#it's not on my face thank god. should surgery become necessary | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

drandnurseturner · 3 years

Text

The Wrong Impression

Call The Midwife Fanfiction

Nurse Crane & Miss Higgins

What happens when Nurse Crane finally confronts Miss Higgins about his not so kind reactions to The Turners?

As Nurse Crane exited the Mother’s room into the waiting room she passed Nurse Turner. She was smiling from ear to ear. It wasn’t unusual for her to be happy but she did seem more so than usual.

Nurse Crane noticed Miss Higgins scoffing at something across the room. What on earth could be she be scoffing at now? It was a look of disapproval that Nurse Crane had seen on many occasions.

That’s when she spotted some beautiful flowers.

“Oh! Aren’t those nice?” Nurse Crane said aloud as she approached them. “Are they yours Miss Higgins?”

Again. That scoff. “No. They do not belong to me.”

“Oh. Well then who’s are they?” Nurse Crane approached Miss Higgins desk.

“They belong to Nurse Turner.” Miss Higgins was looking down at her work. She obviously didn’t want to discuss this.

“From Dr. Turner? What a sweet man still surprising his wife with flowers. They are beautiful!”

Again. The face. Nurse Crane had seen it so many times but just then she realized The Turners were one of the main reasons for it.

She placed both of her hands on the edge of Miss Higgins desk and leaned toward her. Miss Higgins looked over the rim of her glasses. “Can I help you Nurse Crane? This is quite a rude way to be approached.”

“We have known each other for some time now Miss Higgins. I would venture to say we have even become friendly and as a friendly person I want to remind you that everyone can see the expressions that appear on your face. Most of the time I am in agreement with them but I am not today.”

“What are you talking about Nurse Crane?”

She leaned in closer to Miss Higgins. “Do you know their story Miss Higgins? Or do you think you know? From your expressions and scoffs I would guess the latter.”

Miss Higgins sat there in silence as Nurse Crane backed away.

“As a friend Miss Higgins, may I suggest we have tea together after working hours? I think I may be able to change your opinion.”

“I will not take part in gossip Nurse Crane!”

“Neither do I but that seems to be what you have chosen to believe instead of the facts.”

No more words were spoken. Miss Higgins did as she usually does and continued on with her work. Nurse Crane smiled to herself as she walked back into the Mother’s room. She was not one to involve herself but this time she felt she must.

There had been no further communication other than what was necessary between the two ladies. Nurse Crane left before Miss Higgins. She hoped she would take her up on her offer but it seemed she wasnt interested.

Later that evening Nurse Crane sat around with the Sisters and nurses of Nonatus House. They were having their handy crafts and quiet time when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it.” Nurse Anderson said as she got up.

A few moments later she reentered the room with Miss Higgins.

“Nurse Crane. Miss Higgins is here to see you.”

Nurse Crane was shocked. She noticed everyone was looking at her in surprise. “Oh well of course!” She stood up from the couch started to guide Miss Higgins toward the kitchen. “We have a tea time this evening don’t we? Let’s pop on the kettle.”

Nurse Crane could hear Nurse Franklin asking what this was about. The Sisters mumbled something about it not being her business. No matter the situation, Nurse Crane was not one to out someone who had been misled.

“Please sit down.” Nurse Crane stated. “Thank you for coming by.”

“I do apologize for earlier.” Miss Higgins had a sad look about her.

“Oh please! Let’s get this tea set up and we can discuss it in the garden. It’s a lovely evening, we should take advantage of it.”

This was not a discussion Nurse Crane wanted overheard. She knew Miss Higgins was a difficult woman but she meant well. She understood what it was like to be misunderstood. Her misunderstandings with Sister Evangelina were difficult for her. In the end the two became friends. She hoped for the same outcome with Miss Higgins.

The ladies walked to the garden in silence. Nurse Crane carried a thermos she had filled with tea and two cups. They sat down on the bench and Nurse Crane handed Miss Higgins a cup and poured tea for each of them.

“I’m sure you think me an awful old woman!” Miss Higgins blurted out.

“Not at all lass!” Nurse Crane placed her hand on Miss Higgin back. “Sometimes our opinions can be based on untruths.”

“But you are right Nurse Crane. I do scoff at them and I am horrible for it!”

Miss Higgins was becoming very emotional which Nurse Crane hadn’t expected.

“I had heard things before taking my position at The Surgery. I didn’t want to believe them. I am in that reception room all day. Patients think I must be deaf but I have heard some terrible things.”

“Why did you believe them Miss Higgin? You know the gossip in Poplar is very toxic!”

“How do you all do it?” She was crying now.

“What’s that?”

“Stay so happy. All of the time. Day in and day out. All of the terrible things you all see yet you always see the bright side. You all are such beautiful people.”

“Oh Miss Higgins! You can’t go through life letting things bring you down. I think that’s how we have all survived what we have. Together we are strong. We bring each other up.”

She handed Miss Higgins a hanky. “Now. May I tell you one of my favorite stories?”

Miss Higgins sat up and collected herself. “I’d love if you would.”

“I was hoping so.” Nurse Crane grinned. “Years ago, before I came to Nonatus, there was a Sister and a Doctor.”

“So she was a nun!” Miss Higgins eyes widened.

“Oh yes!” Nurse Crane said knowing how that gets everyone each time. “The Sister had a difficult childhood having lost her mother at a young age. She joined The Order right after nursing school. She was a wonderful nurse and midwife. The Doctor had recently lost his wife and was left with a son. Oh what an amazing young man he was. Although, they had known each other for years, it was as if the stars had aligned as they say.”

“How’s that?”

“The Sister became ill.”

“Oh no!” Miss Higgins was hanging on to every word.

“She had tuberculosis. She had to live in a sanitarium while she recovered. What no one had known was that the Sister had been questioning what God was requiring of her. She did not feel it was to be a Sister but rather something else.”

“What? What happened?”

“After a lot of reflection and prayer, this Sister decided to leave the Order. When she had made her decision, she read every letter the Doctor had sent her while she was away..”

“He wrote her? What did they say?”

“Miss Higgins! I don’t tell secrets such as those.”

Miss Higgins frowned.

“I don’t know the content of the letters.”

They both laughed.

“But I do know they led to these two marrying and having a beautiful family.”

“The Turner’s.” Miss Higgins stated.

“Yes.”

“How do you know all of this?”

“We may all work together but we are friends as well. Shelagh and I have enjoyed tea and biscuits a time or two. Instead of wondering if what I had heard was true, I simply asked Shelagh how they came to be.”

“That would have been a simpler way.”

“Yes it would have been. And...before you ask, yes there is an age difference but one thing I have learned about all of the marriages and relationships I have witnessed in my years...age is just a number.”

“They are a beautiful family which is why I often found myself torn between what I witnessed and heard.”

“I have learned it’s better to believe your impression than those of others.”

“You’re right. I feel so terrible Nurse Crane!”

“This will stay between us Miss Higgins. No need to fret as long as I don’t see anymore of those scoffs!”

“I can’t promise you won’t see one here and there when they are being a little too personal for a professional environment.”

Nurse Crane laughed. “I love when we see a little of their personal life. It fills me with joy to see the happiness of others. Even the “mushy” stuff as Master Turner used to say.”

The ladies laughed and continued with their tea. Nurse Crane knew Miss Higgin meant no harm and she certainly wouldn’t be disclosing her previous beliefs to anyone.

#call the midwife #shelagh turner #nurse turner #the turners #turnadette #call the midwife fanfic #fanfic #ctm #ctm fanfic #call the midwife fanfiction

30 notes · View notes

jazzistolkienfanfics · 3 years

Text

Breathing - Aragorn x reader (modern!AU)

hi! could you do prompt #53 with a female reader and aragorn? thank you!

@elvish-sky oh joy, another sad aragorn fic (jk jk). i wanted to write this one as a modern!AU because of some research i was doing before school ended for science and ... i just thought of the concept and liked it, okay hush

53. “You said you were okay!”

Type: Imagine Pairing: Aragorn x reader (modern!AU) Summary: Y/N hasn’t been entirely honest with her boyfriend, Aragorn. Warnings: angst, sadness, death, Word Count: 1,704 words

Y/N laughed loudly as the black Newfoundland puppy chased its fluffy tail, the dark fur sticking up as though it had been struck by lightning.

Aragorn grinned at her, taking yet another long moment to watch her - to savour everything about his beautiful girlfriend. Just like every time she giggled, he wanted the seconds to last forever. He wanted every day he got to be with Y/N to last forever, because one day, they would be unable to make new memories.

One day sooner than he would like.

He tugged the sleeves of his RSPCA volunteer jacket down as he sat by her side, whistling for the dog to come and sit by his side. It obliged, just as all the animals in the shelter, or anywhere, always did.

Animal whisperer, Y/N would tease him. Like Doctor Dolittle!

Aragorn looked to her again, the smile still on Y/N’s face. Flushed s/c cheeks. Hooded e/c eyes with heavy bags under them, yet she still looked beauty. H/l messy h/c hair, kept out of her face by a f/c ribbon.

Then, the things people tended to stare at. The bag by her side, much like the wheeled kind some people used to shop. The nose cannula hooked behind her ears, a long tube carrying oxygen from the bag. A surgery scar protruding from her f/c shirt’s neckline.

Those things didn’t bother him. He loved her.

“Are you okay?”

Aragorn blinked at Y/N’s question. Normally he was the one asking her that question, or supposed to be. “I-I’m perfect.”

She smiled again. “That’s good.”

He stood, pulling her to her feet as well. “Come on. My shift’s up.”

Y/N jokingly pouted. “But the puppies!”

This time, it was Aragorn who laughed. “We’ll come back next week, I promise.”

“Next week,” she echoed, a sadness in her voice that her boyfriend didn’t detect.

---

Y/N coughed, making a face as the last of her pills went down her throat. She took dozens every day - it was part of her necessary, pre-determined hospital routine.

Her nurse, Legolas, (A/N - stan male nurses) passed her some water, which she gladly swallowed, hacking again.

“Good job,” he grinned. “Everything’s doing okay. Lung function is at 54 percent, a little lower than last week, but it will get higher again.”

She’d definitely expected that, though her heart still sunk.

“I’ll let your boyfriend in now.” Legolas laughed at the annoyed look on his charge’s face. The sound faded as he took on a more serious tone. “But, you remember that it could get even worse anytime, especially-”

“I know,” Y/N interrupted, her voice scratched and broken. “I know.”

“Be careful,” the nurse reminded her again, as he left the room, Aragorn passing through the door before it could even swing shut.

“Going alright?”

Y/N grimaced. “As well as can be expected. I hate my lungs.”

He took her hand, squeezing it tightly, like he would never, could never, let go. “I know you’re strong, Y/N/N. You can’t let CF beat you.”

Ah, yes. There it was - the casual reminder Y/N couldn’t go a day without hearing. Stressing how she was holding her life in an hourglass, which was rapidly running out of time.

Cystic Fibrosis. An often terminal lung condition, meaning Y/N’s lungs functioned at low percentages, causing difficulty in her breathing and weakened immune system. She was often lucky to spend more than a month out of the hospital, thought that hadn’t been the case recently.

She’d been continually relapsing, her lung function decreasing with every checkup.

To put it simply, it sucked. Royally.

“Here,” Aragorn offered her her nose cannula. “Hook up, and I’ll distract you.”

Y/N slipped it on, taking his hand and dragging her portable oxygen in The Granny Shopping Bag™️ with the other. smiling.

Well, at least, her mask was smiling. Inside, she didn’t know if she had the energy or will to anymore.

---

Y/N knew it was a risk, and she was exactly aware of the million and one ways this could go wrong.

But she didn’t care. She was going to live whilst she still could. She was done with giving up her life, letting down her boyfriend, because of some stupid mucus.

Besides, he didn’t know. He didn’t know it all, and she wasn’t going to stop them from being unable to make happy memories together by burdening him with more bad news. Being the protective guy he was, Aragorn probably wouldn’t even let her leave the hospital if her found out.

“Ready?” said-boyfriend-in-question asked.

“Hell yeah,” Y/N grinned, straightening the edges of her denim jacket.

They stood at the archway entrance to the Rivendell National Park - a beautiful wonderland of pale trees and swirling leaves, in the deep of autumn.

Technically, Y/N wasn’t meant to engage in ‘prolonged physical activity’. But technically, she wasn’t even meant to be alive right now.

No one, least of all her, knew how much time she had left. Y/N wasn’t one to waste it.

Together, she and Aragorn stepped through the archway, and explored the ‘whole new realm’.

---

After ten minutes, her lungs were burning, but she didn’t say anything.

Aragorn was looking so happy - a goofy smily affixed upon his face, his dark eyes lighting up as he swished his head from side to side to admire everything with childish wonder.

The National Park was beautiful, but the air was thin, and Y/N was struggling not to audibly struggle. She hated being dependent on people, and she would. Not. Worry. Him.

Something felt different this time - her breathing was quickening even though she was walking extraordinarily slowly, and she was in more pain than she should’ve been

Y/N signalled for Aragorn to stop, doubling over and coughing until her throat was raw. She couldn’t breathe whilst the mucus was crawling up her airways, and she’d rather clear it than suffer.

“Get it out, Y/N,” Aragorn encouraged her as she straightened, worry sketched all over his face.

Her coughing was done, and she went to take a nice big inhale, but ....

She.

Still.

Couldn’t.

Breathe.

Breathing should’ve been something natural, easy, if she had been just a normal young woman with her normal boyfriend.

She wished that lying didn’t come to her easier than breathing.

Y/N collapsed, choking, almost about to pass out as Aragorn immediately fell to her side, pulling his phone from his pocket and dialling an emergency number.

“Oh my God,” he gasped, his breaths coming shortly as well as he scooped her up into his arms. “Oh, God. Y-You’re going to be okay, Y/N.”

Funny how good they’d both become at lying.

With that thought, Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut, without the energy to keep themselves open.

“Y/N!”

---

Aragorn sat in the waiting room with a feeling like acid being poured down his throat and then regurgitated.

She shouldn’t have collapsed like that - it was highly medically improbable given what he knew about Y/N and her Cystic Fibrosis. Unless ... there was something he didn’t know.

He shook his head as soon as that thought came to him. He trusted Y/N. She trusted him. He had to have faith in her.

The sound of footsteps encouraged him to look sideways, where he saw Y/N’s nurse, Legolas, with four cups of coffee in his arms.

“Expecting someone else?” Aragorn laughed as he was handed one of the cups.

“Oh, no,” Legolas replied, with an unbelievably straight face. “I intend to drink all the coffee.”

“How is Y/N?”

The nurse winced. “I will be honest with you - she isn’t going so well right now. The fact that she was still walking with you ... that’s pretty amazing given her lung function and diagnosis.”

“What do you mean?” Aragorn furrowed his eyebrows. “She-she’s fine, isn’t she?”

Legolas stared. “Y/N didn’t tell you, did she? Oh, that stubborn little-”

“Tell me what?”

He averted Aragorn’s eyes. “Tell you that she was diagnosed with Burkholderia Cepacia and she was given another six months to live with her current lung function.”

“What?” All the air rushed out of his lungs, and suddenly, he knew how Y/N felt when it was hard for her to breathe. “H-How long has it been?”

Again, the blond looked awkwardly to the floor.

“How long?!” It was a shout this time, and Aragorn could feel himself on the brink of tears. His beautiful girlfriend, lost to the void ... he could not cope with it.

“Seven months.”

He fell back in his chair, coffee discarded, his shaking hands covering his face as his cheeks dripped with tears. This couldn’t be happening. This could not be happening.

A doctor rushed out from the ER, making a beeline for Legolas. Her nametag read ‘Tauriel’, her long red hair flying behind her as she ran towards them.

Her face was sober.

“He-he should come. Now.” She motioned towards Aragorn who stood immediately.

“Is Y/N alright?”

Dr. Tauriel did not answer his question, just motioning for him to follow her.

---

Y/N wasn’t moving. For such a joyful young woman, she was lying unbelievably still.

There was a crowd of doctors around her, but they all moved back at the sight of Aragorn.

“I’m sorry.”

He didn’t know who said it ... all he could think about was how much paler Y/N looked than her normal s/c.

“She-she’s just a-asleep, r-right?” Aragorn stuttered on the words as more tears fell down his face. “Y/N’s o-okay?”

Dr. Tauriel shook her head. “I’m so sorry. We-we couldn’t do anything.”

“You said you were okay!” Aragorn cried, talking to Y/N even though she couldn’t hear him - would never hear him again. Jut like he would never hear her. “You told me you were okay ...”

“Get him out of here,” someone said quietly, and Aragorn was pulled to the door.

He threw one final look over his shoulder.

Y/N’s hair was spread out over the pillow. Her hands had been folded over her chest. She still had her nose cannula in, but that had never made her less beautiful.

Even in death, she still looked like an angel.

She was still the most beautiful person Aragorn had ever known.

A/N - guys this is my new favourite fic so please spread it! @elvish-sky thank you so much for this request, and everyone, thank you for reading!

#aragorn #modern!aragorn #modern!au #au #lotr au #lord of the rings #lotr #lotr x reader #aragorn x reader #x reader #modern!aragorn x reader #you

81 notes · View notes

eleanorbloom · 3 years

Text

When You’re Ready Ch. 17

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x f! MC (Eleanor Bloom) x Ethan Ramsey.

Word Count: 6.6k (Am I sorry? Absolutely not.)

Warnings: Angst and cussing.

Taglist @utterlyinevitable @binny1985 @shanzay44 @choicesficwriterscreations @laiba-the-person @starrystarrytrouble @lahellacute @lucy-268 @cinnamonspongecake @romewritingshop @bratzlahela @mrs-raleighcarrera @mercury84choices @curiousconch

Chapter 17: Truly, Madly, Deeply.

I'll love you more with every breath Truly, madly, deeply do I will be strong I will be faithful 'Cause I'm counting on A new beginning A reason for living A deeper meaning, yeah

“I’m an asshole.”

Aurora stared at Bryce leaning against the wall with his face buried in his forearm and his shoulders slumped. Defeated. Ashamed. Mortified.

