replies, voice regretful. “He also erased the jump ship’s logs.”

When the jump ship clicks back into it’s rightful place Mick makes sure to slip the access key back into the glove compartment, tucked into the 3rdpage of the owners manual, where it belongs. He’s right on time getting back, though he wishes he could’ve stayed later. But he doesn’t want anyone catching on to his little trips just yet, not before he figures out how to handle it anyway.

Too late.

He jumps back with a shout the second in which he opens the door, because Sara is standing right there just far enough away for the opening hatchway to avoid clipping her face, her arms folded over her chest and a deadly look in her eye.

“Jeez Boss,” he says, regaining his composure and stumbling out onto the actual ship. Sara steps back to make room for him, not saying anything when he turns to close the hatch for the jump ship. They both know he can only procrastinate this for so long, and she is going to let him drag out every guilty second of it.

He sighs while turning back around, dreading this conversation more than she can possibly know.

“So,” he says awkwardly, swinging his arms in front of him and hitting the palm of one hand against the other fist. She lets him do this a few times, letting him suffer with the knowledge of being caught until he can’t bear it anymore. “Busy day?”

“Where were you?” She finally says; voice unimpressed by his stalling, like she had been expecting at least a halfway decent excuse.

He wishes he had one to offer, he isn’t ready to tell her the truth yet, too worried about how she’ll react.

Damn, he really is going soft.

“I was uh… I was visiting my girlfriend.” He tries to sound confident, but it doesn’t really come off and instead he sounds more like he’s making it up, as evidenced by the eyebrow she raises at him.

“You were visiting your girlfriend?” She asks, pronouncing each syllable of every word, like she wants to make sure there won’t be any way for him to mishear her.

“Yeah,” he confirms with a nod, though she’s still looking at him as though he’s lost his marbles.

“Does your girlfriend have a name?” She finally asks, apparently deciding she is going to go along with what she has to be thinking is a load of bull.

Maybe he should’ve tried lying, oh well.

He shakes his head, and again she quirks an eyebrow.

“No?” She asks, then she waits for a response and of course he doesn’t give one. “So you stole the jump ship and had Gideon lie about it, so that you could go somewhere and visit a nameless girl?”

He lets his eyes wander up to the ceiling so that he can avoid her gaze, hoping that maybe if he stays quiet long enough she’ll let him go without any more questions.

It’s entirely too long that they stand there in silence, her watching him and waiting for an explanation and him doing all that he can to avoid giving one. It isn’t that he never wants her to know, not if things work out anyway, but right now things are still new and he can’t say if she really has to know yet or not.

“Yup.”

She stares at him blankly, like she’s trying to decide if she wants to force the information out of him or let him get away with it. He waits until she hasn’t said anything in over minute, and when it still doesn’t look like she’s going to demand any more answers he decides to try getting out of here.

“Well goodnight,” he says with a wave, excusing himself and heading off down the hall to his room.

After getting caught Mick knows he needs to be more careful about when he leaves the ship, and for how long, yet even with every instinct he has screaming at him to lay low he just can’t stay away from 2018, or the warm bed awaiting him there.

His eyes flutter open with the early morning light creeping through the edges of the shades, something he’s learned to appreciate ever since he established his life on the Waverider.

Another thing he has right now that he’s learned to appreciate is the warm feeling of another naked body against his, the subtle rise and fall of breathing lungs under his hand, and the faint scent of coconut lingering on the blonde hair he has found his nose buried in.

Suddenly that hair moves, Laurel waking up and rolling to look at him. He’ll never admit to being soft, but he knows that’s exactly what he’s become when he feels his heart skip upon seeing Laurel smiling at him. He matches her expression even as she leans up to kiss him.

“Morning,” she mumbles, her voice still thick and dreamy with sleep.

“Morning.” He returns, still grinning at her like an idiot, until she frowns thoughtfully.

“I thought you would’ve left.”

He hums at her words, “You want me to leave?”

“No silly,” she giggles at him, and it brings the smile back to his face. She takes a second to stretch her arms out then, nearly smacking him in the face, but he’ll let that slide because of how often he does leave in the middle of the night. “I just know it’s dangerous if you stay away from the ship for too long.”

He can feel his expression turn thoughtful as another hum escapes him. That’s a loaded word she’s used, dangerous, but it’s accurate. He keeps one of The Professor’s temporal walkie-talkies here so Gideon can notify him if he’s needed, but that isn’t to say he doesn’t ever get… distracted. As she’s pointed out, he rarely ever stays the whole night, and he isn’t going to pretend he didn’t wake up and check for an alert twice last night. He’s always afraid the thing isn’t going to work and the team is going to need him, that he’ll get back and someone will be laid up in the med bay with an injury he should have been there to prevent, or worse.

Then there are the more rational fears. The fear that somebody, probably Haircut, Pretty, or even New Girl, will break their way into his room while he’s here and realize that he isn’t locked up in there. Which brings him to his most consuming fear as of late.

“Your sister’s getting suspicious.”

Laurel whines at his reminder, and he chuckles. They’ve talked about this already, to an extent. He told her one night while they were talking via the walkie-talkies about Sara discovering his absence. They agreed, though neither of them was happy about it, to cut back his visits.

That was last week, so they aren’t off to the best start.

“What do you want to do?”

Laurel’s question snaps Mick’s attention from his thoughts and back to her. She’s lying stiff now, picking at her nails and actively avoiding his eyes.

Now that is a loaded question.

He may have called her his girlfriend to get Sara off his back, but they’ve both been avoiding labeling this thing between them. At first they were just having fun, letting off steam. It started after all the Nazi shit, nothing more than a half drunken hook-up at Scarlet’s wedding (Laurel was completely sober, he was a little more buzzed than usual). But holy hell was it a good hook-up, so they agreed neither of them was going to read into it when it happened again, and again, and again. He stayed maybe one of those times, too tired by the end of it to get up before the sun and head back to the ship. Then her dad died, and Sara was hailed home. She asked him if he would come over that night, not for sex, just to keep her company, and he went.

That was when they realized how deep they’d gotten in with each other.

They’ve been avoiding talking about it, even though they talk about almost everything else. He knows things about her he’s never cared enough to learn about anyone else, and he’s told her some things about him he once thought he’d be taking to his grave.

He doesn’t do feelings, though, and it isn’t like she’s had the best luck with them. So deciding what to do now, if they’re gonna admit where they are or if they’re going to fall back on the familiar safety of running, is one of the scariest things Mick’s ever faced; likely because he knows the answer.

She’s still picking at her nails when he looks back at her, acting like she hasn’t just put the nature of their relationship into his hands. He smirks at the purposely-neutral expression on her face, and leans down to press a kiss against her lips.

She smiles against his mouth, giggling into the kiss when he settles a hand on her waist and then pulls back.

“Well, I know I don’t want to give this up.”

Her beaming continues at his answer, her arms winding up and around his neck while her legs do the same at his waist, and then in one swift motion she flips them over. The sheets fly halfway off of them with her movement, knotting around his legs, but Mick can’t bring himself to care. He hardly notices the chill that should come with the sudden loss of coverage, her skin against his more than enough to keep him warm.

They’ll work out the details later about how they’re supposed to come clean to Sara, along with when, but for now he needs to be getting back to the Waverider before anyone notices he’s gone. Meaning he doesn’t have time to focus on anything other than getting Laurel off one more time before he goes.

The Fairy Gardener

Chapter Summary: A proper fairy would never use the Dark One’s silk shirt for a blanket. Then again, Belle has never been a typical fairy. 

Read on AO3

CHAPTER TEN

Belle flew up to her little nest on top of the corner bookshelf in the library and threw herself onto the silken sheets. She was exhausted, despite it still being early in the day.

Her bed was the most comfortable thing she’d ever slept in, made up of an old silk shirt of Rumple’s that she’d snuck out of his wardrobe in the West Wing a few days ago, hoping the soft material would help her sleep better. She hadn’t slept well for over two weeks now, ever since Rumple had saved her from Blue and she had kissed him.

It had only been a little peck on the cheek, a sign of gratitude for what he had done. At least, that’s what she had thought when she’d done it. But as she’d quietly rejoiced over her escape from Blue, her own cheeks still warm from the daring kiss she’d given him, her thoughts had turned to the future and what it may have in store for her.

Certain fantasies, like achieving her mission of finally defeating Blue, remained unchanged. But somehow, her daydreams had shifted that day, adding a new element that hadn’t ever been there before: Rumple.

That was the day he had ceased to be Rumplestiltskin and had become Rumple. Her Rumple.

But the sad fact was he wasn’t hers. The way he had run away from her, not to be seen again until almost a full day later, had made that clear.

She hadn’t thought much of his missing lunch and afternoon tea  - he often got distracted by projects - and even though she’d been a little lonely at dinner, she’d still told herself it had nothing to do with the kiss or the fact that he’d disappeared from the room immediately after.

It was only when he’d missed their nightly ritual of reading together - a time she knew they both valued highly - that she’d realized her impulsive display of affection might have cost her dearly.

Suddenly, the idea of spending forever with a man who could never return her feelings was too bleak to contemplate. So of course, she’d lain the whole night awake, thinking of that very thing.

The next morning, he’d shown up as if nothing had changed. As if Belle’s entire worldview hadn’t shifted on its axis. He’d been awkward, fumbling for conversation when it usually came natural to them.

It hadn’t been until the next morning that he’d finally gotten up the courage to ask her what was wrong. She’d told him, in a fashion. She hadn’t corrected him when he jumped to conclusions, not really wanting to be any more vulnerable with him than she already was. Letting him know how she truly felt was unimaginable at this point, even if she suspected he already had an inkling of what was going on. One didn’t live through three centuries without picking up some wisdom about women, after all.