“Bryce, if I told you this is not to make you feel worse than you already feel, it’s because you had understandable reasons to be mad. This whole situation between Eleanor and Ethan is… complicated and adding the information Elijah gave it to you only made things worse.”

Bryce stood straight and faced his friend, his eyes glistening.

“Understandable reasons. Thinking that Eleanor slept with Ramsey and she would dump me it’s an understandable reason to ignore her even if she had never given me any reasons to distrust her? I think not. It’s awful.”

His voice was full of regret and desperation, and even if seeing Bryce like that was painful for her, she didn’t regret her decision.

“You got caught in a misunderstanding. I bet you thought the worst because you’re afraid and that’s understandable. Now you know the truth and you can move on.”

“Move on?—He turned around and started pacing around the hallway trying to contain his anger.—"How can I move on if I know the last three days could’ve been so much different and I…”

“Bryce, stop there.”—Aurora snapped, serious. —"You have to stop wallowing in what-ifs and should’ves right now, because is not going to lead you anywhere, and is not going to help Eleanor either. She needs you. You’re the person she needs the most now, so you have to be in your best shape and mood to help her. Your feelings are important, but right now you have to focus on her.”

Bryce stopped in the middle of the hallway and sighed loudly, then he nodded and looked up at Aurora.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m not usually like this, I don’t lose control this easily, it’s just…”

It’s just that he couldn’t imagine a life without Eleanor, and he couldn't live with the fact that he could've held her, and kiss her, and love her the last three days but he didn't because he was blind and scared.

His breath started raging and he winced, trying to contain the emotions that were overwhelming him. The idea of losing her was becoming more palpable than ever.

“It’s okay, Bryce. You love her, she’s your girlfriend, I’d be more worried if you hadn’t lost your shit by now. Come here.”

Aurora pulled him into a hug, and he wrapped her instantly as if holding her was like clinging to the last drop of sanity he had left.

Guilt had always been his weak spot. He learned it when he left Keiki in Maui and never came back, and to this day he was still dealing with the consequences and trying to make up for the lost time.

And now he was dealing with another kind of guilt, and facing death was making everything worse. The effects were instant, devastating, and maddening.

After a minute of herculean effort to not crying his soul out, Bryce pulled away from Aurora, feeling more serene and like a lot of weight had been taken off his shoulders.

“Thank you, Aurora.”—He muttered, staring deeply at her chocolate eyes, trying to convey his feelings.— “You’re an amazing friend.”

If it wasn’t for her, Bryce would’ve drowned in guilt, shame, and self-loathing to a depth so dangerous, it would've taken an impossible effort to come afloat by himself.

Aurora smiled at him and shook him by the shoulders.

“Anytime you need, I’ll be there for you. You’re not alone.”

“Likewise.”

“Dr. Lahela?”

Bryce turned around and found a nurse a few feet away, looking at them cautiously, almost sorry for interrupting the intimate moment.

“Yes, Marlene?”

“I’ve been trying to contact Eleanor’s family for a couple of hours, but no success. Dr. Ramsey told me you probably have an alternative number? Or maybe you could have access to Eleanor’s phone so we could get another number?”

“And what numbers do you have?”

“Her family emergency contact was her mom’s cellphone and a landline in Cincinnati.”

“And none of them works?”

“The cellphone is out of service, and no one answers in her house.”

Bryce frowned, thoughtful, and after a few seconds, he nodded.

“Oh. Of course. Eleanor’s parents aren’t in the city. They went to Chile to spend the national holidays with her mom’s family. We should try with her brother, he’s in college in Michigan. Where’s Eleanor’s phone?”

“It’s at the Diagnostics Office, with the rest of her belongings.”

Bryce and Aurora entered the empty office. In the center of the round table was a plastic bag with Eleanor’s clothes, shoes, and her phone. Bryce grabbed her phone and unlocked it with his fingerprint without a moment's hesitation.

Aurora chuckled without hiding the surprise in her eyes.

“What?”

“One thing is knowing her password, but adding your fingerprint?”

“It’s faster when you wanna put a song on Spotify.—He shrugged with a nonchalant expression on his face.—"She has access to mine too.”

Aurora and Marlene shared a knowing smile, but he didn’t notice it.

Bryce scrolled through Eleanor’s contacts list. When he found “Benja”, he dialed instantly. After several rings, a whispering voice was heard on the other side of the line.

“Hello? Andrew? I’m in class right now.”

“Um, hello Benjamin, this is Bryce Lahela.”—He said softly.

“Bryce Lahela… oh, shoot. Hello. You’re my sister’s boyfriend, right?”

“Y… Yes. Can we talk? I have something important to tell you.”

“Okay, wait a second.”

While he was waiting, Bryce couldn’t help but feel shivers down his spine. It was the first time he was talking to a member of Eleanor’s family, and even if he knew her family was aware of their relationship, it made him feel nervous reaching this milestone, especially under terrible circumstances, and after the doubts he had been feeling the past few days.

“Okay, I’m out. Something happened?”

Bryce tried to balance the concern of a boyfriend with the calmness and professionalism acquired in his medical career to not shock Benjamin more than necessary.

“Unfortunately, yes. There was an assassination attempt on a Senator here in Edenbrook, it was Eleanor’s patient, and she was caught in the middle. The hospital tried to contact your mother, but as she’s in Chile, I decided to contact you directly.”

“Shit. Yes, you did the right thing. How is she? What happened exactly?”

“She’s stable at the moment. This assassin used a canister with an unknown substance, so the hospital is working to figure out what was inside as soon as possible. It already killed a man, and there’s a nurse in a coma."

“Oh my god, no…”

Bryce could sense the pain Benjamin was feeling even if he couldn’t see him. He knew how much Eleanor adored her brother, so it was natural that Benjamin would feel the same way about her. And knowing his sister was in danger of course would cause this type of reaction, especially being away.

“Is she awake? Can I speak with her?”

“She’s in quarantine, so is kind of difficult to let you talk through the phone, but I can try.”

“No, it’s okay. Don’t worry. I… I’ll fly as soon as I can to Boston.”

“Do you have a number so we can call your parents?”

“I’ll do it. I have my grandma’s landline, that’s the quickest way to contact mom.”

“Okay, then. Let me know if you need anything, alright? Do you have money to fly here?”

“Yes, I have a credit card to use in case of emergencies. Thank you, Bryce.”

“No problem.”

After a few more questions and Bryce giving him his number, Benjamin hung up. If he was lucky, he would be able to land in Boston in three hours.

“Okay, Benjamin is going to contact Eleanor’s parents and once he's here, they'll have a video call with the Team so they can inform Eleanor’s state more detailly.”

“Understood. Thank you so much, Dr. Lahela. I’ll let know Dr. Ramsey.”

“No problem, glad I could help.”

When Bryce grabbed his own phone to save Benjamin’s number, he noticed he had several missed calls and messages from Keiki.

“Bryce, I read that something happened at the hospital. Please answer me.” “I know you probably are in the OR but please call me when you see this” “Are you okay?”

Bryce sighed and dialed her number.

“Bryce? Oh my god, how are you? Why you didn’t answer!”

“I was at the surgery, Keiki. I told you it would last long”—He lied, but regretted it the second he let out the words.

“I know, but… I was worried, the news are saying the police is in the hospital, that someone tried to kill a Senator. Is that true?”

Bryce pondered his words. There was no point in lying, sooner or later she would find out, and it was better if it was from him. So he told her the truth. That the rumors she saw on the news were true, and that Eleanor was in danger. Keiki was desperate and wanted to come over to the hospital to see her, but even if he needed his sister here, he had to play the responsible and serious older brother for once in his life.

“Keiki, it’s better if you stay at home. Is too dangerous here and I think Eleanor would kill me if I let you come over.”

She chuckled.

“That’s true. Better not give her a hard time.”

“Exactly.”

“Okay, but please, keep me informed.”

“I will. And if you need anything, please call me, and stay safe. I’m probably staying here tonight.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Please send Ella all my love if you see her, okay?”

“Sure, thank you, sis."

Three hours later, Bryce was deep in thoughts sitting in a chair near the atrium, when he saw the vivid image of Eleanor walking towards him. He had to blink several times.

“Damn, pictures give you an idea, but I didn’t know you and Elle were so alike.— He joked, standing up from the chair and offering his hand to the guy in front of him. —"Hello Benjamin, nice to meet you.”

The situation wasn’t appropriate for jokes, but somehow Bryce felt like he needed to kill the tension from the start. Eleanor had told him her brother was ongoing and nice, and it just felt right to act that way with him, instead of serious and gloomy.

Benjamin returned the handshake and smiled.

He was way taller than Eleanor but not taller than him, and he had an athletic body, even if he wasn't on any sports team at college. He was just a soccer and basketball aficionado, or at least that’s what Eleanor had told him.

“Nice to meet you too, Bryce. For what it's worth, you’re as handsome as you seem in Ellie’s Pictogram. Thought you were using some Ken filter, but nope, that’s really you.—Benja teased, containing a laugh.

Bryce couldn’t help but chuckle.

“100% real, no weird filters, I promise.”

“Any updates?”

“None. She’s stable and was sedated right after we spoke the first time, so she should be awake by now. The rest is working in the labs trying to find out what could’ve been inside the canister.”

“And you’re not going?”

“I was hired as moral support. My friends are more expert in that field than me, I’m just a surgeon.”—Bryce replied sheepishly, shrugging.

“But the best surgical resident or that’s what I’ve heard.”

His eyes widened for a second, but then Bryce shook his head, amused.

“She told you that?”

“That and other fangirly praises like “oh, he’s so cute, so charming, and talented, the best surgeon, he’s amazing.”

His heart did a flip. He never expected Eleanor would talk about him like that to her brother. Or that she would talk about him at all.

“You must be really impressive to have my sister babbling like a teenager at the age of 27.”

“What can I say? I’m a total catch.”—Bryce gave him his characteristic charming smile, feeling somehow relieved for a moment. It was like Benjamin was giving him the same relaxed and nice vibes he always felt around Eleanor.

Benjamin laughed and Bryce’s heart did another flip as he saw traces of Eleanor’s smile in him. She was everywhere. In the shape of his eyes, the way he quirked his brows, in his grin, even he could hear her in his still marked Ohioan accent.

“Yeah, I’m pretty cocky too, ask my friends and everyone will say a round yes, but your sister doesn’t deserve any less.”

“I agree completely.”

After a few minutes, Bryce and Benjamin stood in front of the quarantined room. Eleanor was half-asleep staring at Rafael, who was sleeping.

“Andrew”—Benjamin muttered.

Eleanor was extremely pale, her eyes were puffy, and her lips parched and cracked, but the moment she opened her eyes and recognized Benjamin, her whole face brightened with love and surprise.

“Benja! Ohmygod! What are you doing here?”

“Bryce contacted me so I had to come to see you. How are you?”

Eleanor stood up with difficulty. When she reached the door, her eyes were full of tears.

“Bebé… I’m… well, I’ve been better, but right now I’m so happy to see you.”

“Me too, sis.”

Both siblings shared a smile, the same kind smile, and Bryce couldn't help but mirror them.

“Well, I leave you to it. I’ll let Dr. Ramsey know you’re here so you can have the meeting with your parents.”

Bryce turned to leave but Eleanor stopped him.

“Bryce, wait.”

“Yes?”

“Thank you, thank you for calling my brother.”

Eleanor gave him a tender smile, full of thankfulness and adoration.

“Yeah, thank you, Bryce, for all you’ve done for my sister.”—Benjamin added, earnestly.

“It’s nothing. Let me know if you need anything.”

And he left the siblings catching up with their lives, the younger trying to cheer up the older with the usual jokes and mocks siblings have.

Hours later, Eleanor paged to report a new symptom Rafael had manifested before falling into a coma. Hopefully, it would be the key to find the answer they’ve been trying to reach all day.

“Bryce?”—Aurora murmured, approaching him in the hallway. “Dr. Ramsey wants to talk to you, he’s in his personal office.”

When Bryce turned to her he didn’t need a second glance to read the panic in her eyes. He gulped and then forced himself to smile at Eleanor.

“See you later, gorgeous.”

Bryce walked to the office as fast as he could. When he reached Ethan’s office, he breathed deeply before getting in. As he opened the door, he found the attending looking at the window, pensive. He looked small and fragile, and when Bryce stood behind him, he saw how haggard he was in the reflection of the window. After a few moments, Ethan turned to face him, and he didn’t even bother to hide his feelings.

“Do you know what’s in the canister?”

“Yes. June was right. It’s…”.—Ethan cleared his throat, brows knitted in worry.—“ It’s a maitotoxine.”

“Maitotoxine? I think I’m not familiar with the name.”

“It’s an extremely potent toxin commonly found in fish, but this… this toxin is something I’ve never seen before. Not June, not Baz…”—Ethan shoved his hand through his hair, evidencing his frustration.

“What does this mean?”—Bryce said in a tiny voice, already knowing what Ethan was about to say.

“There is no antidote for this, Bryce.”

For a moment, Bryce felt like he would faint, his mind went clouded, and lost track of space and time. His body wasn’t strong enough to process such information. Such undeniable and hurtful truth.

What he had been fearing all day was now materializing.

“And what are you going to do? Can you create an antidote or modify another one with a similar molecular structure? That has been done lots of times.”

“Yes, that’s what we are hoping to do. Aurora informed me that a group of doctors from Mass Kenmore is coming to Edenbrook to help, so we’ll have the best minds working on an antidote.”

But they had to have it before it’s too late.”

“You have to… you have to find the antidote, Ethan. She can’t die… She…”

Bryce suddenly got out of breath. The desperation was brewing again. The pain was inexorable. He couldn’t hold it anymore.

“I can’t lose her. Ethan, please… You have to...”

He couldn’t tell when happened, but all at once, he found himself drowning in sobs and with large tears streaming past his neck, reaching his chest.

He did his best to not succumb to his feelings in the OR because Kyra needed him, and he couldn't fail her nor Eleanor.

He managed to hold it while he was with Aurora because there was still hope and Aurora forced him to focus on Eleanor.

He was doing fine keeping his hopes high, trusting they would find out what was in the canister and then set a treatment and everything would be alright.

But there was no cure, no antidote.

Even if one hundred doctors were working on it, no one could assure him that they could do it before it’s too late. Before she’s gone.

He didn't even want to think in a world without her, but the sole draft, just a slight hint of it was devastating, unbearable.

He started gasping for air. His guts were shaking uncontrollably. The lump he felt in his throat at OR was now bigger and even more painful. His entire body was numb.

This was a living nightmare.

After a few seconds, Bryce took a chair and sat down before his legs could fail him. Ethan did the same.

“We have to stay positive, Bryce. Many of us have experience with research and with the help of Mass Kenmore and your friends, I’m sure will be on time to fight the toxin.”

“I wanna believe that, I’ve been believing this shit all day, Ethan. But… if it’s too late. I…”—He rubbed his face with both hands, his face red and wet with tears. Then he buried his face in his hands.—“She doesn’t deserve this… She can’t die… Please…”

Ethan patted him in the shoulder, comfortingly, his eyes haunted with fear and sadness.

“Bryce, I won’t let anything happen to Eleanor ...”—He hesitated for a moment, pondering his next words.— “You know what she means to me. I know you do. And I’ll do everything I can to save her, I promise. Whatever it takes. I won’t let anything happen to her. "

Bryce looked at him defeated.

“If I could, I would do it too, but I’m so useless. I feel so useless.”

"No, Bryce, on the contrary, you have done for her more than any of us could. If she’s still able to have a smile on her face despite the hell she’s living, if she’s still standing is not only because she’s incredibly strong. It’s because she has you. You’re part of the reason she hasn’t fallen into a coma yet.”

There was a painful rawness in those words. In another time and circumstances, Ethan would have never been able to say it aloud, mostly for pride and because he didn’t use to open to anyone. But not today. His love for Eleanor was selfless enough to let him recognize that if she was doing good was because of Bryce, and she had given him enough bravery to accept it out loud in front of the person she had chosen over him. Because Ethan only needed one second of watching Eleanor looking at Bryce to realize she was in love with him.

The only person Eleanor needed, was Bryce.

Ethan’s words felt like an absolute and relieving certainty to Bryce, mostly because who was saying it was the person he would expect it the less, and it gave him the strength he needed to keep going. To keep being there for Eleanor in this difficult night.

“Thank you, Ethan.”—Bryce said after a while, regaining breath and clarity.

The attending nodded and then stood up from the chair.

“Come on, we have to speak with Eleanor, and she’ll need you by her side.”

Eleanor was hopeless. Bryce could tell how the slight hope she had inside her had vanished with the news.

“We’ll do our best to find the antidote. Just keep fighting Eleanor.”—Elijah reassured.

The doctors from Mass Kenmore and the rest of their friends started to go. Sienna was heading Benjamin to the fifth floor so he could have some rest. He didn’t want to leave the hospital in case something happened.

And then, there was only Ethan and Bryce outside the room.

Eleanor smiled at Ethan, noticing how troubled and scared he was, as if he didn’t want to leave her there, knowing things could go wrong anytime and he couldn’t say goodbye. But he knew it wasn’t his place to be anymore. He knew it was Bryce’s.

“Thank you, Ethan. For everything.”

“We’ll make it, Eleanor. Keep fighting just as you’ve been doing until now.”—He stared deeply into her eyes for a moment, before turning around and leave Bryce alone in the hallway.

Bryce watched him leave, and when he looked at Eleanor, her swelling eyes were already on him, clinging onto him even if she couldn’t touch him. Like his eyes were strong and powerful enough to hold her to life.

She was tired. She was giving up.

“It’s gonna be okay, Elle, I promise.”

“It won’t. How they’re going to create an antidote in just a few hours? Raf and Danny are in a coma, they could go at any moment, so do I."

“Yes, it could happen at any moment, but that moment could take hours, even days, and I’m sure the team will have it on time. They have a lot of brilliant people working on it, with tons of experience. They’ll make it, I know.”

Eleanor shook her head hastily, sobbing.

“It’s just I’m so tired, Bryce. I… I can’t take it anymore, I’m tired of being strong and show hope and shit, I want this to be over, I’m done.”

“I know you are, babe. You have been so strong and brave, it’s understandable that you want a break. You deserve it, but you have to keep fighting, okay?”

“The only reason I’m doing it it’s because of you. Because somehow you don’t let me fall. If it wasn’t for you, I don’t think I would be still standing. I don’t know I’d be here. I wouldn’t be that strong.”

Bryce smiled tenderly at her puffed eyes.

“You would. Don’t you know it already, Eleanor? That strength that you have is all you. You have it inside you. You always have.”

“Don’t you know it already, Bryce? You make me stronger. You know it’s true.”

“Glad to be of service.”—He flashed her a smile that made her smile too.—“But this is mostly you.”

“I wish I could hold you right now. I miss you so much.”

“Maybe you can.”

“How?”

“There’s another hazmat suit out here. I could go inside and make you company for a while. I hate the idea of you being alone in a moment like this.”

“Would you do that for me?”

“How dare to ask that, Eleanor Andrea Bloom? You know I would do anything for you.”

Eleanor bit his lower lip, compassing her sobs for a moment.

“I’d love to have you here with me.”

“That’s it, then.”

A few minutes later, Bryce entered the room with the hazmat suit on, and a dashing smile adorning his face.

“Well, what do you think? Am I still handsome? Or am I somehow more handsome? Be honest.”—He said flirtily.

She shook her head, chuckling.

“God, how I missed you, Johnny Bravo.”—She said looking at him from head to toes.—"I think it’s your best look yet. You’ll catch a lot of babes with that.”

“Ah,”—He growled, taking slow steps towards her— “but you know there’s just one babe I want, and I have it right here in front of me.”

Eleanor looked up at him, almost not believing he was in front of her, that she was able to touch him.

In an intent to believe it, she cut the distance and wrapped Bryce in a tight embrace.

“You’re here, you’re really here.”

“You’re not the only one who was dying for a hug, you know? Especially after all the opportunities, I wasted in these few days."

Bryce tightened his hold, almost scared that Eleanor would vanish into thin air any second now.

“Elle, I’m…”

“Shhh… Not now.”

He nodded and both remained silent, savoring the embrace, the sweet feeling of having each other in their arms. Even if they couldn’t feel the warmth and smell they loved so much, feeling their arms wrapped around those so well known curves was sufficient. It brought them joy, peace. A sense of reality in the middle of that living hell.

After a minute, her limbs started trembling and her breath got short.

“Come on, babe, let’s get you to bed.”

Bryce took her hand and helped her laid down. Then, somehow, he managed to squeeze in the bed beside her.

“How’s that?”

“Much, much better.”—Eleanor placed a hand over his waist and then added: —“My brother really liked you. A lot.”

“I know. I liked him too.”

“You know?”

“I told him I was a total catch, cause I am, and he agreed with me. That totally means that he likes me, right?”

“Bryce…”—She laughed, rolling her eyes.

“What? It’s the truth! I didn’t force him to agree or anything! I mean, you did half the job by telling him all those incredible things about me.”

“He told you that? Oh, that brat!”

Bryce shrugged, amused while Eleanor shook her head.

I’m glad you finally get to know each other, and you actually liked each other.”

"I mean, it's hard not to. He's really nice and you've told me so much about him I feel like I've known him for a long time."

“I think something like that happened to me with Keiki, even if I had absolutely no idea about her existence before I met her”—Eleanor teased, feigning annoyance.

“Keiki… She’s been worried about you all day. She was crazy to come up here, but I told her you would kill me if she came. But I’ve been giving her updates every hour.”

“Oh, yes. I would’ve been so fucking mad, Bryce Lahela. I’m glad you kept her safe.”—Then she sighed.—"The poor thing, must be all alone. You should go to see her.”

“I know, but I can’t leave you here, Elle.”

“Would it be too selfish of me if I tell you I don’t want you to leave?”

“No. Not at all.”—His look softened.—“I don’t want to leave, either. In fact, I won’t leave your side, Eleanor.”

Bryce gave him a tiny smiled and they stared at each other, savoring once again the moment of being together. After a while, Eleanor laughed.

“What is it?”

“You look so fucking handsome, Bryce, it’s ridiculous, and I look like shit. I’m done a complete mess.”

Bryce chuckled, spotting the dark circles around her eyes, her tousled hair, how pale she was. He really hadn’t noticed how bad she looked.

“Yeah, you look like shit”—He teased.—"But you know what? You’re still the most beautiful creature in the universe, princess.”

Her eyes were swelling with tears, and a moment later, a sob escaped her mouth.

“Okay, okay, I take it back,”—He added seconds, later, noticing her swelling eyes. “you don’t look like shit, you look amazing, babe, incredible. Ready for a Vogue photoshoot. Ready for the Oscars.”

Bryce couldn’t tell if what escaped her mouth was a sob or a giggle, but her face had lightened somehow.

Somehow, he managed to end her anguish and ease her pain.

Somehow.

He didn’t know how.

As if it was pure luck.

But she perfectly knew it wasn’t luck.

“Gosh, Bryce…”—She couldn’t continue. It felt like she was out of breath.—"Bryce I…”

She brought her hands to the side of his head, her thumbs over the face shield as if she was caressing his cheeks.

She locked eyes with him, and that look, that adoring look made him feel millions of shivers through his all body. Those dreamy tender eyes managed to convey all the emotions that were brewing inside her.

And Bryce was finally, finally able to see it, after missing it so many times that day.

“Te amo.”

He was at last, at last able to hear it, after longing for it for so long.

Her eyes were looking directly into his soul, into his heart, pouring everything she had inside to fill him with the most sincere and sweet love. With adoration, admiration, tenderness. With the purest feelings anyone could imagine.

And those two words sounded like relief. Like she had been choking and those words out loud were acting like the air she had been needing for so long.

“I love you so, so, so much, Bryce.”

And her eyes now were even fuller with adoration and candor. Full of happiness and life, even if ten minutes ago she had been feeling ready to die.

“I… I wish I had realized sooner, and these weren’t the circumstances where I’m able to say it… but if I don’t make it, I don’t want to go without you knowing what I feel about you.”

“Babe, you’ll make it, you don’t need to do this just because you’re here.”

“I’m doing this because that’s how I truly feel. I’m in love with you.”

“You really are?”

Even if he had been waiting for those words for months, he couldn’t believe it. Even if he had been receiving signs all day, from different people, he still couldn’t believe it.

“Yes. Yesterday I was finally able to see it, but it has been there for a while.”

“How so?”

“I’ll explain it later. You need to know some things first.”

“Okay.”

“As you know, I went to Ethan’s apartment after the game.”

“Aha.”

And she told him everything that happened that night. She didn’t keep anything. Well, except the personal stuff Ethan had shared with her, but the confession, the things he promised her, the kiss, how she felt after that, what she talked with Aurora. Everything. Because she had nothing to hide and he deserved to know everything, just as it always had been.

“And I just like that, I realized that I was over him. Just like you said. I was in front of the Ethan I used to love, telling me he loved me, offering me everything. But it turned out I… I didn’t want him anymore.”

“I’m sorry it had to be this painful to you. I had no idea you had been hurt so much.”

“Yeah, I had it blocked, but I’m sure I would’ve told you if it wasn't the case.

Bryce stroke her hair in the most tender way he could, his eyes haunted.

“I’m sorry, babe. I’m for being so distant and an ass with you. I should’ve let you talk, but I was afraid of what you would tell me”

“I know. I know and I completely understood it. But I can’t deny that at some point I was afraid that… I hurt you to the point of you not wanting anything to do with me anymore. That going with Ethan that night was the last straw and that no matter what happened between him and me, you… you would want to break up."

“No, of course not. How could I decide something like that without a warning? And with something I pushed you to do? No. I was just… trying to delay the inevitable. The suffering of knowing that you gave him a chance.”

“Well, I didn’t. And I realized that I was in love with you instead. At last.”

“Are you sure about that? You know there’s no need to hurry…”

“Bryce, why is so hard to believe it? Should I shout it with a megaphone, or maybe post photos and stories on my Pictogram telling that I’m truly, madly, deeply in love with you so you can believe me? Because I’m willing to.”

Bryce laughed, incredulous.

“Truly, Madly, Deeply. Damn. Just like that Savage Garden song?”

“The very same. I like the 90s.”

“A woman after my own heart.”

She bit her lower lip, smiling.

“I cannot believe how blind I was. It has been there, the whole time!”

“I’m listening.”

“It’s…”

Her whole face lit up with that sunny smile he loved so much. For a moment, he forgot where they were.

“It’s in the way I look at you, like a fool. Like I was fifteen. It’s the fact that you’re my first thought in the morning and my last one before going to sleep. You’re the first person I think of when something good happens, or when something bad happens too. In your arms is where I feel safe, and I know there's no other place I'd rather be. And god, I laugh with all your jokes, even the bad ones, and I don't find you cocky anymore because all that you say about yourself is true, and I think about you all the damn day, Bryce. I’m all day wanting for the day to end so I can see you and kiss you. And…”

Eleanor stopped for a moment, trying to catch some breath. Bryce shook his head. He had the stupidest smile she had ever seen on him. The same smile she was sure she had on her face right now.

“Another example? My brother. I haven’t been able to stop talking about you. It wasn’t like this from the beginning, but now I’ve just realized that the last few weeks I haven’t done anything but tell him, or my mom, how happy I am with you. I’ve been even imagining how it would be if I ever introduce you to my abuela. I bet she would adore you the moment she meets you, and she would love you more than me, and would cook your favorite meal, and would give you the last spoon of ice cream and… and I really don’t care, because you deserve it. You deserve the last spoon of ice cream, and my grandma’s meals, and … Everything. You deserve everything, Bryce. I don’t know what else to say. I’m in love with you like a teenager, and I feel like never before. What did you do to me?”

He smiled, tears of joy streaming down his face. That slump in his throat hurt again, but for different reasons. It was for the absolute tenderness and adoration he was feeling inside his chest. Admiration. Love. God. He couldn’t understand how he could love her so much. How much she meant to him. How happy and complete she made him feel. He had never felt this for anybody before, he knew it already, but now he was realizing he would never feel this way for anybody else, ever.

“I’m crazy about you too, Eleanor. I’ve been holding these feelings for so long to not scare you or pressure you, but god, I feel the same way. I think about you all day, and every time I think about the future, you’re in there.”

“That’s a relief, because for a moment I thought I was being too cheesy and clingy.”

“Babe, you’re always cheesy. You can’t help it around me.”

“You created a monster, Bryce Lahela.”

“I like cheese. I would eat cheese all day. And for the record, I would definitely share the last spoon of ice cream with you"

Bryce winked at her and then pressed her body against his.

“God, I wish I could kiss you.”

“You will.”

“But I want to kiss you noooow."

Eleanor pouted and butterflies fluttered ferociously in his stomach. She made him feel like fifteen too.

“Well, miss impatience, is nice to finally meet you.”

"Tell me that you're not dying to kiss me right now."

“I am. But we’ll have to manage with what we have for now.”

“How so?”

“Imagination. How would you like me to kiss you the next time?”

“If there’s a next time.”

Bryce scowled her and squeezed her waist.

“There will be. You’ll get through this, babe. I promise.”

She gave him a sad smile.

“So?”

“So what?”

“How will you want me to kiss you after you get out of here.”

“Mmm… I think… Slow and sweet, just like our ‘first kiss’ at Isabella’s”

“Mmm what a good kiss. Cute and romantic.”

“Or maybe passionate and breathtaking, just like that kiss at the beach, on your birthday. God, I can’t decide!”

“Don’t worry, we can always try both.”

“I hope so.”

“We will. You have to believe me.”

“Okay. I believe you. If I die, I’ll come to visit you every night, Bryce Lahela.”

“Lucky for me you won’t die. I would hate to have your ghost every night by my side and not being able to kiss you and do you dirty things.”

“Bryce!”—Eleanor giggled. “Okay, okay, I believe you. Bring me that dreamy kiss now!”

“Close your eyes.”

Eleanor obeyed and closed her eyes.

“Remember that night at the Museum?”

“I could never forget”—She muttered—.

Bryce took her hand and with the tip of her fingers, he brushed her lips delicately, exposing her inner lip for a moment. Then with her thumb, he caressed her mouth.

“I will kiss you sweetly and delicately while I hold you by the waist, transmitting how much I love you, how much you mean to me. How happy I am to have you in my life.”

After a few seconds, she opened her eyes, smiling.

“That night was perfect.”

“Yeah, and you looked gorgeous.”

“But you, you were stunning in that silky pink shirt… And the night was so nice. Warm and starry. Oh, and there was music playing.”

“Yes, that slow jazz… When I fall in love… It will be forever”—He sang slowly.

“Or I’ll never fall in love…”—She continued.—“You remember the song?”

“Obviously. It played on my mind on repeat for like two weeks.”

“Oh. That means you had that kiss playing on repeat on your head for two weeks?”

“I plead the fifth.”

She chuckled.

“Well, I, for one, thought about that kiss a lot in the following days. Another example of how goofy you leave me.”

“Good I wasn’t the only one.”

Suddenly, her smile faded, and Eleanor looked at him earnestly.

“Thank you for taking a chance on us that night, Bryce. Since that day you’ve given me nothing but happiness. And I’m sure that from that day there was no returning point for me. Sooner or later I would fall for you, and I’m glad I finally did.”

“I would do it a million times, in a heartbeat, Eleanor.”

“And I’d choose you a million times, over and over again. I only wish that none of those million times had to involve me dying just when I realized I was in love with you.”

“You’ll make it, babe. I have so much love to give you, that I won’t let you go so easily.”

_____

A/N: Hello! If you make it this far, I have to thank you! I know it was a super long chapter, but it was really important (for the story and for me) and I honestly didn’t want to save words, nor split it in two chapters.

If I had to resume Bryce in this chapter in two words those would be: Husband material. And next chapter will be husband material x3264546.

Thank you for all your support, I hope you liked this chapter. I’d love to hear your opinions in the comments.

A big hug to each and every one of you!

A/N2: *spoiler* Graphic description of Eleanor after chapter 17:

I think it works the other way around too 😂

#Bryce Lahela #Ethan Ramsey #Choices #Choices Stories You Play #Bryce Lahela x MC #Bryce x MC #Open Heart Choices #Open Heart fics #Open Heart

44 notes · View notes

oopshidaisyy · 4 years

Text

July Fic Recs

a little late but here we go!

praying for sparks in the dark (in the heart) by susiecarter "Him," the Bat repeats, in a low and deceptively soft growl. "I don't know who he was," the man says immediately, taking this cue and running with it. "I don't, honest. Honest, I swear to god. Nobody did. He just showed up, that's all. Asking about you, asking everybody what they knew, if they'd ever seen you, what you'd done. Metropolis," the man adds belatedly. "He had that look, you know? Clean. Said his name was—Carr, or Kemp, or something. Something like that." (Or: in a universe where Bruce becomes aware that someone's looking into the Batman, he goes to the effort to track down Clark Kent. It doesn't play out quite the way either of them expected.) Clark/Bruce, 20k, E

having let go forever the fallacy of ever being alone by gyzym This time there are shitty dogeared paperbacks Arthur wouldn't be caught dead reading piled on the coffee table, and half-finished crosswords tucked into the bookshelves, and the far wall is hung with that tapestry they'd bought in a shit part of London on a whim. This time they've spent all day fixing their sink and there's a mug of yesterday's tea sitting on top of the television and it's not just Arthur's living room at all. Arthur/Eames, 16k, E

A Sure Thing by lightgetsin "Okay," Peter says, and there's a rasp in his voice. "Repeat after me: theft is not foreplay." Neal/Peter, 3k, E

perfect strangers by susiecarter Batman and Superman are fucking. Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent are a great cover for fighting crime, and also might be dating. Bruce and Clark have no idea what they're doing; but they definitely aren't going to be able to talk themselves into stopping. Clark/Bruce, 15k, E

run to the river (dive in) by susiecarter MoS AU: With one successful fishing season already under his belt, Clark's finally getting comfortable on the Debbie Sue. He just wishes this guy Dixon hadn't signed on with them, because the way he watches Clark is really starting to give Clark the creeps. (Or: Bruce goes undercover looking for enhanced individuals before BvS instead of after—and finds one.) Clark/Bruce, 5k, M

Took Me By Surprise and Then by thehoyden After the second surgery in New York, Charles doesn’t anticipate anyone keeping vigil by his bedside — and certainly not Tony Stark. Charles/Erik, 5k, T

as to which may be the true by susiecarter It isn't difficult to go on in the wake of Superman's death. His resurrection, though, poses a problem—especially when it turns out there's no such thing as the right moment to explain that Martha Kent's obnoxious billionaire friend? Is also the man who tried really hard to shove a kryptonite spear through Clark's face. Clark/Bruce, 53k, M

Blue Devils by VillaKulla /blo͞o ˈdevəl/ noun, inf: a feeling of despondency, depression, or low spirits origins: Old American West Billy/Goody, 4k, M

Spree by thingswithwings "So, okay, Britta," Annie says, "this thing you gave me is seriously just a scrap of ripped looseleaf that says 'IOU one shopping spree at A Woman's Touch.' I do not even know what that is." Britta does an excited little leap in the air and claps her hands. "It's me deciding to help you discover your true womanhood." Britta/Annie, 4k, E

embroidery appreciation by Annie D Written for an anon on tumblr who requested Natasha and Tony as brotp, or Steve/Tony being schmoopy in love. This is a bit of both. Tony & Nat, 1k, T

and every map is blank by gyzym It's -- topography, Carlos thinks, of a person, of two people, it's so complicated, it's so much easier to just go it by yourself. He doesn't want to hurt Cecil but he doesn't want to keep any part of himself from Cecil, either, and it scares him that that's true, and it scares him to know it's what Cecil wants. Carlos/Cecil, 7k, T

trothplight by arriviste “What a metaphor,” Grantaire said bitterly. “I may dress your windows, but no more. We’ll greet each other in the streets, but you won’t admit me to your chambers or your hearts. I know all the words, all the empty speeches one needs to mouth for membership – I can rattle them off as well as you. Want me to prate Hébert or praise the Supreme Deity? Quote Rousseau or Marat? I can mum them; I don’t, because I don’t mean them, and because I’m an honest sceptic, I’m untrustworthy.” Enjolras/Grantaire, 4k, E