The only good thing to come from all of this had been Jefferson’s visits. Belle wasn’t naive; she knew Rumple had invited the Hatter to tea - at least the first time - in order to cheer her up. She now supposed that he regretted that decision, but it just made her care even more for him that he put up with Jefferson’s presence for her sake.

Even if he didn’t feel the same way, it was obvious he did hold some sort of affection for her. She couldn’t decide if that made her feel better or worse. Better in that he did regard her as special, but worse if it meant he saw her as some kind of little sister.

Without Jefferson’s occasional visits, her thoughts might have driven her mad. But Jefferson was always a fun diversion, made even more so by his strange effect on Rumple. She knew not to read too much into it, but it had certainly seemed as if Rumple was jealous of all the attention she was giving her new friend. It was understandable, of course, since he didn’t have many friends. Apart from herself and Jefferson - and perhaps on a good day, Regina - she didn’t think he had any. He’d been used to having her attention all to himself and it was only natural that he should be jealous, in a strictly platonic way. She knew better than to get her hopes up.

Pulling the silk shirt around her as she sat, she rubbed her face against it, breathing in the familiar scent. It was irrational and if he ever caught her with it, she’d never be able to look him in the face again, let alone explain why. She didn’t even know completely why herself, but the feel of the fabric against her skin and the familiar smell of him comforted her in a way that made her feel safe.

How in the world had she gotten herself into this mess? A normal fairy wouldn’t have been caught dead talking to the Dark One, while Belle worked for, lived with, and had now developed feelings for him.

She flopped down on the silk, bursting into tears. She was a terrible, terrible fairy.

The entire matter was ridiculous. Rumple was the the Dark One. He was temperamental, moody, and sly. He was also funny, intelligent, and occasionally even sweet, but only as long as he didn’t think she noticed. Simple things, like leaving one of the windows open in the Great Hall so that she could easily travel from the garden into the castle. She’d tried to thank him once, but he’d merely batted away her words, saying he was tired of the poor air circulation in the castle.

He’d saved her from Blue, too.  

Blue had offered to make a deal with him, an unprecedented event in the history of the Enchanted Forest. Their leader had certainly drilled that rule into all young fairies’ heads - a deal with the Dark One was never, ever an option. Yet, here was Blue, willing to make one.

The memory caused Belle to shiver. For not the first time, she wondered if Blue suspected what she was up to. The odds were certainly slim, despite the evidence hidden in her pocket. No one had been around the night she had snuck into Blue’s private archives back home in the Golden Glen. No one had been around when her whole world had turned upside down and she’d realized everything she had been taught was a lie.

Blue had only come to find her after she had been recognized by two of her fellow trainees, Tinker Bell and Nova, at the fountain. While they’d obviously ratted her out, she’d realized she couldn’t be too angry at them for it. If she were in their place, wouldn’t she have been alarmed to see a friend of hers with the Dark One? And not only with him, but traveling around in his shirt pocket?

No, she couldn’t blame them. They had been lied to the same as she had. But one day, they would know the truth. She’d made a promise the night she’d left and she intended to keep it, despite feeling no closer to an answer now than she had been then.

The idea to break into the Dark Castle had been a silly one, though at the time she supposed she hadn’t been thinking very clearly, still fresh off of learning of Blue’s betrayal. As she should have suspected, breaking into the Dark One’s home was no easy feat, and she’d spent several nights wandering around the grounds, trying to find a weakness in the castle’s defense that would let her in. She’d been convinced that the answers she sought would be found in Rumplestiltskin’s legendary library, rumored to contain even more knowledge than the library back at headquarters.

Between her time prowling the grounds, she’d taken time to spruce up the garden, disgusted by its lack of care. Each evening when she’d wake up, she’d find her work violently undone, her rose bushes burned to a crisp during the daylight.

As horribly as her other quest was going, it had become a point of pride to ensure the garden’s survival. When Rumplestiltskin had discovered her that final night, she had been near to exploding with frustration, her anger allowing her to talk back to the monster all fairies had been trained to fear since they were babes.

Strangely, he had seemed to respect her defiance and she’d wound up with a job and a place to stay. She hadn’t felt bad about promising to give him information about Blue, because hadn’t Blue broken that trust first?

Belle let out a deep sigh. All of that seemed so long ago now. So much had happened since and she was torn about what her next steps should be. She’d spent hours upon hours going through the Dark Castle’s library, hoping to find the information she sought. But Rumple’s library was legendary in part because of its overwhelming size. Despite her careful searching, she had yet to find any information that could help her bring down Blue.

And then of course, there was her secret weapon. It was hidden in her pocket as always, her own magic cloaking it from Rumple’s detection. Despite the fact that it was only half of a whole, Belle had learned that it still contained enough magic to knock her on her ass should she attempt to use it. She knew this because it had, in fact, sent her flying twelve feet through the forest brush when she had attempted a spell. She wasn’t in a rush to try again.

Though she longed to ask Rumple about it, she knew she couldn’t take the chance. As much as she cared for him, she still didn’t know if she could trust him with her secrets. The stakes were just too high.