A-Wing, X-Wing, Y-Wait, B-Mine (Please) by ester_inc Finn keeps finding himself in situations where – no, wait, let's start over. Poe keeps ending up shirtless, nearly shirtless, or soaking wet, and somehow Finn is always there when it happens. The universe is either taunting him with what he can't have or rewarding him for good behavior, and Finn can't decide which is more likely. Either way, he's emotionally unprepared for, oh, let's be honest here: Poe's entire existence. It's fine. No big deal. He's working on it. Finn/Poe, 7k, E

Just Give Me Moments by barricadeur Enjolras comes home from a protest to a not-empty apartment. --- "What happened?" Grantaire says. His other hand grips Enjolras's shoulder, as if to keep him from pulling back, but Enjolras is so tired that the energy necessary to break away seems monumental. He lets Grantaire inspect him, says only, "I hit my head." "On someone's fist?" Enjolras/Grantaire, 1k, T

The Rare Gift by triedunture The prompt was "Dean receives an . . . unusual . . . Christmas gift from Castiel." The gift turns out to be wings. Dean/Cas, 4k, M

i love you now like i loved you then (this is the road and these are the hands) by theappleppielifestyle Somewhere in their phone calls after Derry 2.0, Richie and Eddie had decided to finally take that road trip. Richie would fly in from LA, then they’d drive back there from New York. It’ll be just like it could’ve been, Richie had said once. (Or, Eddie and Richie resume.) Richie/Eddie, 6k, M

i guess i should say thanks or some shit believe it or not, charles has a well-thought-out moral philosophy. he doesn’t follow it. but he has thought it out. alternatively: charles and erik douche it up in amsterdam. Charles/Erik, 17k, M

this is your sword, this is your shield by susiecarter Post-BvS, Diana and Lois start to develop a habit of protecting each other. But sometimes habits become ruts, and every now and then it's a good idea to break out of them. (Or: a whole bunch of times Diana and Lois looked out for each other, plus the time Lois ended up feeling like it might be worth it to be just a little less careful.) Diana/Lois, 9k, T

Family Portrait, c. 1840, oil on canvas by littlerhymes Lestat's latest favourite is a painter. Lestat/Louis, 2k, T

get religion quick (cause you’re looking divine) by brinnanza So it was fine. Even if Crowley couldn’t love him, he clearly liked him well enough, and that was almost the same thing. It no doubt would have continued to be fine, or at least fine-adjacent, were it not for a narrowly averted apocalypse and several bottles of a really quite nice Riesling Aziraphale had found in the back room of his newly restored bookshop. Aziraphale/Crowley, 4k, G

42 notes · View notes

nonsensicalobsessions · 4 years

Text

But You Are Mine

Prompt: Loki/OFC AU, nurse

Author’s Note: So, after an incredibly long hiatus, the Muse returned and left this story with me, so I could respond to the mystery prompt challenge as posed by Little Darlin’s AU Mystery Challenge. It was an interesting set up: I chose the pairing, and the prompt I wanted (song, dialogue prompt, or a nonverbal prompt, or AU) which would was then selected by Little Darlin. I will let you, the reader, decide how well I fulfilled the prompt I chose and drew...

Tired. So unbelievably tired, I couldn’t hold my eyes open any longer, nor could I come up with a reason to do so.

The bath water was warm, and deep, my head was so heavy, and my eyes burned...what was the point? Rest, a persuasive voice whispered inside my head. Just close your eyes for awhile, what harm will it do? You are finally warm, after feeling so cold and miserable.

The humidity felt so good in my aching throat and the scent of almonds and honey soothed me further as I allowed myself to drift off.

Come now, Little One. You need to shake this lethargy off, and sit up.

I need to do no such thing. This voice was new, and unwelcome, and it could piss off.

Hearing voices in my head wasn’t nearly as upsetting as it might seem on the surface. They weren’t true auditory hallucinations...most of the time. I knew I had an active imagination. Usually it was a source of comfort for me and my solitary, sheltered existence. The more upsetting mono- or dialogues I had become disciplined enough to shut out. Therapy is a wonderful thing.

You most certainly do, or else the consequences will be most dire.

Oh? Such as?

Such as, I am the only thing keeping you from falling asleep, and as such slipping under the surface of the water and drowning.

The voice was quiet, and firm. Curiously enough, it was male. Huh. A lovely baritone, come to that. Most of my voices were either female, or asexual.

I somehow think my first inhalation of water would be sufficient to wake me up, but thank you for reinforcing your poor opinion of me, whoever you are. You may go now. Just...so tired...

You are tired because you haven’t eaten in three days, nor had anything to drink for two. And you are also tired because you are barely conscious. You are quite ill and in dire need of medical assistance. Does the thought of impending death not move you at all?

Voice, who are you and why should I even care? Voices come and voices go. None of them speak truth, they simply tell stories or say what I want to hear. Just leave me to some god damned rest for a change.

No. This god will not let you have the rest of the damned.

Oh bullshit. There are no gods. And if there are, none of them speak to me, or care enough to make their presence known. I’ve tried.

Can you not hear me answer you?

I’m dreaming. That’s all this is. And I challenge you, Nameless God—who are you, and why would you come to me now anyway? Why can’t you just let me go in peace?

Because I have been watching over you, my dear. I’ve heard you calling out to me in joy, in mischievous laughter, in rage, in despair, but most delightfully in passion...and yet, your calls have dwindled, and your supplications grown smaller, and finally silent. I came to see about you, and find you on the verge of passing beyond even my reach...why? Why have you allowed yourself to fail so grievously ill?

I repeat—who are you?

Beautiful mortal. I’m your Loki. Open your eyes.

Struggling, I managed to force my eyelids to open. It was time to force myself out of this reverie that was bound to sink my soul deeper into the mire of depression should I continue. There would be no one there, because there was never anyone there.

Crouched besides my tub, was...someone. A male figure, in armor that was casually unfastened at his throat. His index finger lightly supported my chin, as my body had in fact slipped a lot lower than I realized. Careless of modesty, I struggled to sit up, but my head felt poorly supported by my neck, and I leaned it heavily against the side of the bath. I blearily realized perhaps I was sicker than I realized, as my imagination had now exploded into full blown delusions. Auditory, visual, tactile...whee, such fun...

“You do not seem overly distressed to find me here.”

“Begging your pardon, but I fear you are not. Clearly I am spiking a temperature and am delirious. I knew I was feeling ill beforehand but had no idea...”

“Oh, you skeptical woman. You are indeed sick, in fact I am still unsure what can be done for you, but none of my favored will slip away in a bath if I can give at least some assistance to aid their passage.” And with that, I found myself being lifted, and tenderly brought to my bed, instantly dry and clad in the loveliest nightdress I’d ever seen. Certainly finer than anything I had in my possession.

“What...?”

“Darling, you deserve something beautiful. But right now, I fear your body is shutting down. You should not have neglected yourself so sorely. Why have you?”

At this point, I decided to just go with it.

“Are you then, truly...”

“Yes, I am the same Loki you’ve called out to many, many times. Your very own.”

“Why do you say it like that? ‘My very own’? Surely there can only be one of you...?”

“Little One, have you no idea how many multiverses exist? For whatever reason, I have found you, and therefore I have claimed you as mine. I do not share easily, if at all. Should another incarnation of myself suddenly appear, he would have quite a fight on his hands. You are mine. I know everything about you...how you read well past your bedtime. The many, many hundreds of thousands of words you have written, but have never shared with anyone—why? You’ve created entire universes of your own, woven wondrous tapestries filled with richness and delight, but have locked them away in secret...composed anthologies of poems...” Long fingers played with my hair as I stared into his eyes, struck dumb by his revelations as he looked pointedly at my stacks of journals that were perched on my nightstand, leaned on shelves, and even sat on the floor.

His face was a confusion for me. He wasn’t as described in the eddas, nor was he the mirror image of the MCU character.

“Of course not,” he laughed, his voice rumbling low in his chest. “I am me, and no one else. Just as you are yourself.” Drat the man, he was even reading my mind now, or at least reading my expressions...

His eyes were almost a kaleidoscope of green and blue, and his hair a rich black waterfall of wavy locks, his lips neither thin nor thick, and his teeth...I had to shake myself from getting lost in his physical magnetism.

“I don’t know what to say,” I murmured. “If you know so much, why are you asking me these questions, and why are you coming now, when everything has gotten so bad?”

“When I saw you last, things weren’t so dire, pet,” he confessed. “I wasn’t going to manifest myself unless I thought you truly needed me. You were content, I thought—you had your life with your friends, your activities...why should I upset everything? God of Chaos and Mischief I am, but I had no desire to destroy your life for no purpose. I adore mischief and pranks. I would bring pain to you.”

“Loki, everything is gone,” I whispered, trying to contain my grief. “Everything I was striving for...I’m never going to get better, you know, the physical therapists told me I’ve hit my maximum potential. The only thing I can do is have surgery, which will be expensive, painful, and risky with uncertain outcome. There will be no one to help me recuperate, to further complicate matters. My job is at risk because I can’t keep up any longer. I’ve worked so long to help everyone else, but...”

“Now you need help, and everyone has disappeared, aye,” he concluded sadly. “I am sorry. I know you have struggled with this for a long time.”

“I never felt like I wanted outlandish things. I wanted to have a family of my own. A husband who loved me, found me physically desirable...”

“You are incredibly desirable,” Loki growled fiercely. “By the Nine, I’ve watched you as you have lain in your narrow bed of nights, wondering what ails the men of this realm that you have had to take care of your needs alone. Your body in passion has inflamed me in ways I can barely tolerate without slipping through and ravishing you without so much as a by your leave...!”

“But you didn’t” I hotly interrupted. “For whatever reason, you didn’t. Whether I was too old, too disabled, too fragile, too mortal, too unattractive...you like every other male found your pleasures elsewhere, and...”

“Be very careful,” Loki hissed. “You are close to unleashing something you know nothing of...”

“Well of course I know nothing of it, I just want a family, babies, children, I just wanted to be loved, and yet you find me about to drown in my own bathtub! And come to it, why didn’t you just leave me be? At least the pain and the loneliness and the aching would be over! What is the point, or are you going to be just as distant as all the other gods in the pantheon...!”

I didn’t say anymore, because speech was no longer possible. Loki had swooped down, crushed my body to his, and was kissing me with a thoroughness I never dreamed possible.

What need for breath had I, when there were such kisses to be had? My head was spinning, my heart was pounding, and the edges of my vision were growing dark as I lost myself in him, my hands slowly then more confidently pressing him even closer to me, so I could feel his silky locks in my fingers, his chest rising and falling.

“I warned you,” he said at last, allowing me to greedily inhale at last. “You taunt me, showing me where I may have failed in the past, but I will refuse myself no longer. I thought by denying myself the pleasure of being in your company, I was doing what was best for you, but no more! You are mine, and I will be the one to give you all, whether you wish it or not. No mortal men for you, my darling. I will have Eir herself if necessary at your bedside, and what Eir cannot heal, I shall unleash my seidr upon, and what magic cannot improve, I swear I will fetch and carry and give to you whatever you need so you will be comfortable and happy. No healer will be as dedicated. No handmaiden as constant.”

I sat back. “You...really care? You care that much?”

“Sweetling? I may be your Loki...but you?”

He leaned forward and cradled my body against his, his voice husky and tantalizing, his breath barely brushing against my ear.

“...you are my Ástvinur. I cannot, will not be without you another moment. I refuse. Seeing you about to slip away...no. I have chosen you, and you are mine.”

@sourpatchkidsandacokecan @just-the-hiddles @yespolkadotkitty @hopelessromanticspoonie @winterisakiller @redfoxwritesstuff @ciaodarknessmyheart @villainousshakespeare @lotus-eyedindiangoddess @vodka-and-some-sass @theheartofpenelope @sabine-leo @wegingerangelica @the-insomniac-cat2 @alexakeyloveloki @myoxisbroken @ladyfluff @toomanystoriessolittletime

#it #ldamc #loki x ofc #loki imagine #look Christine I did a thing #Nonsensical Writes

54 notes · View notes

captain-kingliamsqueen · 4 years

Text

Matter of National Emergency- Liam x MC

Pairing: Liam x Riley

Summary: Liam and Riley are in Isolation in Valtoria...and one of them may succumbed to the almightly Tik Tok! <-- can you tell im bored?

Word Count: 1,667

Masterlist

ASK IF YOU WANT TAGGED! SORRY IF I MISSED ANYONE!

I always notice every single spelling mistake or issue after I’ve posted…so apologies in advance!

Tags aren’t working so I will be tagging in the comments.

Liam sighed as he entered his and rileys quarters at Valtoria, shutting the door behind him. It was just hitting seven o’clock when he returned from his last meeting. Liam and Riley loved coming to stay at Valtoria, it felt more like a home than the palace did, after they got married they stayed at the palace whilst they had some renovations at Valtoria done, they had the royal quarters basically turned into a reasonable sized apartment.

“hey, how was your meeting?” Riley called from the en-suite, she was just coming out as Liam had walked into the bedroom, she made her way over to him, moving to her tiptoes to press a kiss against his lips.

“it was…stressful” He sighed as he placed his hands on her lower back, nuzzling his head into her shoulder

“so…what happened? What’s the decision?”

“Lockdown, as I assumed would be the result, people aren’t listening to how serious this is, they don’t understand that the more they go out, the more people are going to catch this thing and more people are going to die from it, it’s really the only solution if people aren’t going to listen”

“I understand, so when are you announcing it”

“this evening, I’m going to shower and change then head to my office. ive sent everyone home, Bastian insists he is staying in Valtoria with us, so it’s just me, you and Bastian, he is currently setting up the camera for the live feed”

Once he showered, he dressed in a crisp white shirt and black dress pants with a blazer.

“I won’t be long my love” Liam smiled as he kissed Riley then headed out for his office.

Once Liam reached the conference room, he greeted Bastian then sat himself down at his desk across from the big camera sitting in front of the desk.

“is everything set up?”

“yes, your Majesty, you go live in just under a minute, your statement is written out for you, just in case you need it”

“thank you, Bastian,”

“alright, you go live in 10 seconds” Bastian informed him from behind the camera.

Liam quickly fixed his collar then straightened up. as soon as he seen the light change on the camera he began.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of Cordonia. This is an Emergency announcement from your King. As you all know the corona virus is sweeping the nation. last week I gave the orders to self-isolate if you are a vulnerable person, and many people did, but not all, a few days ago, I gave orders to shut all non-essential business’ and to stay home where possible but again not all listened so as your King, as your leader, I have decided that the best course of action is to go into lockdown, you must know, I hate that I have to do this but if people aren’t going to take this seriously then more people will become infected and more people will die. I am going to lay down some rules that every person in Cordonia MUST follow until further notice. Number one…you must only leave your homes if absolutely necessary, this means, if you need supplies such as food, essentials that you most definitely cannot live without! Number two, you may leave your homes for exercise, once a day for one hour! if you need medications, I have organised for all medications to be delivered to homes, if you need to see a doctor…call the helpline that is on the screen right now, you will speak to qualified nurses, if the nurse decides you should be seen in person, you will then be allowed to leave your home and attend a doctors surgery or hospital. All in all this means you should only be leaving your homes if absolutely necessary The sooner the public follow these rules, the sooner this will start to go away, I don’t want to see groups of kids walking around outside, meeting up with their friends, I don’t want to see people joining in groups for any reason what so ever. Queen Riley and myself are self-isolating along with you, we know it’s going to be hard, sitting in your homes, not able to go outside, when it’s lovely and warm or going to see your friends, but spend this time wisely, be with your family’s, spend time with your husbands, your wives, your children and your parents, time that you wouldn’t be able to spend with them if you were out working or at school, we have seen what this virus has done to other countries, please don’t let this vile virus take control, I wish you all the best, stay healthy.”

Once Liam finished, he bid Bastian goodnight then headed back to his and Riley's quarters. Once he entered, he shut the door behind him, making his way towards the kitchen where Riley was getting herself some water. Liam walked in, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

“hey, I was thinking we could go to bed and put a movie on?” she smiled sympathetically as she seen how tired he was.

“you know I think that’s the best idea ive heard all week” he smiled

The two made their way to the bedroom, they done their usual night-time routines of washing their faces, brushing their teeth and such then the two took themselves to bed. it didn’t take long before the two of them were out cold.

Liam woke to a giggle coming from beside him, he opened one of his eyes just enough to see the time on the alarm clock on his bedside table. 3:00 am. He groaned as he turned over to be blinded by the light from Riley's phone.

“what are you laughing at? Its 2am Riley.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t sleep” she laughed as she carried on watching the video on her phone.

“are going to sleep at all tonight?”

“yeah I’m just putting it down.” Riley pressed the screen off then placed the phone on her bedside table then shuffled over to Liam, she yawned as she cuddled into his chest causing him to instinctively wrap his arms around her. “I’m sorry I woke you up” she whispered before placing a kiss to his skin.

“It’s alright, sweetie” he placed a kiss on top of her head before the two fell into a deep slumber

The next morning Liam awoke to an empty bed, he frowned at the empty space that his wife should have been in, she had no reason so be up this early as the country was currently on lockdown, they had no meetings or obligations, they would have the odd conference call but that was it. He stretched as he removed the duvet and climbed from the bed, pulling a pair of lounge pants on before heading towards out of the bedroom.

“Riley sweetie?” he called when he didn’t see her in the living room.

“I’m in the kitchen”

“Morning beautiful what are you doing up?” Liam asked as he made his way to her wrapping his arms around her from behind as she finished fixing the mugs of tea she was making.