Things had improved somewhat between them the last couple days. They’d resumed their nightly reading sessions to Belle’s equal delight and despair. She was glad to have their special time together back, but it also reminded her that this was all they would ever have.

There would be no reading tonight, however, as Rumple had gone to check on the Jekylls again and wouldn’t be back until late. He’d offered to bring Belle along with him, but she’d declined. As much as she ached to go along on another adventure, the events surrounding the strange man who had split himself in half gave her the eeriest of feelings. She’d rather stay in and do some more research than be around something so unsettling.

The sound of loud cawing broke through Belle’s thoughts. She sat up, glancing down to the window, which overlooked part of the garden, to see what was creating so much noise.

The sight made her cry out with alarm.

A large crow, at least one and half times the size of normal, was tearing up one of her flower beds with its beak.

She jumped up from her bed, nearly tripping on the silk that had wrapped itself around her foot, and flew off to the Great Hall and its open window.

Without fairy dust, Belle didn’t have a ton of magic, but she had a couple tricks up her sleeve. If she needed to, she could even grow full-size. She’d wait to do that though. One never knew when Rumple would pop up, and it would be just her luck that he’d show up then.

While Belle had never technically lied to him about her rank in fairy society, neither had she corrected him when he’d assumed she was a run-of-the-mill garden fairy. He’d seemed much more comfortable with that idea, and so she’d never told him what close company she’d actually kept with Blue, as she’d been training to be a fairy godmother.

Belle flew straight into the garden, her anger making her brave. The crow was clawing at her beloved roses now. She concentrated, sending magic hurtling towards the rose bush. Its thorns grew in size and sharpness, and the crow let out a squawk of pain as the thorns pierced its body. The bird leapt away from the bush and stared at it before raising its head and looking around the garden, its gaze landing on Belle.

She’d expected the crow to ignore her. Being much smaller than it was, she knew she hardly looked threatening. However, the bird seemed to be studying her closely, cocking its head as it looked her over. She was unsure what was happening until the crow let out a triumph “caw” and started flying towards her at breakneck speed.

Belle dove, but by then, it was too late to outrun the beast. The bird caught her in its claws, holding her tight. She squirmed, trying to break free, but the crow’s surprisingly powerful grip held her fast.

Her heart pounding, she squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to grow big. Nothing happened. As the seconds ticked by, she grew even more frightened. Her terror was so intense that it became impossible to concentrate on her magic over the panic that was quickly taking over.

Its prey secure, the crow began to fly towards the garden wall with Belle in tow. Realizing there was only one option left to her, she cried out, “Rumplestiltskin, Rumplestiltskin, Rum- “

He appeared before she finished the summons, his face quickly turning into a thundercloud as he took in the situation.

“Oh no, dearie,” he spat, sending a blast of purple magic through the air towards the crow. The bird lost its grip on Belle and they both went tumbling to the ground, falling short of the wall by only a few feet.  

Rumple walked forward, scooping Belle up with one hand, and leveling the other at the crow.

“You go home and tell your mistress that Belle is mine,” he hissed. “If you come after her again, I will personally stuff you and mount you on my wall.”

Belle didn’t miss the look of comprehension in the bird’s eye. It cawed once and flew off as fast as its wings could take it.

Rumple brought her close, his anger abruptly vanishing as his eyes roamed over her to check for injuries. “Are you alright? I won’t let her harm you.”

“I’m fine, really.” Belle gave him a tremulous smile. “We seem to be making a habit of this. You saving my life, I mean.”

Rumple shrugged, clearly uncomfortable. “It’s easier than getting a new gardener. Good help is so hard to find these days.”

Belle nodded, not trusting herself to speak or to call him out on such an obvious lie.

She held close to Rumple as he teleported them into the Great Hall. When he summoned her bed from the library onto the table, Belle’s heart stopped cold.

“I was wondering where that shirt went...nevermind, I have several others. I’ll make you some proper sheets one of these days.” He set her down next to the bed, his brows furrowed in concern. “You sure you’re alright?”

Belle could only nod in response. The near miss with the crow, followed by Rumple’s complete obliviousness to why she slept with his shirt had left her head spinning.

“I think I just need to sit down,” she replied faintly.

“Yes, good idea.” He scooped her up carefully and placed her in the bed, tucking her into his own shirt. “Just lie here and rest. Call upon me if you need anything.”

“Rumple, I’m fine,” she said, trying to sit up. He immediately held out a finger to gently, but firmly, push her back down on the bed.

“Rest.”

“I don’t have the flu!” she said, rolling her eyes at him. He was being ridiculous. She didn’t want to rest. The moment Rumple left her alone, she was going to find a private space to practice growing human-sized again. The fact that she hadn’t been able to do so in such a life-threatening moment scared her more than the crow’s attempted kidnapping or whoever Rumple thought was behind the attack.

He glowered at her. “Stay. There.”