“I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep, I hardly slept a wink all night.”

“oh really?” he asked as he nuzzled his head into the crook of Riley's neck.

“yeah, hey I’m sorry I woke you up this morning, I feel awful.” She sighed as she passed him one of the mugs of tea

“I told you this morning and I’ll tell you again now, it’s fine, don’t worry about it” he replied as he gently pressed a kiss to her lips. “I love you” he added

“I love You too” she smirked, the two made their way into the living room where they curled up on the sofa whilst catching up with the morning news on the television.

“I don’t know who pissed 2020 off but whoever was I hope karma comes around and kicks them in the ass!”

“I’ll toast to that!” Liam chuckled as he tapped his mug against Riley's.

“hey…I heard a joke on tiktok last night, when I couldn’t sleep oh my goodness…what was it again?” Riley went quiet for a minute then started laughing “oh god that was it…”

Liam smirked at how funny she found the joke; he sipped his tea as she went on to tell him.

“so little johnny’s sitting in class and the teacher says she has a math problem for him, she says, if there’s 5 birds sitting on a wire and little johnny shoots one how many’s left? So little johnny says none, the teacher says no, the answers four and johnny says no, the answers none ‘coz If I shot one the rest would fly away, the teacher says, I like the way you think.”

Liam looked at Riley confused but laughing at Riley trying to get her words out in between laughing.

“okay…” he smirked

“little johnny says, I got a question for you, if there’s three women sitting in a store eating ice cream cones and one of them is licking it, one of the is sucking it and the other is biting it, which ones married…so the th-the teacher HAHA the teacher hesitantly replies, well I guess the one sucking it and little johnny…oh my god…” just as Liam took a drink of his tea Riley finished the joke, “little johnny goes no, the one with the wedding ring, but I like the way you think.”

Liam spat his tea out as he went to laugh, he chuckled as he wiped his chin where his tea ended up.

“is that why you were laughing this morning?”

“yeah” she chuckled

“that’s hilarious”

“what times your conference call?” Riley asked him

“1pm”

“okay, do you want to have lunch out on the balcony before your meeting, it’s supposed to be really nice out today”

“I would love to”

By the time half 12 hit Liam and Riley had just finished their lunch and were sitting outside on the balcony, just getting some fresh air.

“y’know even though the reason the countries on lock down is bad, I’m so happy we get to spend some time together and it’s not rushed or last minute, we can just sit and be together” Liam smiled as he took Riley's hand across the table.

“I totally get it, the reason behind it is bad, but the time we’re gonna get to spend together is a blessing and we can’t take it for granted.”

When it was time for Liam to go, they both headed inside, he placed a gentle kiss on Riley's lips then headed down to his office, whilst Liam was at his conference call Riley curled up on the sofa scrolling through her phone.

It was just a short 45 minutes later that Liam returned to the apartment, Riley had fallen asleep on the sofa, with Bash, their protective corgi, curled up sleeping at her feet. Liam decided to get some paperwork out of the way whilst, Riley was sleeping.

It was just after 5 when Riley woke, she heard Liam in the kitchen, so she got up and made her way to him. when she walked in her was stood boiling the kettle to make some tea. Riley approached him from behind wrapping her arms around his torso and cuddling into his back.

“I love you Liam” she whispered tiredly

“I love you too” he smiled as he turned into her hold, placing a kiss on her lips. “do you want a cup of tea?”

“that would be great” she smiled

“did you sleep well?”

“I did! Better than last night anyway”

Once Liam made the tea, he passed Riley one of the mugs then the two sat at the kitchen table with them.

“I found another funny tik tok” Riley grinned

“alright, hit me with it” Liam smirked

“so…there’s a family with a little boy, driving behind a trash truck on the highway, suddenly a vibrator flies out and hits their windshield. To try and save their sons innocence the woman goes, oh that was a huge bug! And the little boy goes, damn mom how does a bug fly with a dick that big!”

Liam nearly choked on his drink; he slapped his hand on the table as he threw his head back laughing. “damn, who do you even follow on this thing” he laughed

Riley climbed out of the shower, wrapping her towel around her, she dried herself off just as she went to lift the nightgown she had brought into the bathroom with her, she remembered she seen a trend of people walking out in front of their wife or husband naked to see what their reactions would be on tik tok, now of course, she wouldn’t be filming it but she knew it would be a lot of fun for the two of them, she smirked knowing what it will result in after Liam sees her. she walked out of the bathroom with her towel around her, she walked out of the bedroom and stood on the other side of the living room, Liam was sitting on the sofa with his back to her just about to finish up his call. Riley smirked as she unwrapped her towel, she slowly walked over towards the kitchen throwing the towel at Liam as she walked causing him to turn around. She smirked as she seen his face go from confused at the towel to his jaw dropping and nearly hitting the floor “damn baby” he mouthed as he watched her bare behind walking into the kitchen. She grabbed a glass of water to quench her thirst then as she turned around she seen Liam leaning over the end of the sofa so that he could see into the kitchen, Riley smirked with a wink as she headed into the room, swaying her hips as she walked past him, Liam stuck his arm out to stop her from going any further, he wrapped his arm around her legs gently pulling her closer to the sofa, he ran his hand up and down her leg.

“i-im…I’m sorry…I have to cut our conversation short” he quickly spoke into the phone. “I know but…it’s a matter of national emergency” he replied as he stood from the sofa, eyeing Riley's chest.

“ok…goodbye” he hung up then flung his phone onto the sofa with a grin on his face.

“are you ready?” he asked putting his hands on her waist as he leaned his head down, placing kisses along her jaw.

“ready for what, baby?” she sighed contently as she ran her fingers through his hair.

“for the wildest night of your life” he smirked as he reached down, hooking his arms at the back of her legs as he lifted her over his shoulder, receiving a happy squeal from her. He gently slapped her backside as he made his way to the bedroom with her.

54 notes · View notes

ladyseaheart1668 · 4 years

Text

Endless Summer Book 4 : Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 50)

Description: Tahira awakens! And she has a plan.

Tagging: @endlesshero1122 @mysteli @feartheendlesssummer @whatmcsaid @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @tigerbryn11

Chapter 50: Between the Cracks

Tahira

I can't breathe...I can't breathe! I push against the Endless' grip, trying to reach the surface, but she only holds me tighter.

“It's all right, Tahira. It's all right. Just watch.”

The images are still coming. Quinn Kelly, motionless on a bed her hands folded in a funereal pose atop a large, shining stone. She turns into Alodia, clutching the Prism Crystal, but she's no longer lying in repose. Her face is twisted with fury, her eyes gleaming fuschia with the Crystal's power as she attacks an unseen opponent. I can't breathe. I want to get out. Someone get me out of here! I flail, pounding the Endless' arms feebly with my fists. I can't perceive the images anymore. There's only a vague itch at the edge of my mind, telling me that I know something that I didn't know before.

“Tahira...?” I don't recognize the voice at first, but everything around me is fading. The images. The Endless. The ocean. Then, as I finally draw in a desperate breath, I feel something warm and soft on my cheek. “Tahira, baby, can you hear me?”

“...Mom...?” I realize that I have my eyes closed. I open them carefully, squinting against a sudden assault of florescent light. A figure, blurry but definitely my mother, hovers over me. I hear her choke on a sob as she strokes and kisses my face.

“Oh, baby, thank God!”

I become aware of a pressure on my hand, and turn to see Grayson perched on the edge of my bed, holding my hand. His clothes and hair are rumpled, and there's a layer of fuzz on his face like he hasn't shaved in a day or two.

“Do you remember what happened?” he asks anxiously.

“Got stabbed,” I mumble. My mind feels surprisingly clear, but it's taking my body a bit to catch up, I think, because my tongue feels heavy.

“Yeah. The surgery went well, but you took awhile to wake up afterwards. You had us worried. How are you feeling now?”

“Fine,” I answer without really taking stock. As soon as I say it, I realize that my side still feels like it's on fire. But I feel fairly confident I'll heal quickly now that I'm awake. “...Alodia...she was abducted...”

Mom and Grayson exchange a look of mild surprise.

“...Yeah...” Grayson confirms. “And Diego. How did...?”

“Crystal stuff. I'll explain later. ...I gotta talk to the Catalysts. I think I might have an idea about finding her.”

* * *

“You want to...use the Prism Crystal to find Alodia?”

It feels risky to be on a video call with all the Catalysts plus my team while I'm still in my hospital room, but I've got Grayson standing guard, ready to signal me if any staff get too close.

“Hear me out here. Quinn, when you were...possessed by Vaanu, you could feel the Island's Heart, right? You could feel where it was?”

“Vaguely,” Quinn confirms. “I could feel it pulling me toward the other half.”

“And there were other instances of the crystals leading you places, right?”

“Quarr'tel,” Jake says, nodding. “They slipped a crystal into Raj's pocket and it lit up like a firefly when we were headed in the right direction.”

“And when we had three of them staked together, they literally just showed us the path when we looked through them.”

“The Prism Crystal is specifically Alodia's life essence. But it didn't react until I came in contact with it as her blood relative. Maybe that connection will help me use it to track her.”

“I believe your idea could work in theory,” Varyyn says cautiously. “...I would be extremely hopeful, if not for the fact that her abductors have managed to block her psychic link with me. Suppose they have figured out a way to block any link with her that the Prism Crystal might give to you? What if that was a function of the poison you were dosed with?”

“It might well be,” I admit. “But what do we have to lose by trying?”

“Nothing,” Jake says. “If anything, we'd be failing Alodia and Diego by not trying. If there's even a chance it could get them back sooner...”

“I'm not disagreeing with you, Jake,” Dax chimes in, “But there are a few logistical problems to consider. For one thing, Tahira, you're still in the hospital with an abdomen full of stitches. Even with your enhanced healing, it's going to be a process. You won't do anyone any good if you tear out your stitches and bleed out searching for Alodia and Diego. Two, this isn't La Huerta, where you guys were on your own with only Vaanti authority to deal with. If this works, how do we explain it? How do we explain Dragonness disappearing after these two people she presumably has no connection to, and how do we explain how she found them without giving away too much?”

I wave a hand impatiently. “We'll chalk it up to a mystery of the Prism Crystal and assure the public that we're looking into why the Crystal led me to these people. The public have been remarkably accepting of the idea that the Prism Crystal turned people into superheroes.”

“But why Alodia and Diego in particular? Why not any of the other thousands of missing persons in the US? Why would the Prism Crystal choose two people who went missing in California when it's on the East Coast?”

“You're overthinking this,” Jake says. “Look, my sister's a cop. People go missing every day, and most of them don't get half the attention Alodia and Diego have gotten. The only reason they're getting as much media attention as they are is because they were on the La Huerta trip, and the fact that Alodia's pregnant makes people more sympathetic. Once they're safe home, the media and the cops ain't gonna care too much about how they got there.”

“I can't say that I completely agree,” Poppy says. “I know I'm only a fashion journalist, but that doesn't mean I don't know how the media works. Alodia and Diego are still high-profile people, and there are high-profile people involved in their kidnapping. Dax is right. If this does work like we want it to, we do need to consider how we're going to spin it so that the attention doesn't go anywhere we don't want it to.”

“Let's not get too far ahead of the game,” Michelle cautions. “Dax is also right that Tahira needs a little time to recover before she's fit to go chasing anyone down.”

“Simple solution to that,” Jake declares. “If she gets a lead off the Prism Crystal, I'm going with her.”

I try not to grimace outwardly. I should have seen this coming. “Jake...you know I'll be faster on my own. Considering that I can fly without a plane.”

“Not while you've still got a hole in your gut. If this is gonna work, we don't have a lot of time for you to be on bed-rest here. We got a small window, and it's closing fast.”

Michelle nods. “Jake is right. Whether we find her or the authorities do, we really don't have time to just wait if we're going to take any action. She's due in a matter of weeks, and we can't assume she won't go into labor early. At the same time, Tahira, you can't just go on your own in your present condition. Apart from the stab wound, we don't know if that poison is fully out of your system. So, I'll come too.”

“Can the hospital spare you?”

“I've still technically got a week and change of vacation I haven't used, and I haven't officially put myself back on the schedule yet.”

“Well, you know I'm not letting you go without me,” Sean says firmly, taking his wife's hand. “I can't. Not just now.”

“I expected as much, and I won't argue.”

“I will go as well,” Varyyn declares. “Not least because my partner is among the missing, but also because if Alodia or I somehow managed to break through the barrier they've put on our psychic link, it would not do for me to be miles away.”

I sigh. This is kinda turning into a plan for the world's most batcrap-crazy road trip, but I honestly can't say that I mind. In fact, I feel a wry smile tugging at my mouth. “...Anyone else want to join in?”

“You know Kenji and I are at your disposal,” Eva says, winking. But I shake my head at that suggestion.

“No, not you two. Someone needs to stay to protect Northbridge. We can't just leave DA Katsaros completely high and dry and expect to stay on her good side, especially given the situation with Caleb and the kids.”

“I'll come instead,” Estela says. “In case you need another fighter.”

“I'm rather handy with a fencing sword,” Aleister offers a bit reluctantly. But his sister shakes her head.

“Stay with your wife and son. There will be enough lonely doves among the Catalysts as is, and you and Zahra need to look after the company and field any questions from the authorities.”

“Besides that, we should keep our numbers as small as possible,” I point out. “Even if I can't go on my own, we will go faster the fewer we are.”

“In the meantime, what should the rest of us be doing?” Raj asks. “I mean, I'm good to stay in California if that's where I'm most needed...”

“We'd appreciate that,” Jake agrees. “Keep looking after our folks for us. I'll see if I can send Rebecca back with our parents, but it's possible they won't be willing to leave me alone unless I bring her with me.”

“Well...I guess we're mostly settled then. We can work out the necessary details once I'm discharged.”

“That's assuming this really works...” Aleister says soberly. “We've begun speaking of it as a certainty...”

For a moment, no one says anything. I hear myself speak first. “We'll know that as soon as I'm discharged, too.”

Jake

I'm not surprised when my parents are reluctant to let me go to Northbridge without them. I'm an adult, they say, and they can't stop me, but they do their best to discourage it. I don't hold it against them. I've disappeared on them too many times for them not to be nervous, even after I promise to check in with them. As I predicted, it's Rebecca's promise to go with me and keep an eye on me that finally convinces them to go back to California and look after Alodia's parents. I vow to go back there myself if Tahira's idea with the Crystal doesn't pan out, though of course I don't say that to my parents. I need them to think my visit to Northbridge is open-ended.

The meager bags Mike and I packed for what we expected to be a night or two away from home were retrieved from the motel we were staying at the night before our abduction. By now, I've been discharged and Mike's finally in recovery after surgery, so I bring him his bag as an excuse to visit before I take off. I wouldn't normally think I needed an excuse to visit, but the hospital staff are still hovering like flies, and the pretense of dropping off the bag gets me access to his parents, who manage to finagle a few minutes for Mike and me to talk privately.

He turns his head toward me as I slip into the room and smiles wanly. He looks pale and exhausted, and he's still got an IV in the crook of his arm, but he's awake and propped up on his pillows. Still, the sheet below his thighs is flat over the mattress. I pull up a chair beside him.

“How're you feeling, kid?”

“...You know those old clothes press things that they used to feed clothes through after they were washed to get all the water out? In the olden days before washers and dryers?”

“I think I know what you mean. I think they were called 'mangles'.”

“Appropriate name. Anyway, I feel like I've gone through one of those.”

I cover his hand with mine and nod down at the flat sheet beneath his thighs. “No new legs yet?”

“Apparently they gotta let the nerves heal or something first. I dunno. They got some metal things on the stumps to keep 'em fresh or whatever. The science blinded me a little. All I really know is they hurt like a bitch.”

“Fuck.” I squeeze his hand. “Sure feels like a shit time for me to be taking off...”

“Where are you heading?”

“Northbridge. ...It's not looking like Alodia and Diego were on the island. But Tahira has an idea to track Alodia using the Prism Crystal. Hopefully it works, and hopefully where we find Alodia, we find Diego.”

“No question you gotta go, then. Not like you'd be doing much good bumming around the hospital with me.”

“Probably not. ...Don't know how much good I'll be doing following Tahira around, either. But if there's even a chance of finding her...”

“You don't have to explain. We both know where you're most needed right now.” He turns his hand over to grip mine, his eyes finding my gaze and holding it. “Find your wife. Bring her home.”

* * *

Rebecca, Varyyn, and I get a private flight to Northbridge, compliments of Aleister and Estela, of course. I'm glad not to be in the pilot's chair on this one. I'm probably still not totally clear to operate heavy machinery after that blow to the head, and I'm not sure I could concentrate, even if I were. Problem is that I can't really sit still, either. I know I shouldn't be wandering more than necessary while the plane's in the air, but I feel like I'm gonna lose my shit if I try to stay seated too long. Predictably, Varyyn is perfectly still—almost stoic. Though I know him better than to assume he's not just as much of a hot mess as I am right now.

“...How're you holding up, Varyyn?” I ask, as much to distract myself as to check in.

“As well as you, I expect,” he sighs. “...I am afraid. I am afraid this will not work. I am afraid of what they might be suffering right now. ...I am afraid that if this does work, we will find Alodia alone and have nothing left to lead us to Diego.”

I grit my teeth, shaking my head hard. “Won't be like that, Varyyn. Don't think like that. They're together. They gotta be together.”

“...We don't know that,” he says softly. “We hope it. But do we really have any evidence that it is true?”

“Why else would they have taken Diego?” I demand. “They weren't together at the time of the abduction, so it wasn't just convenience like with Sean and Michelle. No offense to Diego, but I don't think Rourke really has much use for him in this timeline. He probably doesn't have much use for any of the Catalysts besides Alodia anymore, except to control her. And maybe Diego is useful if he wanted to bait you for some reason, but even then, wouldn't it still make more sense to keep them together, since you could track her if they hadn't blocked it somehow...”

“...It all makes sense...” he admits. “...I just...I can't help but fear...”

I sigh, rubbing my hands over my face. “Of course not. I won't lie, it scares me, too. ...But it makes more sense that they're together. Remember that.”

He nods. “...I feel powerless. I should be able to reach them. I should at least be able to speak to her and confirm that they are unharmed...”

“We all feel powerless here,” Rebecca says. “I'm a detective. I should be able to track and investigate. But because it's a member of my own family, I'm not allowed to help...” She trails off, and the silence that follows is heavy. I think we all want to try and say something comforting or optimistic here, but there's not really anything to say that we haven't already said. We all feel powerless. There's a chance that when we get to Northbridge, we'll have our path made clear for us, but there aren't any guarantees. If this doesn't work...what next?

Grayson

“Are you sure you're up for this, Tahira? You only got out of the hospital yesterday...”

Tahira grits her teeth as she carefully makes her way to her dresser, using crutches to support most of her weight and to keep her stitches from tearing. She's healing fast. Fast enough that eyebrows were raised at the hospital. But not fast enough to have her in fighting shape yet, and she's clearly still in pain. Michelle has cautioned her against heavy lifting, even with her super strength. The only way we were able to confirm that her strength was still intact was by having her bend an iron bar that Dax brought over from the lab. Flying, too, is out right now, though she is still capable of it.

“If this works,” Michelle said last night, “You're basically going to be our tracker, at least for a few days. Let the rest of us do most of the work until I give you the all-clear.”

I cautiously place my hand between her shoulderblades and let my palm move in slow, gentle circles. When she doesn't pull away, I increase the pressure just a little.

“When a person goes missing, the first twenty-four hours are the most crucial,” she says lowly. “...That window has already closed. There's no more time to waste. What we have is already borrowed.”

She pulls out a T-shirt and a pair of jeans from her drawer, and maneuvers herself to take off her pajama top. I sigh.

“Here, let me help you with that. I can't really help with the rescue mission, but I can help you get dressed for it.”

“I think providing us with travel vehicles is extremely helpful,” she says, smiling a little as she carefully raises her arms over her head to let me take her shirt off. I help her on with her clothes, finishing just as the buzzer to her apartment door sounds.

“Tahira? It's Eva and Kenji!” I go to let them in as Tahira settles herself down on the couch. Kenji grins at her as they walk in.

“How's our fearless leader doing? You look like you'll be ready to kick ass again in no time.”

“With any luck, I will at least be ready to do my part when we finally track down Alodia and Diego. Do you have the Crystal, Eva?”

“Haven't let it outta my sight since Caleb tipped us off it they were going after it,” she replies with a mischievous smile, trailing a finger over the chain around her neck. My eyes follow her finger down to where her low-cut top clearly reveals that the pendant on the end is nestled between her breasts. Tahira makes a face as Eva draws the Prism Crystal out of her cleavage.

“That cannot be comfortable...”

Eva shrugs. “You get used to it. Besides....” She grins, waggling her eyebrows. “No way anyone gets to it without me noticing.”

“Yeah, but have you been, like, showering with it in there? Sleeping?”

“Not like water will hurt it. And like I said, you get used to it.”

Tahira rolls her eyes, smirking a little. “Still...maybe I should ask you to wipe off the boob sweat before I try to do anything with it.”

“Tahira, I'm insulted. The very suggestion that I would ever break a sweat...” But she does grab a washcloth out of the basket of clean laundry beside the dresser and rub it over the crystal before handing it to Tahira. “So...what are you going to do with it exactly?”

“I'll start with holding it. Then...I guess I'll think about Alodia...” She shakes her head with a frustrated sigh. “...I'm flying mostly blind here...”

As she closes her hand around the Crystal, we fall silent, not wanting to risk disrupting her concentration. How long will it take, I wonder, before we know if anything is going to happen? I don't have to wonder long. In fact, the thought is barely out of my head before the crystal begins to glow brighter. I hold my breath. For a moment, everything is still except for the bright purple flame dancing beneath the Crystal's surface. Then Tahira's eyes fly open and she gasps softly. I instinctively rush to her side.

“Are you all right? What happened?”

“I'm okay...” she replies dazedly. “...I...think...”

“Did you see anything?” Eva asks. “Do you know where Alodia is?”

“Not exactly, but...” She looks down at the Crystal balanced on her palm, softly pulsing with fuschia light. “I did see her. In flashes. And...I think...”

She stands up and turns a slow circle, keeping her eye on the Crystal. I watch it carefully. It takes a few more circles before I realize what's actually happening, but when I do notice, I feel my heart skip a beat.

“Tahira! The light!”

“Yes!” Tahira cries eagerly, a grin splitting her face! “It dims, except when I start facing this direction! ...What direction am I facing?”

“Northwest-ish,” Kenji says. “Which probably means she isn't on the island...”

Tahira nods. “...If she's even what the Crystal is pointing toward. ...Either way, it's our best lead so far.

* * *

A few more little experiments prove that using the Crystal as a tracking device is a viable option. Although it goes dull when I touch it, Kenji and Eva can both make it react—as can Varyyn and any Catalysts who come in contact with it. And the pulsing light consistently gleams when the one holding it is facing northwest, dimming as they turn south. As soon as is humanly possible, Tahira and her team gather with me and a handful of the Catalysts in the empty executive level of the Prescott Industries parking garage. Two seven-seater SUVs that I rented are the only two vehicles in the place.

“They're both fueled up,” I assure Tahira. “Tire pressure has been checked and there are spares, jacks, and tire irons under the floors.”

“There are also pillows and blankets so you can sleep and drive in shifts and not have to stop as often,” Dax says. “I've also fitted the cars with adaptable communicators so you can communicate through the radios, just in case everyone's cell phones die at the same time. Do you know who's going to be in what car?”

“I'll be with Sean, Tahira, and Jake,” Michelle says. “Since Tahira and Jake aren't cleared to drive just yet, Sean will take the first shift, and Tahira will hold the Crystal to navigate.”

“And Varyyn, Rebecca, and I will follow in the vehicle behind,” Estela adds.

Michelle nods. “I've also got a medical tote stocked. No one mess with that, please. It's not your standard first aid kit. I've also got some sterile towels and blankets double-wrapped in plastic, so hands off those, too. If we find Alodia close to giving birth, we'll need clean towels to lay down for her and something to wrap the baby in.”

“There are also coolers of water, fruit, sandwiches, and about twenty pounds of trail mix,” Quinn adds. “It's not Raj's cooking, and it obviously won't last, but it should mean you don't have to stop for food for a handful of days.”

“I guess we're all set then,” Tahira says. “There's no time to lose. Everyone pile in.”

“Wait...” I catch her hand as she turns toward the car, and pull her in for a kiss, holding her mouth with mine as if I can store up enough of her taste on my lips to tide me over until she gets back. I break away reluctantly and press my forehead to hers. “Good luck. I love you.”

Eva

Kenji and I meet at his apartment that evening. We don't exactly feel safe going back to the clocktower right now, but we don't have a new base of operations yet, either.

“...How much does Caleb actually know now?” I ask him over a cup of heavily-sugared coffee.

“Almost everything. He knows our powers are connected to our DNA, which is connected to the island of La Huerta and a crystal alien that crash-landed here however many billion years ago. He knows that Alodia is that alien's daughter and that Tahira is Alodia's cousin. ...I also basically confirmed that most of what Rourke told him in those interviews is true.”

“And...where is he now?”

Kenji shrugs, talking a long swallow from his coffee mug. “Processing, I guess. He says he can't go back to Gigi anymore. And based on the way their last encounter went, I'm not surprised.”

“And you don't have any reason to think it might be a trick?”

“Just doesn't add up to a trick,” he admits. “He told me he'd originally told Gigi he was going to try to get in good with us to get information out of us, which I know was true. ...But if he was never actually going to turn on her, he probably would have done something to keep us from securing the Prism Crystal once he realized we knew she was going after it. Plus, she was angry enough to try and frame him for burning down the priest's house.”

“...He's out of the hospital, by the way. Don't know where he's living with his house burned out, though.”

“No sign of the kids, either. ...Maybe he's gone after them.”

“Quite honestly, I hope he has. Scoundrel he may be, but I think his intentions towards the kids are good. At least good enough that I'd rather they have him in their corner than be wandering around out there alone. Especially given what's going on now.”

Kenji smiles wryly. “They will have to come back eventually, won't they? Since you still have their dog.”

I snort. “Good luck making me give up that puppy. I think we've bonded.”

“You'll give her up the moment one of those sweet little kids flashes sad doe eyes at you.”

“...Yeah, probably,” I admit. “My cold heart has been defrosting lately. Maybe proof that there's hope for Caleb.”

“There had better be. ...Because if we can't actually trust him, we might be screwed.”

Estela

I am in the office with Aleister and Zahra when the phone on the desk rings. It just barely registers at first, like an acquaintance I give a nod to as I pass on the street. Aleister picks it up.

“Aleister Rourke speaking,” he mutters absently. Then his posture changes. I take notice as he sits up a little straighter. “Raj, hello. Has there been any news.”

My heart wedges in my throat as I sit up to attention. Zahra visibly stiffens as well, her eyebrows knitting as she meets my gaze with anxiety flickering in her dark eyes. Aleister's eyes widen.

“What? Are they sure it's the same one?...” His shoulders sag slightly as he listens to Raj's extended reply. “...Dammit. Does Jake know? ...What are they planning to do?”

There's a longer pause now. Aleister's expression is difficult to read. Zahra stands up from her desk, then awkwardly hovers there as if she's not sure she should come closer.

“...I expect that is the wisest course of action. If the Crystal can track Alodia directly, it would be a waste of time to chase down a lead like that. ...I see. ...Of course. I'll make sure everyone is updated. Thank you. ...I will. ...Goodbye.” He replaces the receiver on the cradle and looks up at me and Zahra in turn. “...That was Raj. The police believe they have found the stolen ambulance that Alodia and Diego were transported in, but it has since been abandoned. They were able to determine that a helicopter took off nearby and they believe Alodia and Diego were on board, but from there, they're having difficulty picking up the trail.”

Zahra and I exchange anxious glances. “...Where was the ambulance found?”

“Cascade mountain range in Oregon. Near Crater Lake.”

“Oregon!” Zahra gasps. “They drove a stolen ambulance from southern California to the Cascade mountains in Oregon and no one noticed until now?!”

“Raj tells me the region around Crater Lake is fairly remote.”

“Maybe, but...” Zahra is already tapping furiously on her phone. After a moment, she turns the screen toward us. “Look, the fastest path to Crater Lake from Riverside is about a twelve-hour drive, straight up through California.”

“They were driving an ambulance,” I point out. “If they had the lights and sirens going, they would have been able to speed and run red lights with impunity. Few people are going to want to impede an ambulance that they think is on the way to save someone's life. Even with the authorities knowing they were likely in a stolen ambulance, I can believe they got as far as Oregon without anyone wanting to risk stopping them. Especially if they swapped the license plate.”

“They still would have needed to stop for gas at some point. And twelve hours trapped in a vehicle can't be good for a pregnant woman. We're still operating under the assumption that Rourke wants Alodia and her baby alive, right?”

“It makes the most sense,” Aleister confirms. “If he just wanted her dead, there are easier ways than kidnapping.”

“What else do we actually know? They found the stolen ambulance, but are they sure Alodia and Diego were inside?”

“They found more than a few hairs inside the vehicle. They matched DNA samples from both Alodia and Diego.”

I nod. “...From what I overheard, I'm guessing Jake and the others aren't going to try to find them in Oregon.”

He shakes his head. “It would be a waste of time, driving some place they have already been removed from when they believe the Prism Crystal can lead them to where Alodia is currently.”

“Why Oregon, though? Why not the island? Why was the Crystal leading them northwest instead of toward the island?”

“...I don't know, Estela. The truth is that we don't know for sure that they don't mean for her to eventually wind up on the island. Maybe the plan is to throw us off the trail.”

I sit back with a frustrated sigh. “...It always feels like our dear father is ten steps ahead of us. The only person who has ever really managed to get the better of him was Alodia when she chose to sacrifice herself for the world.”

“Not entirely true,” Zahra mutters. “...I shot him in at least one timeline.”

“He is a genius and a master manipulator, but he is still human,” Aleister says firmly. “And humans are flawed enough to be outsmarted. Sooner or later, he will make a mistake. I am sure of it.”

Alodia

Something doesn't feel right here. I'm in Elyys'tel. The armor of Andromeda encases my body and gleams gold in the Caribbean sunset. Beneath it, I am wearing my Vaanti warrior's attire. In my hands, I clutch the mask I won in the Valinorim. One hand drifts towards my chest, and my fingers brush the cold metal dogtags that hang on a ball-chain around my neck. My chest is tight, and my head throbs with grief, but I don't cry. I can't cry.

“This isn't going to help, Alodia,” Aleister says solemnly from behind me.

“...They're all dead, Aleister,” I hear myself reply coldly. “He killed them all. Maybe not directly, but he's responsible for all of their deaths.”

“I don't disagree. But killing him won't bring them back.”

I turn to face him, fully prepared to chew him out for his platitudes when he should want his father dead as much as I do. But then I realize what is actually happening.

“...You're going to say that if I insist on joining the battle, you're going to come with me.”

“Of course I am. We're the last Catalysts left. I'm not going to abandon you.”

“...No. You're not. You didn't even betray us this time. You played your father as a double agent. ...When Zahra blew up the MASADA complex, Jake tried to save me. But he was killed in the process and you got me out instead.”

Aleister doesn't seem put off by my explaining what must be recent history to him. “I'm going to die in the coming battle. I have learned that you're the one my father needs to complete his Janus Project. I don't know why yet, but I know that much. I die to keep you from falling into his hands.”

“...And then I bury the last of my family. And I die...and the timeline resets because I can't let it end like this...I can't let any of you die...”

Aleister reaches out to place a hand on my shoulder. “You can't change what's already happened, Alodia.”

“...I don't want to watch it happen again...”

“You don't have to. You know that.” His eyes flick downward. “Don't waste your time on a battle that's already been fought when you have a much more important one to worry about in the here and now.”

I follow his gaze downward, and dark static floods my vision.

The soft flutter of tiny limbs inside me brings me back to consciousness. The pressure on my bladder is unbearable. I push back the itchy blanket that barely keeps out the cold and struggle off the cheap cot I fell asleep on. The thin plastic mattress creaks as I get to my feet, and I hear a gasp and small movement from the cot beside me.

“Allie...?” Diego's voice is anxious, but still clumsy with sleep.

“I'm okay,” I call back. “I just need to pee.”

I make my way to the corner. We've been moved again. There's no en suite toilet in this concrete basement we've been stuck in this time. Only a plastic toddler toilet—the kind Jake and I will be buying in another year or two. ...That is...if I ever see him again... If we ever get to go back to our home in California and lay our daughter in her crib in her jungle-themed nursery...

Lowering myself onto the seat is an arduous and undignified process. I feel tears on my cheeks by the time I manage to relieve myself, and my hand trembles as I wipe with a cheap, rough paper towel—the only thing we've been provided with. By the time I have gotten through the equally undignified process of standing back up and dragging my gray sweatpants back up over my bulging waistline, I am sobbing. I only get a few steps closer to my cot before Diego takes me in his arms and gently draws me against him. I bury my face in his shoulder. When he leans his head against mine, I feel the subtle prickle of facial hair where his cheek briefly brushes my ear.

He doesn't say anything. Our supply of comforting words has all but dried up. Escape seems impossible with me as I am, especially when we don't have any idea how many of them are actually guarding us or how far we are from civilization. We've all but admitted aloud that rescue is our only hope.

I don't want to obey them. I want to defy them. I want to fight them tooth and nail. But I can't fight them while I am sheltering a child within me. And disobedience only gets Diego hurt. So far, the damage has not been permanent. But I don't know if I can keep him safe indefinitely, even if I kill any will to fight that might be left in me.

It's only a matter of time. If help doesn't come for us, it's only a matter of time before they break me.

Diego

I wish I had access to a razor. Or some scissors. The scissors more than the razor, I think. I don't really mind the growth of hair over my face as much as the hair on my head, which is shaggy enough now to get into my eyes, but not long enough to hook behind my ears. It's funny the things I think about when I'm trying not to break apart.

I'm scared. I'm really scared. I'm scared for Allie. I'm scared for her baby. I'm scared for myself. I'm scared of the fact that I can't rely on Allie right now like I almost always could before. It's not her fault, of course. She just needs me to be the brave one right now, and that terrifies me. But damned if I'm not going to do it. Damned if I'm not going to swallow my fear and hold her hand to get her through this nightmare. Damned if I'm not going to look for an opportunity to escape at every new prison they move us to. I know our best option is probably going to be to wait for someone to find us. But I have to keep watching. It helps me keep it together.

We're bound and blindfolded every time they move us. Sometimes we travel by chopper, sometimes by car or van or whatever they're driving. Maybe an ambulance again. We're not long in the concrete basement prison, which I appreciate, because it's really freaking uncomfortable. It's some kind of van that moves us this time. At least we're actually seated and buckled in this time, even if our hands end up tied to what I think must be the handles of the hooks a lot of cars have on the ceiling for hanging up dress clothes.

“Hey, Allie...” I say lightly, turning my head vaguely toward the weight on the seat beside me. “Is there a name for these things we're tied up to?”

I don't know if there's a partition between us and the drivers. I don't know if they can hear us. I am guessing there aren't any windows to either side of us since two people blindfolded in the back seat with their hands tied to the ceiling would probably be conspicuous. But if the driver can hear us, I don't want them to hear us scared.

“I...I don't know,” she replies. Her voice shakes a little, but she's trying to sound nonchalant, so it seems she's picked up what I'm putting down here. “Dress hooks, I guess? Handles? Before cars had seatbelts, some of them had handles for passengers to hold onto, but I don't think there was any special name for them.”

“Where do you think we're going this time? Another nice farmhouse?”

“I hope so. The farmhouse has definitely been my favorite on this vacation. The last place was shit, though.”

“Total shit,” I agree.