Then he stepped away from her, his demeanor changing faster than she could comprehend. Gone was the soft, worried expression he’d worn while fretting over her, replaced with something darker and more sinister. She could feel his anger now, spreading out into the air around them like electricity.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised. “There’s a meddlesome fool that needs dealing with. It might get...late.”

S could only nod. This was the Dark One at full power, his rage wrapped around him like a cloak. He disappeared from the room without another word. 

Belle shivered. Whoever was on the receiving end of Rumple’s wrath wasn’t going to live to regret it.

Author’s Notes: This chapter was inspired by ideas and comments by @rumple-belle​ and @pinchtheprincess​ from *cough* a really long time ago *cough*. I’ve included them below to give proper credit: 

@rumple-belle​: I just had this image of like some mean ugly crow trying to catch her and getting her cornered and Rumple comes out of nowhere and saves her. Maybe she even yells for him and does the thing where she says his name 3 times. But she doesn't think it will work because he's out making a deal. Of course it does though.

@pinchtheprincess​: The silk handkerchief! That’s wonderful. Or maybe one of his older silk shirts that he was going to get rid of … AND IT SMELLS LIKE HIM. And she’s a fairy so she’s not supposed to like the smell of the Dark One, but she does.

Masterlist of Other People’s Fanfics

I HAVE A REALLY HUGE LIST OF FANFICS. I NEED IT ORGANIZED. THIS IS IT.

NONE OF THESE ARE MINE.

One-Shots that I plan to read sooner or later:

(Since this is getting some notes, just wanted to clarify that this list changes as I read it. I have a favorites list here, which I only add more fics. This masterlist changes pretty much everyday)

1 4am :  it’s four am and he’s left wondering if he should call the girl across the hall. (582)

2 kiss me again : (993)

3 Truth or Dare :  Seb fluffy and giggly smut where the reader is his best friend and they're doing the nasty out of curiosity and boredom (1,242 / smut)

4 The Times Sebastian Referred to You as His Wife and the One Time Where He Does It on Purpose :  Sebastian keeps calling you his wife. (1,449)

5 Greek Days : (1,540 / smut)

6 Wasted Times :  Seb smut based on Wasted Times by the Weeknd (1,600 / smut)

7 Touching In The Air : (1,923 / smut)

8 I Know That You Don’t :  Sebastian is in love with his best friend; that much is obvious. For a while now, he’s been watching Y/N give her love to someone who isn’t worth it. After being there for her when said relationship is in shambles countless times, it began to feel like a routine. A routine that Sebastian did not want to be part of anymore. (2,000)

9 Anything For My Girl :  You come down with a fever, and Bucky takes care of you. When you’re feeling better, he puts your mind at ease about your relationship and then really takes care of you. (2,200 / smut)

10 The Fabric Of A Soul :  Bucky wrestles with what state his soul might be in. (2,300)

11 Loopy Love :  Sebastian has finally come back home, but instead of finding his fiance waiting for him at the airport, he gets some bad news. (2,317)

12 Enjoying the view :  Your mission is going perfectly. Target is charming, receptive… Then you notice the balcony door is unlocked. Hmm. (2,664)

13 Facesitting : (smut)

14 Music :  Bucky doesn’t really understand ‘modern’ music. The reader is there to help. (2,818)

15 Lucky Fan : (2,900 / smut)

16 Soft :  A more sure and confident Bucky, enjoys the softness in life. (3,283)

17 Staying In :  Bucky and you had plans for the evening but neither of you really want to go (3,800 / smut)

18 Risky Business : A mission in Stockholm. A shared hotel room. And a secret. (3,898 / smut)

19 Countdown to White :  The countdown of your life. Five more days until you marry Bucky Barnes and begin the rest of your life.

20 Going Slow : (4,067 / smut)

21 Euphoria :  In which bucky discovers your stash or in which you and bucky get high as balls and fuck each other’s brains out. (4,153 / smut)

22 Stay the Night : “What did I say?”“You told me to behave.”“And what did you do?”“The exact opposite.” (4,300 / smut)

23 Colors In The Dark :  The world is without color, and that’s never bothered the Winter Soldier. The Fist of HYDRA didn’t have time for love and soulmates. At almost a century old, what are the odds that his soulmate was even still living? (4,400) 

24 Softly, Gently :  Bucky hated the dreams that haunted him every night. But they weren’t always too bad. They can sometimes lead to good things, especially if there is a someone that can help him through the aftermath. (4,560 / smut)

25 Hey, Stranger :  Bucky and you have broken up but you run into each other at Tony’s wedding (4,800)

26 A Soldier’s Sigh :  A series of memories told through Bucky’s eyes. (4,800)

27 My Dearest One :  Reader is Shuri’s best friend and meets the White Wolf one afternoon in Wakanda (4,980 / smut)

28 Give Me Love :  Prompt: Can you please write a fic where Bucky has a nightmare and reader wants to help and he fucks her but in between he look at her and stops bc he doesnt want to hurt her. (5,800 / smut)

29 Die A Virgin :  When things are not looking good on Y/N’s and Bucky’s mission, Y/N admits that she’s a virgin. Bucky, being the gentleman that he is, offers to help her out, if they make it out alive. (5,879 / smut)

30 Love Is For Children 1 | 2 :  You’re a former mercenary turned Avenger who joins the team after fighting, and defeating, each member that tried to recruit you. You’re confident in your abilities and even challenge the man formerly known as the Winter Soldier. A battle of egos ensues and it’s Bucky that fights to get your attention but you’re a professional and won’t fall easy for his charm. (8,500)

Series I am trying to keep up with

1 Do You Remember : You remember nothing from the past ten years that you spent working for Hydra - they wiped your memories only days before the organisation imploded - but after meeting Bucky Barnes for the first time in your new job at the Avengers facility you can’t seem to get rid of the feeling that you know him from a deep, dark and violent past the two of you happen to share - but what role did he play in it? (On-Going / 3)

2 First And Last Time :  A collection of one-shots describing the first and the last time the reader and Bucky did something - it’s not a coherent story. (On-Going / 3)

3 Daffodils :  When Bucky’s mental health starts to spiral out of control, and worsen beyond anything he’s experienced before he’s put on lock down in the compound for his safety and the safety of others. It’s then that he finds a familiar necklace that leads him to memories and a mysterious woman born of water who might hold the secret to his deteriorating mental health. (On-Going / 3)

4 What Have I Done :  A bad break up between Bucky and his ex leads to a new friendship with the quiet tech he never had the chance to get to know. Relationships grow, feelings are caught, and boundaries are explored. Bucky thought he found his happy ending, but old memories haunt his future. He knows what he’s doing wrong, dangerous eve, but he can’t help it. Can he fix the wrongs he’s done? (On-Going / 4)

5 Rome, 3am :  Before he was found in Bucharest, Bucky lived next door to you in Rome trying to evade remnants of Hydra. Every night at 3AM you find Bucky smoking his usual cigarettes and trying his best to flirt. However, as time goes on he becomes more careless about staying hidden. (On-Going / 4)

6 Pretend : There’s a person who won’t stop bugging me will you pretend to be my partner so that they’ll fuck off? (On-Going / 7)

7 Espresso : In which your best friend’s brother begins to set you up on dates when you mention that you haven’t been in a relationship in years, but things don’t go as expected. (On-Going / 7)

8 A Series Of Vignettes :  A series of episodes and events in the reader’s and Bucky’s relationship. Big and small, sweet or angsty, these stories lay out the moments in time they carved out for themselves in the crazy world they live in. They all take place in the same universe, but do not need to be read in any particular order. (On-Going / 10)

9 Golden Hour :  A series of moments when everything sparkles, shines and glitters, just like it’s gold. (On-Going / 10)

10 My Neighbor’s A Jerk :  Modern-Day (AU) There’s this mutual feeling between you and your neighbor, called hate. And since your first meet you both commence that feeling with a burning passion. You don’t know the reason behind his hate and you know for damn sure that he will never tell you. But what happens on the first day of your job, when you find out that you even work together? Maybe you will learn to co-operate? (On-Going / 10)

11 Shadows :  After spending a month imprisioned, you were finally rescued only to find out that you were apart of something much greater than you could ever imagine, in the worst way possible. (On-Going / 13)

12 Blue : James and Y/N take a road tip across the country to help Bucky’s recovery process. A question Y/N asks at the beginning of the trip sets Bucky searching his memories for an answer, one he finds he needs if he can move forward. (On-Going / 15)

13 The Things We’ve Done :  All you wanted was simplicity. You had moved to Washington, DC for a better start - to get away from what you were, to get away from what you were expected to be. You never thought you’d meet the Captain America in a bar just three days after moving. You never thought there would be a dangerous person in your apartment just hours after meeting him. (On-Going / 15)

14 I’m No Hero :  When Y/N is caught in the crossfire of a HYDRA raid gone wrong, the Avengers take her in until she heals. Bucky is fascinated with her, and helps her find the courage she’s had inside all along. Plus, you know, a lot of other stuff. (On-Going / 15)

15 Ready to Comply : The reader was taken as a teenager by HYDRA and turned into one of the most dangerous weapons ever created. On a routine mission to take out their remaining bases, the team stumble across the reader and Bucky finds himself face to face with a ghost from his past. (On-Going / 19)

00 Bittercoffee | Duck&cover

1 Let’s Play Pretend : Bucky agrees to be your fake boyfriend for your brother’s wedding to appease your family.  There’s only one problem - you want him to be more than just a fake boyfriend.  (Complete / 3)

2 Rescue me : A strange man had come out of nowhere and grabbed your arm. He told you to, “Play along,” as he hauled you along with him. Next thing you knew, he had opened a door and pushed you through it. Once you were inside, he had bent low and told you that he, “Wasn’t going to hurt to you, and will explain in a minute.” You had only caught a glimpse of him, but you were pretty sure you saw the light glint off a metal arm. (Complete / 3)