We let our conversation be sparse after that, and when we do speak, it's about silly memories from our childhood. We try to remember the rules to a game our first grade P.E. teacher had taught to the class that was like a slightly more complicated version of group tag, except it involved us all playing characters from Star Wars. We try to name all the seasons of Power Rangers that we grew up with. We try to recite the poems we had to memorize for our last literature class in high school.

Allie is nearly through Rudyard Kipling when the van stops and the engine turns off. Although my adrenaline spikes, I can't help but feel a little relieved, too. My hands are starting to go numb. I'm cut loose and I flex my fingers a few times, hissing softly as the feeling floods back into them. I don't resist as they hustle me out of the van and into whatever prison awaits us now. The air outside is bitingly cold, and the ground beneath my feet is hard. The sound my shoes make slapping against it makes me think pavement. Then, the cold air is replaced by surprisingly pleasant warmth. Central heating. A good sign. A less good sign is the way the soles of my shoes are squeaking and sticking against the floor now. I'm thinking this is tile I'm walking on.

We are finally allowed to stop, and my blindfold is removed. The florescent light might as well be sunlight for a moment, but when my eyes start to adjust, a deep, cold dread settles in the pit of my stomach.

The windowless room we're in resembles a doctor's office, with an exam table, cabinets, a sink, and medical instruments hanging from the wall. There are no decorations, though. Nothing to make it welcoming. Which makes the woman standing beside the exam table in full surgical gear—including goggles—all the more ominous. I can't really see anything about what she looks like. I mean, I can tell she's white, and her eyes look brown behind the goggles, but the blue surgical cap isn't giving me a good look at her hair color, and average height aside, I can't tell anything about her build under the shapeless surgical gown.

I don't like where this is going one bit. Neither does Allie judging by her sharp gasp as she takes in the scene. I press close to her, putting my arms protectively around her.

“What is this?!” I demand. “What are you doing?! Who is she?!”

The strange woman spreads her hands, taking a cautious step toward us. “Calm down, Alodia. I am not here to hurt you. I only want to give you a proper exam.”

Allie grips my arm. “Bullshit,” she hisses.

“Watch it, brat!” Fiddler snaps. “Unless you want your friend to suffer for your rudeness.”

“Stay your hand, Jeanine,” the surgeon-woman says mildly. “Just this once, let's try to work with Alodia instead of against her. I am sure she can be made to see reason here without resorting to violence against Diego.”

I can't figure out what it is, but there is something about her voice. My anxiety is ebbing away as I rack my brain trying to place it, but I'm still alert enough to keep my arms firmly around Allie, who glares at the woman.

“Don't touch me!” she snarls.

“I will not touch you if you don't want me to,” the woman promises. “But it would be in your best interests and your baby's best interests to let me give you an examination. Why don't we make a deal, hmm? Jeanine and her soldiers wait outside. Diego can stay in here with you. And you and I can figure out from there how close you want me to get. Sound good?”

“Hardly!” Fiddler scoffs before Allie can answer. “Leave these two alone in here with you? With no one to make sure they don't stab you with your own scalpel?”

“I don't have a scalpel in here, Jeanine,” the woman replies, sounding amused. “And killing me would hardly do them any good with you and your troops standing outside the only exit. Lock the door if it makes you feel better. I will knock when we're finished. ...What do you say to that, Alodia?”

Allie hesitates, looking uncertainly at me. I shrug helplessly. This is crazy. This is totally crazy. Somehow, Rourke has hired an evil obstetrician who is apparently totally okay with the fact that Fiddler and her goons have kidnapped a pregnant woman, but still wants to act like a not-evil doctor by respecting patient boundaries? I can't even comprehend the level of insane that is happening in front of me right now, and I once fought an actual three-headed sea monster. But what kind of choice do we actually have here? This weird woman's offer certainly sounds preferable to any possible alternative. Allie seems to agree, because she slowly nods.

“Excellent. It's decided then. Jeanine, if you would be so kind as to clear out and give the patient a little privacy?”

Fiddler looks like she's going to argue at first, but then she purses her lips, turns on her heel, and stalks out with her goons following behind her. The woman goes to shoo them out, and that's when I see it: a barely detectable green shimmer at the edge of her mask.

Before I can quite process what I've just seen, I hear the door lock from the outside, and the woman turns back to us.

“All right. Now that we have a little privacy...”

The woman touches the stud sparkling in her earlobe, and her white skin dissolves into green as her holographic disguise melts away. She pulls off her surgical cap, revealing her hair underneath—half-lavender and half-bubblegum pink—swept back into a french braid. Now I know why her voice sounded so familiar.

“...Clockmaker...?!”

8 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

nobody knows where we might end up (branjie) - holtzmanns

(read on ao3) | (tumblr)

Summary: Brooke makes eye contact with Vanessa - no, Dr. Mateo - and has to resist the strange urge in her chest that wants her to bolt for the nearest door and leave the fucking hospital. Blood is rushing in her ears and it’s a bit harder to breathe and she’s pretty sure that her lungs should be at full capacity. So why does she feel like she’s about to keel over?

“Oh, we’ve definitely met.” Dr. Mateo’s voice is wry, her eyes narrowing in Brooke’s direction.

Fuck. She’s Dr. Hytes, for Pete’s sake. Neurosurgery god. She’s not going to be intimidated by a cardiothoracic surgeon, of all people, no matter their past… history.

Hospital AU.

AN: I’ve had some free time recently and surprise surprise, started another multichap fic. Special thanks to writ for listening to me ramble about this idea, helping me brainstorm, and betaing (as well as providing hilarious commentary). Also thanks to multifandomgeek for being totally understanding of me having a WIP with a similar prompt to their latest fic even though they’ve both turned out so different, as well as for being a great cheerleader of mine and having the cutest headcanons for it. Enjoy!

(then)

“Welcome to Human Physiology One.” The professor’s voice is sharp as he surveys the packed lecture hall with a beady gaze.

Brooke unconsciously straightens in her seat. Her fingers drum against her desk, a mixture of nervous energy and excitement alike.

She’s made it to the University of Toronto for Health Sciences at the undergraduate level, which means she’s one step closer to getting into U of T’s prestigious medical school a few years down the line. She’s already secured shadowing and volunteer jobs in most of the hospitals located along Hospital Row, because, well, she has to.

How else is she going to become a surgeon?

The professor continues on. “This course is going to cover all of the major bodily systems - circulatory, neurological, urological, immune systems, and more at the basic level. Enough to give you a general understanding of how they work.”

He fixes them with a beady gaze. “Make no mistake, though. The introductory nature of this class doesn’t mean that it’ll be easy like the rest of your 100 level courses. If you are expecting such, feel free to leave through the doors now.”

No one does.

“Very well.” The professor pulls up a PowerPoint. “You can read the syllabus on your own time. We’re starting on neuro.”

“Sorry, excuse me, sorry-” Brooke looks over to see her row being disrupted as a girl in an oversized jacket that brushes her thighs shuffles in towards the only empty seat left in the lecture hall. The one beside Brooke.

Brooke feels a flash of irritation. Who’s late on the first damn day?

The girl settles in, dropping her messenger bag and pulling out her laptop. She flashes a smile at Brooke, one that falters when Brooke doesn’t immediately return it.

Brooke turns away from the girl, turning her attention back to the lecture. Her hands fly over her keyboard, writing down everything that is coming out of the professor’s mouth because what if something he mentions now ends up being really important and shows up on the final exam? She doesn’t want to miss anything.

Except for the fact that the girl’s leg is bouncing up and down beside her.

Brooke’s trying to write a note about synapses and neural clefts, but the girl is twitching so much, leg bouncing on her seat, that she finds focusing on the professor’s voice practically impossible. The edge of the girl’s shirt-dress is rising higher and higher over her thighs, revealing more and more of her fishnet tights underneath-

Nope. Brooke’s gotta focus. She’s missed at least two things that the professor’s said already and it’s only the first lecture. She can’t start off like this.

Brooke keeps typing, albeit a bit slower because the girl’s bouncing leg is incredibly distracting and god fucking damn it, why can’t people just sit still in class?

But then the girl raises her hand, leaning forward in her seat and Brooke realizes that she’s missed the question that the professor has asked the class. Shit.

“Yes, you.”

“In an action potential, sodium ions rush into the axon and de-dep-depolarize it.” The girl rattles off the information like she’s fucking Hermione Granger or something, though a little less refined.

“Exactly.” The professor looks pleased. Damn it. “And your name is?”

“Vanessa.” The girl, Vanessa, looks satisfied with herself, leaning back in her seat and returning her attention to her laptop.

Bouncing her fucking leg once more, because of course she is. But Brooke’s not going to be distracted by her again. She’s going to get the next question, because that’s what she does.

Her hand shoots up before the professor even finishes speaking.

“Yes?”

“Acetylcholine is the neurotransmitter that is necessary to complete the reaction.” Brooke rattles off the information that’s thankfully familiar to her from grade twelve biology with ease.

“Very good.” Brooke feels an air of pride rush through her at the professor’s words. “Name?”

“Brooke.” Not a bad idea to make herself familiar with the professors in all of her classes from week one. Put herself on their radars.

“Excellent, Brooke.” The professor turns back to his lecture slides then, oblivious to the rush of adrenaline that’s currently going through Brooke’s system.

She’s pathetic sometimes, she really is. But hey, if it gets her the good marks that she’s going to need in the future, does it even matter?

Vanessa answers question after question and asks ones of her own that make Brooke stop and think along with the professor. Brooke has to admit to herself, albeit bregrudgingly, that Vanessa is smart. Really smart. It’s undeniable, from the way her hand pops up every five minutes.

Brooke may or may not be feeling a little threatened, intimidated by the girl beside her - how’d Vanessa get so smart? And why hasn’t Brooke thought of the questions she’s asking, like the one about hyperpolarization?

Brooke shoots another look at Vanessa from behind her hair, hoping that she isn’t too obvious. In her earlier annoyance, she’s missed how pretty the girl is. Vanessa runs a hand through her hair, pushing the dark waves out of her face and leaning forward to type notes with her other hand.

“Brooke?”

“Huh?” Fuck. She’s completely missed the professor’s question. Of course. Typical of her to do something so stupid on the first day.

Brooke starts to rack her brain for a generic answer based on the lecture slide when Vanessa nudges her. “Graded potentials. That’s the answer. Say it.”

Well. She has nothing to lose at this point, does she?

“Graded potentials?” Brooke says it loud enough for the professor to hear, though she almost doesn’t hear her voice herself from how loud her heart feels like it’s beating.

“Good.” He continues on without a second look at their row, and Brooke lets out a sigh of relief.

Vanessa truly, utterly saving her ass isn’t what she expected, but she’ll take what she can get. “Jeez. Thank you so much.”

“It’s no big.” Vanessa’s smiling at her again, one that reaches her eyes and makes them crinkle and on an unrelated note, Brooke feels her stomach flipping with what must be indigestion. “Brooke, right?”

“Yeah.” She whispers it because the professor is still talking, after all. “Vanessa?”

“That’s me. My friends call me Vanjie, though.”

Brooke wrinkles her nose. “How’d you get that nickname from the name Vanessa?”

“I didn’t.” Vanessa winks at her but then turns back to the front, lifting up a hand to answer a question before Brooke can protest.

How did she even catch the question that the professor asked in the first place?

Brooke tries her best to go back to paying attention, but it’s hard when Vanessa is beside her and some of her long hair is on Brooke’s desk, looking really soft. Brooke has to resist touching it - she’s not a creep.

Brooke’s notes during the rest of the lecture are most definitely not up to her usual standards, though she only has herself to blame for it. She’ll do better next time. She has to.

Though if Vanessa’s beside her again, she may have a problem. Not that she’s all too mad about it anymore.

Vanessa’s out of her seat the second that the professor wraps up, pulling on her oversized jacket on top of her shirt dress. She sticks her laptop into her messenger bag before turning towards Brooke, who definitely has not been watching Vanessa the entire time. Nope. Absolutely not.

“So, you this keen in all of your classes?” Vanessa has a smile on her face as she says it.

“I’m not a nerd.” Brooke’s protests are feeble because she kind of is - not that she wants to admit it.

“Didn’t say you were. It’s kinda cute, though.” With that Vanessa winks, pulling her bag onto her shoulder and heading towards the aisle to leave the lecture hall.

“This time next week?” Vanessa shouts it at her from the aisle as she leaves, and for some reason it makes Brooke flush crimson.

The lecture hall is almost empty before she realizes that she has to pack up her own books and leave, too.

(now)

“The resection is scheduled for tomorrow at 2 PM. Bar any information that we’ve possibly missed in our review just now - which is highly unlikely - the surgery should be successful, leaving Mrs. Reynolds tumour-free in no time at all.”

No members of the surgery team, not the nurses, the anesthesiologist, nor any technicians question Brooke’s words. Just how she likes it.

No one mentions that the success rate for this particular pituitary gland tumour removal is less than 10%. Because with Brooke, odds like these don’t matter.

She’s that good.

Brooke wraps up the preoperative meeting with a wave of her hand, letting the members of her surgical team leave to return to their respective duties.

She checks her watch. She has a craniotomy scheduled to take place in half an hour, then a consult with a particularly complex patient and the team at 3, then some time allotted for her research. A pretty breezy day by her standards.

Brooke heads in the direction of the hospital Starbucks next, intent on gulping down a double espresso before her next operation. Can’t be opening up a patient’s skull uncaffeinated and tired.

“Dr. Hytes!” Brooke’s head snaps up at her name while she’s waiting for her drink order to be ready. No one is usually bold enough to call for her like that except for-

“Dr. West.” Nina West, Chief of Hospital and pediatric attending surgeon, not to mention Brooke’s fellow alumni from medical school.

“I was hoping I’d catch you. Got some pretty exciting news.” Nina’s eyes are practically sparkling.

Brooke takes a sip of her drink. “The only thing that could explain that smile is if we’ve finally hired a worthy-”

“We finally have a new cardiothoracic surgery head!” Nina’s excitement radiates off of her in waves. Sometimes, she reminds Brooke of a Disney character. “Someone who is actually renowned and has appropriate qualifications and who I had to fight off St. Joe’s Hospital for. But we got her!”

“Must be someone pretty incredible to get you this excited.” Brooke is curious as to who could have gotten Nina this riled up. Brooke had declined a spot on the selection committee a few months prior, busy at the time with one of her research trials. She hasn’t heard any gossip on the floors as to who the chosen candidate could be. Not that Nina will be able to hold it back for much longer.

“I’m supposed to give her a tour of the cardio floors and the team today. She’s just moved back to Toronto, so she’s starting next week. In fact, she should be in the atrium here any moment now.” Nina cranes her neck, trying to look around the space.

“You still haven’t told me who-”

Brooke is cut off when Nina calls out, looking past Brooke towards someone behind her. “Dr. Mateo! So nice to see you again!”

Mateo?

No. Couldn’t be.

“Wonderful to see you too, Dr. West.”

There’s no mistaking that voice.

Fuck . She’s screwed.

“Have you met Dr. Hytes? Pride of our neurosurgery department. A bit separate from your cardiothoracic surgery expertise, but maybe you two have run into each other sometime at a conference before?” Nina’s grabbing Brooke’s shoulders, turning her around to face her and Brooke winces, squeezes her eyes shuts because no, no, no.

Except when she opens her eyes, there she is. In the flesh. Nearly eleven years later.

She has the same wavy long hair but has swapped her undergraduate outfits for a pencil skirt and blazer and immaculate makeup and fuck.

She looks good.

Brooke makes eye contact with Vanessa - no, Dr. Mateo - and has to resist the strange urge in her chest that wants her to bolt for the nearest door and leave the fucking hospital. Blood is rushing in her ears and it’s a bit harder to breathe and she’s pretty sure that her lungs should be at full capacity. So why does she feel like she’s about to keel over?

“Oh, we’ve definitely met.” Dr. Mateo’s voice is wry, her eyes narrowing in Brooke’s direction.

Fuck. She’s Dr. Hytes, for Pete’s sake. Neurosurgery god. She’s not going to be intimidated by a cardiothoracic surgeon, of all people, no matter their past… history.

It doesn’t matter. Brooke’s a professional. She’s the shit. Everyone in this hospital knows it.

So she puts on her best neutral facial expression, walks up to Dr. Mateo. Towers over her, naturally (like she always used to, not that it matters). Raises an eyebrow.

Dr. Mateo stares right back. Still makes Brooke’s heart flip in the same way.

Nah, probably just some acid reflux. She needs a Tums.

“Nice to see you again.” Brooke says it with a tone that implies that it most definitely is not nice to see her again, no ma’am.

Not that it’ll matter. They’re completely different disciplines. Who’s to say that they’ll even interact?

“I could say the same.” Dr. Mateo’s tone, meanwhile, implies that she most definitely cannot say the same. But considering how things ended, who can blame her?

Brooke chances a glance at Nina, who looks really fucking confused, her nose wrinkling. It makes Brooke want to laugh. Oh, Nina. Not quite privy to this part of Brooke’s history.

Who needs to know? It had happened a decade ago. She’s moved on, she’s a professional. They’re both professionals. They can act like it.

Right?

Brooke takes a final sip of her drink, turning away to toss the cup into the trash. She fixes both of them with a blank stare, lips pursed.

“Need to leave now or I’m going to be late for my 1:00. Shame.” As if Brooke isn’t absolutely itching to remove herself from the conversation, get as far away from her as possible because fuck, she really should have joined the selection committee and vetoed Dr. Mateo from the list of candidates.

“See you around the hospital, Dr. Mateo.” Brooke turns on her heel, walking away before Dr. Mateo even has a chance to answer.

Power or cowardly move? She can’t decide. But she needs the distance, needs to get away from Dr. Mateo and the memories that are rushing back to her, ones that she had locked away in the recesses of her brain because they were too much to deal with.

Brooke only lets out a breath and drops her head into her hands once she’s in a mercifully empty elevator. The closing doors feel a world away from Nina’s confused stare and Dr. Mateo’s disdainful look, neither of which she wants to deal with again anytime soon.

She’s interacted with exes before, remaining friends with quite a few of them, but something about Dr. Mateo makes her feel like she’s a time bomb, about to explode any second from the rush of memories and useless emotions that she doesn’t care for at all, at this moment.