3 One’s Promised : Living a double life was not a choice when one was the daughter of Alexander Pierce. Y/N was the youngest agents of SHIELD and one of the most respected threats within Hydra’s empire. No matter her allegiance, she was feared by both. Y/N Pierce would’ve tried to escape it all… if it hadn’t been for The Winter Soldier. (Complete / 5)

4 Peach Scone : In where Bucky has it so bad for you, he cannot find the words to confess his feelings. After an entire year of failed attempts, plus a declaration of love for scones, he decides it’s about time the words come out of his mouth. Only Bucky knows himself and is certain it’s gonna be one hell of a challenge. (Complete / 6)

5 Mad For You : Nat hosts a costume masquerade. Bucky meets the Alice to his Hatter. Shenanigans ensue. (Complete / 6)

6 Movie Night :  Being an assistant to Tony Stark, you never felt like you fit in… that is, until Bucky invites you to an Avengers movie night in the compound. (Complete / 7)

7 Help Us : Bucky is in the process of recovery when a new Avenger causes his world to come crashing down again. (Complete / 8)

8 Fallen : The same haunting dark figure, surrounded in crisp white have plagued you since early childhood. For a while the dreams have stopped until you move to New York and they come back full force. You get a once of a life time vacation to a remote place in Russia and jump at the chance.Then you come face to face with the man of childhood nightmares. (Complete / 10)

9 Another Winter Soldier :  Y/N spends most of her life away from people. She has a secret to hide, and there are people who are looking for her. After an assassination that confuses the world, will she be able to escape from the Avengers? Or will she join them and try to clear her name? (Complete / 13)

10 Delta : Reader is a rare being in the a/b/o cycle and finds herself along side the Avengers. She manages to hide her true nature successfully until she catches the eye of a certain blue eyed super soldier. (Complete / 13)

11  The Subtle Redemption of Lance Tucker : Lance is a perfect fixture in your past. Suddenly, he’s roaring into focus as your younger sister’s National Coach. As warning signs scream around you, resistance is almost futile. But you’re an adult now. You’re stronger than the silly little kid you were before, right? Right? (Complete / 13)

12 Remedy : When a woman is found at an abandoned Hydra base, more dead than alive, Bucky takes it upon himself to help her in any and every way he can. He doesn’t have much of a choice, being the first to approach her without the intention of hurting her in a long time, she doesn’t trust anyone around but him. (Complete / 15)Z

13 Me, Her, and You :  For the last sixl: months you’ve been living in New York with your ten old year old daughter. After one failed job after another, you’ve almost given up. Then someone extends a helping hand, next thing you know you’re living in the Stark tower as a live maid. As you begin to get close to Bucky the truth about your incredibly gifted daughter comes out. Will your past come back to haunt you? (Complete / 18)sz

Classified: Part 8

Luke is still adjusting to life in the BAU when a familiar face from the past joins the team as their Communications Liaison. Last time he saw her they were in the Iraqi desert on a highly confidential mission. Some ghosts are meant to stay buried…

Masterlist (x)

Gosh, this part was the hardest to write yet. Thanks for bearing with me guys! I hope it doesn’t disappoint. Please let me know what you think.

“There are two vulnerable points. Point Alfa will be over here, the breach. Point Bravo, the irrigation ditch.”

A tense silence engulfed the group of gathered soldiers, the only sound the quiet flapping of the tent as sandy dust blew through the opening. The prospect of what lay ahead seemed foreboding enough to make even the toughest rangers apprehensive. Considering what they had been through, it was only to be expected. This would define their time in Iraq…the sacrifices they had made.

Everything counted on this mission.

“Our intelligence has confirmed that Aaban Omar will be inside the compound.” The commander continued, pointing at the map on the wall. “You have clearance to fire. But, as a high-ranking officer of Al-Qaeda, he’s a HVT. We want him alive.”

His words sent an uneasy chill down your spine. Operations to capture and interrogate terrorist leaders had always been exceedingly difficult to pull off and this one seemed even more dangerous than most. The regiment had already suffered losses and you could only hope that the mission didn’t cost them any more.

“Sentry guards change every morning. This will be our opportunity to seize control. We will launch a diversionary attack here.” You glanced up at the map of the compound, frowning slightly at the thought of the immense task that lay ahead. “The other team will launch an assault via support helicopter. The others will be waiting at the extraction point, ready to cut the enemy off.”

The breath hitched in your throat as you felt Luke’s hand brush lightly against yours, your heart fluttering nervously as he stood up to address the group. The world seemed to fade away as he began to explain the logistics of the mission.

You had already memorised every detail, the only thing you could now focus on was the worry plaguing your mind.

“The casualty collection point will be here.” He concluded quietly, taking a deep breath as he glanced around the room at his comrades. His eyes seemed to soften as they fell upon your face, clearly noticing the apprehension etched onto your features.

Despite the excitement of being able to finally capture Omar, fear stirred inside your chest as your gaze locked together.

It felt like only yesterday that you had slept by his bedside, comforting him after the explosion that had claimed the lives of his friends. The faded scar on his cheek reminded you of just how close you had been to losing him. And you only knew one thing for certain….

You couldn’t ever lose him.

“I need to know.” You hissed angrily down the phone, slamming the car door shut in rage.

It had been an incredibly long night at the BAU and after agonising over the possibility that man who had plagued your nightmares was lurking in the shadows, you had decided enough was enough. You had to find out for certain.

There was no chance that you could ever move on from Iraq whilst the ghosts continued to haunt you. There was no hope for you and Luke to be…whatever it was you were whilst you were trapped by the pain of the past. You had to free yourself.

Unfortunately, trying to get your hands on the highly-confidential details of the operation was near impossible.

The monotonous tone droning down the phone was enough to push you over the edge.

“You don’t understand.” You snapped furiously, your fists clenching as you glanced around the darkened car park. “After everything, I deserve to know.”

Your voice faulted slightly, cracking under the strain of overwhelming emotions rushing through your body. Your eyes stung with exhaustion as you raked an exasperated hand through your hair. The responding words down the phone only adding to your frustration.

“Agent that information is classified.”

Shots rang out across the compound as you raced to hide behind the crumbling wall, the entire ground shaking under the force of the explosions. A gasp of surprise escaped your lips as a bullet whizzed past your head, the loud bangs causing you to freeze in shock.

It wasn’t never meant to be like this.

Yells and shouts filled the air as the regiment attempted to storm the compound, finding themselves cut off at every point by the enemy. Everything seemed a blur as you attempted to shield yourself from the falling dust. You barely heard the noise behind you until it was too late.

A shot rang out as the hooded man fell to the ground, the weapon that had been pointed at you clattering to the sandy floor. You glanced up, eyes wide with disbelief, to see Luke gazing at you concernedly.

His arm shot out to hook around your waist as he pulled you to the side, narrowly dodging another bullet fired your way.

“You okay?” He murmured quietly down your ear as he pressed your body up against the wall, the security of its stone providing a little comfort as the deafening shots continued to ring out.

You nodded, gripping onto his arm tightly in an effort to reassure yourself that you were still here. That everything would be okay. But, the loud revving of a car engine pulled you sharply from your thoughts...and from Luke’s arms.

“No!” You screamed, your cries reverberating around the compound as you raced towards the noise. Luke’s shouts echoed behind you as he tried to protect you from the flying bullets. However, all you could think about was the prospect of losing Aaban Omar. You couldn’t let him escape.

But, it was too late. You could already see the cars pulling out of the gates. The smirking face of Aaban Omar sending shivers down your spine. He had gotten away.

“Y/N, you could have been killed. What are you-”

Luke fell silent as his eyes followed your gaze, the cars speeding into the distance causing him to let out a groan of frustration. A gentle hand rested on your shoulder as he attempted to comfort your distress. But, nothing would change the sense of hopelessness consuming you.

“Omar’s gone.”

You barely heard his words, too focused on the sudden realisation that something was terribly wrong. The operation had been top-secret, the confidentiality of the information you had received had been the highest level possible. The only way it would have been compromised was if…

You shook your head, almost trying to convince yourself that the horrifying reality couldn’t be true. But, the truth was that someone had intended for the mission to fail. Someone had deceived you all along.

You had been betrayed.

You knew what the word classified meant…it meant the worst. It meant that all your terrifying nightmares were a reality. That you had to act now.

You glanced apprehensively around the deserted car park, the shadows creeping ever closer as you heart thudded against your chest sickeningly. It might have been the chilling night air that was making you anxious, but you had a feeling that it was the phone call you had decided to make that was making you feel increasingly nervous.

Usually you would have been overjoyed to speak to Luke, even the thought of hearing his warm voice and soft chuckle causing you to smile brightly. However, given all that you had been through recently and Luke’s icy behaviour, you worried that he wouldn’t even answer your call.

He had been so hurt by your secrets that you feared things might never be the same between the two of you. But, now he was about to discover the truth. You only hoped that his trust in you remained unshaken because you had never needed it more.

You had never needed him more.  

Your deep breath seemed to echo around the night air, your fingers trembling slightly as you slowly dialled his number. An eternity seemed to pass before you heard him answer the call, his dejected voice stinging your heart painfully.

“Y/N, I don’t want to-”

“I need to speak to you.” You abruptly interrupted him, your tone deadly serious as you attempted to convey the importance of the situation. Everything else could wait until after. All your personal troubles had to come second. Luke needed to know the truth now.

“I-”

Before you could even listen to his response, a hand shot out to cover your mouth. Your screams were stifled against the black glove as you were forcefully pulled away, your phone clattering to the floor as Luke’s muffled voice faded away.

The last thing you remembered was seeing his name glaring back at you as you desperately clawed at the arm dragging you backwards. But, it was hopeless. Luke couldn’t hear you and he couldn’t help you. It was over.

Then everything went dark.

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