Brooke needs to go to pre-op, get ready to scrub in and find her team, but her brain is finding it hard to focus on her plan for the upcoming surgery because Jesus Christ.

She’s fucked.

#rpdr fanfiction #branjie #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #lesbian au #hospital au #greys anatomy au #holtzmanns #nobody knows where we might end up #submission

41 notes · View notes

likethetailofacomet · 5 years

Text

Aftermath

A/N: OH BOY. Sorry to rain on your fluffy friday everyone, but I had to get this out of my head because it’s been festering in there for weeks. I see maybe two more chapters and then we are finished with this mess. But for now, there is plenty of cleanup to be done.

Warning: Angst, angst and...oh...more angst. cool.

Pairing: Drake x Claire

Word Count: 4,894

He was striding through the back hallway, taking the steps two at a time, blood from a gash above his right eye dripping down, obscuring his vision. He swiped it away, feeling nothing from the deep cut that stopped just centimeters from his eye, adrenaline coursing through him and blocking the pain signals in his brain. He burst through the fire exit door on the emergency floor, and headed to the secret wing of the hospital where he knew they’d taken Drake and Liam. His chest burned and his mind reeled, needing to know the hard facts, needing to know if they were safe... alive... needing...

He rounded the corner and was stopped in his tracks by her-by the sight of her, on the ground, her blood stained gown spread out, dirty and torn, the magic of it gone, the spell worn off. Her arm and throat had been bandaged, white wrappings covering both wounds, her hair falling from its twist, the silver comb hanging limply from the side of her head. Her back was pressed against the wall, her eyes closed, chest barely moving as she took just the smallest breaths necessary, hollow and ragged. Her face was streaked with her makeup from the way her tears had poured down her cheeks- she looked less like herself than he’d ever seen her, and it gripped his heart with an icy fist, twisting and squeezing. Movement in his peripheral vision made him turn his head to the right, where Lady Olivia was approaching him, nervous worry painted on her face, rearranging her normally strong, fierce features. She was sporting her own bandage around her left hand and wrist and her dress was torn at the knees, but otherwise looked unharmed. “Bastien,” her voice was softer than normal, but not shaking or wavering, which he took as a good sign- surely if... surely she’d be in worse shape if she’d heard... he shook his head and focused on the woman before him, wiping at his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket. “Bastien, I tried to get her off the floor... she just... she won’t move...” her eyes flicked over to Claire sadly and then settled back on his. “Drake?” He asked, his heart threatening to stop, to give out and quit on him. “In surgery,” Olivia answered. “But that’s…that’s all I know,” her already pale complexion lost a bit more color. “He just…Bastien, he lost a lot of blood and…” she shook her head a little and forced some of the strength back into her voice. “But we don’t know anything yet, so,” she cleared her throat. “So we just need to stay positive until we do know.”

Bastien felt some anxiety dissipate at those words and the renewed resolve in her voice, and let out the breath he’d been holding. Drake was alive. “Liam?” He asked next, Olivia not at all surprised by the sequence in which he asked. She grimaced. “Also in surgery... the knife slipped between his ribs but didn’t do any major damage to any of his organs... that’s all they were able to tell me. He’s…he’s very lucky, is what they said.”

Bastien felt some of the sting return above his eye brow as he sighed and let his shoulders relax, just a bit. “Thank you, Lady Olivia.” He set his sharp eyes on Claire and Olivia saw his face fall at how broken and scared she looked. “She’s a mess, Bastien,” she whispered, “I... I tried, she won’t let me help her.”

He nodded, resting his hand on Olivia’s shoulder lightly. “I’ll talk to her,” he locked eyes with her and saw genuine concern there. Olivia may have had a prickly past but it seemed she was trying to change, and Bastien knew she was a powerful and loyal ally. He was glad she’d been there for Claire, for Drake. “Clean this up first,” she muttered, motioning to his forehead. “She doesn’t need to see this, and we don’t need you keeling over from blood loss.” She reached for the supply cart against the wall and grabbed an alcohol swab, tearing it open. Before he could move she dabbed it to the wound over his eye, the sting becoming a brilliant, blinding burn. He grit his teeth as she used sterile gauze to clean the cut before pulling open three steri-strips to close the wound with. It would just be temporary, he’d need stitches later, but it’d do for now. “There,” she said, her thin fingers falling from his face. “Thank you,” He said again, this time with a bit more baritone to his voice.

_ _ _ _

Claire blinked. She hadn't been sleeping, but she wasn't awake either, stuck in a bubble free from time and oxygen and feeling. She guessed that she was breathing because she was still alive, though she didn't understand how. They told her that the bullets had ripped through his shoulder and chest, catching an artery and destroying the muscle tissue, that one had grazed her arm as she rushed towards him. They told her that she'd suffered a three inch laceration to the side of her throat from where Alex had pressed the blade against and into her skin. She supposed that she should believe them- bandages covered both areas- though she couldn’t remember feeling anything. Not when it happened, not when they cleaned and dressed her wounds, and not now, sitting in the chair between Olivia and Bastien. Lifting her head she realized she'd slumped over onto the silver eyed man's shoulder, and that he'd not only let her, but had put his arm around her. She had no recollection of how she had gotten to where she sat, or, looking down at herself, when she'd changed out of her dress, or where the sweatpants and t-shirt she was now wearing had come from. She picked her head fully up and off of Bastien's shoulder and was met with his eyes, concern and anguish filling their liquid metallic depths. She felt fresh tears well in her eyes realizing that it must have been him- he must have picked her up- yes, she remembers being on the floor, and then strong arms lifting her. He must have gotten her and Olivia new clothes from somewhere, must have had a nurse help her out of her torn, blood stained gown.

Blood stained.

Blood.

His.

Drake.

Her eyes went wide and her breathing started coming in quick, painful, short, gasps again. Her sudden alarm drew Olivia's attention, the Duchess turning to face her, a hand suspended in the air, not sure if she should touch her.

“Claire, it's alright, shh, it's alright,” Bastien was already soothing her, his normally severe and serious tone replaced by a much softer one that Olivia had never known him to use. He removed the arm he had around her and turned in his seat to face her, and when he did it stopped his heart for a second as he saw a flash of Annabelle's tear stained face pleading with him to quit after suffering an injury in the line of duty. As quickly as the flash struck it faded, and he was once again looking at Claire Berkley, and not the love he'd lost all those years ago. He shook her from his mind as best as he could- she'd always be there, but he forced her to the background as he focused on the woman before him, focused on trying to do a better job offering her comfort than he had with Annabelle. He opened his arms for her and she wordlessly leaned into him, sobbing as he held her gently, locking eyes with Olivia over her head. “I know,” he said, using every ounce of his resolve to keep his voice from breaking, to keep from joining her as they waited to hear the news about the people they loved. “I know...I know...” it was all he could say. He did know.

Olivia stood, biting her bottom lip. “I'm going to see about an update,” she said flatly, just wanting to be doing something to help, anything at all. Just wanting to give her own brain something else to do for a minute. Bastien nodded, checking his watch. He'd been there for about two hours now, and knew based on what Olivia had told him upon his arrival that they'd be hearing something soon. He silently prayed to every god he could think of that the news would be good. He knew Claire couldn't take it if it wasn't; was sure that he couldn't either. He cleared his throat as her sobbing gave way to quiet whimpers and sniffles, sheer and utter exhaustion making it impossible to cry anymore.

“I love him, Bastien,” she rasped quietly into the fabric of his now wrinkled shirt. “He can’t die…I love him. We never even got a real chance….Bas…he can’t…” Her eyes widened then, as her mind filled with the image of Drake lying on the ground as Olivia dragged her to safety, the bright vermillion stain on his shirt growing and spreading into a pool on the floor. She thought back to the way she’d pressed her hands to his wound and felt how rapidly he was losing blood. She remembered insisting that she wouldn’t leave him; remembered him insisting that she had to. What she couldn’t remember, because it hadn’t happened, was telling him that she loved him before being pulled from the room and thrust into a vehicle. Her hand came up to cover her mouth as she drew in a sharp breath that cut at her insides. I didn’t say it. I didn’t say I love you before I left him and now… “Bastien, I didn’t say it. I didn’t tell him that I love him,” her words were tumbling out frantically. And now it might be too late. Now he might be stolen away from me.

Her words and the distressed, keening quality her normally clear and musical voice took on sent fresh daggers to his heart. “He knows, Claire, it’s okay. He knows, of course he knows.” This needs to stop. He thought, Bianca, Annabelle, Claire...

Before he could finish his thought, the door that Olivia had vanished through opened again and she came back, a young, sharp- eyed doctor at her heels. Claire felt the air thicken, could feel the minute hand in her mind stop, paused right before the chime. She fought hard to stand, raising her trembling eyes to meet the cool green, are they too calm? depths of the doctor’s eyes, letting her arms hang loosely at her sides. She felt her mouth fall open as a few phantom sobs still slipped out, and she blinked hard and took a deep shuddering breath before snapping it shut and pressing her lips together. She took a step closer to Bastien and felt Olivia do the same, taking a step right behind her as the Dr. introduced herself. Her name went unregistered by Claire, the dull hum of the florescent lightbulbs filling her ears.

“Is there news?” Bastien engaged his professional voice and Claire felt herself ache for him as she realized that this was work for him; he was at work right now, needing to be professional and collected as he interacts with the people who hold the fate of Cordonia’s leader in their hands, who hold the fate of his surrogate son.

The doctor nodded and looked down at her clipboard before flicking her eyes up to meet each of theirs. “King Liam,” she began and Claire noted that this was the first time she had heard anyone refer to Liam as King, but by default, even though the coronation hadn’t officially happened, that’s what he was now. “King Liam is out of surgery. He’s still in recovery, and is expected to wake up within the hour. He suffered a minor laceration to the small intestine and is being monitored and preventatively treated against all manner of infection. His surgical procedure to repair the laceration was successful, and he is expected to make a full recovery with no lasting effects.”

Claire heard Olivia release the breath she’d been holding, felt relief fall from both Olivia and Bastien. She was, of course, happy to hear that Liam would pull through, that he’d made it successfully out of surgery, and that Cordonia would have the King it deserved. But she hadn’t heard the news that her heart was hinging on, and that fact wasn’t lost on her.

“If you’d like to come with me,” the doctor was addressing Bastien, indicating that he should follow her to Liam’s room, already half turned away and heading back the way she had come.

“What about Drake?” Claire heard her own voice fill the air. Bastien hesitated.

The doctor turned back to fully face her and blinked once before checking her clip board and returning her glance to Claire. “I’m sorry; I don’t have an update on Mr. Walker at this time. As far as I know he’s still in surgery.”

“As far as…” Claire let out a breath that came from the back of her throat, from the depths of her lungs. “As far as you know?” she asked, repeating the doctor’s words incredulously. They had been waiting for over two and a half hours and no one had told them anything about him yet. Aside from how much blood he’d lost. Aside from how much damage there was.

The doctor softened her gaze if only slightly. “Yes ma’am, that’s correct. When I have an update, I promise to make sure that you are told. Alright?”

Claire felt the room become smaller as her heart thumped wildly. She doesn’t care. How could she not care? Because he’s not a prince or a king or a duke? “No, it’s not alright,” She could feel the shaking starting again and the searing heat of the fire in her blood. She was vaguely aware of Bastien’s hands on her shoulders, but he underestimated the amount of force necessary to restrain her and she shrugged him off. “Okay, who knows then?” She wiped at her eyes and dragged a hand through her hair. “Who can I ask, huh? Who knows? Who can I ask?” she began looking around as though the room were full of medical professionals that might have some news for her. “Who can tell me about Drake?!” When the doctor didn’t answer right away she brought her palms up to shove at the woman’s shoulders. “Who?” she demanded again, dissolving into tears. Bastien didn’t make the same mistake twice, this time wrapping both arms around her and pulling her away from the doctor, who’s green eyes flashed and lost all of the calm that had been there before.

“Is she going to be a problem? Do I need to call security?” the doctor asked of whoever would answer.

“No,” Olivia’s response was firm and definitive. She looked over and locked eyes with Claire. “No, she won’t be a problem. She’s just concerned about the man she loves. Right, Claire?”

Claire tearfully nodded and relaxed as Bastien let go of her. The doctor nodded and again motioned for Bastien to follow her. “I need to go now, Claire,” he told her. “I need to be with King Liam. As soon as I can, I’ll be back and if there is any news on Drake before I come back,” he turned to the doctor and addressed her, “You’ll come get me, correct, Dr. Morgan?” The doctor nodded and responded affirmatively. He turned back to Claire and his eyes were nothing but comfort and conviction. “He’s going to pull through, Claire. You have to believe that. He needs you to believe that.” His forehead creased and un-creased as he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek before following the doctor and leaving her with Olivia.

Claire felt hollow and brittle as she watched the door swing closed. The old crippling fear that had been chasing her since she lost her father awakened in her veins; everyone I love leaves. Dad, Mom, Brielle… she refused to think his name despite the way the fear was whispering it to her. She tried to use her coping method, taking three deep breathes. But as she looked around the sterile white space she couldn’t find anything green, couldn’t find anything in color at all- as though her ability to interpret colors was somehow connected to Drake. She only felt less at ease. She gave up and let her shoulders sag.

“He’s strong, you know.” Olivia said, her tone even. She was still right beside her, and Claire turned her head to face her. Olivia crossed her arms over her chest and a small, wistful smile made her lips twitch though her eyes remained sad. “Drake. He’s so strong. Stronger than me, and that’s saying something.” She exhaled quickly through her nose as her lips dropped back to a neutral position. “He’s been through just about every type of loss a man can go through.” She sighed, “But he always pulls through, always finds a way to keep going. It’s one of the things I’ve always loved about him- no matter how hard he gets kicked, he always gets back up. If you can breathe you can stand, and if you can stand you can fight. Those are the Nevrakis family words, and he lives those words with more truth than most of my relatives did.” Claire listened raptly. This was as much interaction as she’d had with Olivia, but this was an entirely different person than she’d known the woman to be. She was getting a glimpse at what Liam had said about Olivia meaning well, and was learning for herself how true it was. Olivia dropped her arms and looked down at her feet as she continued. “I will always regret treating him the way that I did, Claire. He never deserved it.” She lifted her eyes back to Claire’s. “And because of how I treated him, I never deserved him. I can see that now. I can see it because I see how much love there is between the two of you. Like I said, he’s one of the strongest men I know. But he’s never been as strong as your love makes him.” She reached down and took Claire’s hand and squeezed it, taking her completely off guard. “He’s going to fight, Claire, I know he is. He’s going to fight because he won’t give up on you.”

Claire nodded as a few tears slipped down her cheeks. She felt Olivia’s arms encircle her and allowed herself to be held as exhaustion set in. She felt weightless, like she was floating above her body, like none of this could possibly be real and any moment she’d wake screaming from a dream and his thumbs would come to brush her tears away. But at the same time she felt the crushing weight of reality pressing down on her, and realized she was in a nightmare, but that didn’t make it less real. “I won’t give up on him either, Liv,” she whispered. I won’t. Olivia led her back to the seat they’d been sitting in before, and despite the adrenaline and the fear, the anxiety and the numbness of the unknown, Claire felt her eyes slip closed as sleep dropped a heavy curtain around her.

_ _ _ _

Another two hours passed in silence and Olivia nearly slipped into sleep herself until a buzz caught her ear. She looked down at the phone as it buzzed yet again, vibrating against the wooden veneer of the waiting room table. She glanced over at Claire, still asleep, and then back down at Claire’s phone. 27 missed calls and at least that many unanswered text messages, all from the same person, the name on the contact simply reading “Dan”. Should I? she asked herself. Could be family… she realized that she knew nothing about Claire’s life and therefore had no way of knowing who this Dan was to her. The phone buzzed again. Should I wake her? She’s not really in the best shape to chat right now… Olivia bit her lip and decided to scroll through a few of the text messages to get a feel for who it might be. Make sure it’s not another Alex…

Claire- the news here…call me, okay?

Claire, I really need you to call me.

I’m scared now, Claire. Please, please call me.

Are you okay? Please be okay…

Sounds like a brother, or a friend. The display lit up as she held the phone and a call came through from Dan. Just do it, Liv, she told herself, and pressed the button to answer. She didn’t even have the chance to say “Hello,” before the frantic voice of a young man came through the speakers, strained and half crazed. “Claire?!”

“This is Claire’s phone, she…she can’t talk right now.”

“The fuck does that mean? Who are you? Where is she?!” the voice demanded.

“She’s right here, she’s…she’s with me. My name is Olivia Nevrakis. I’m a Duchess here in Cordonia. You can look me up, I’m not lying.” She kept her voice as calm as she could.

“Why can’t she come to the phone? What’s going on over there? I saw…Christ, I saw on the news there was an attack and…”

Olivia cut him off, needing some answers of her own before she started spilling Claire’s story. “Who are you to her? How do I know you’re not one of them? How do I know you’re not working with-“

“With Alex?” Dan cut her off. “Because I beat the shit out of that sick fuck last time he hurt her. And I’ll get on a plane to do it again if you don’t tell me what the fuck is going on and where Claire is. She is my best friend in this world, she’s like family to me she…I’m all the family she’s got…” Olivia sensed desperation in his voice, genuine care and a real need to know that his friend was okay.

“She’s safe. There was an attack, but I got her out. She’s fine but…her…I assume you know about-“

“About Drake? Yeah, I do…” there was a pause. “Is he…”

“He was shot, protecting her. We’re at the hospital now, she has a few minor injuries but she’s physically alright. She’s…she’s not handling it well though, Drake I mean.” Olivia flicked her eyes over to where Claire was still asleep. “She loves him though…how could she take it any other way than…” She felt her heart break for Claire then, and an uncharacteristic want to learn more about the woman she thought she had pegged. Everyone thought they had her pegged but there’s more to her, isn’t there?

“Olivia?” Dan’s voice was quiet this time. “Can…can you please have her call me as soon as she can? As soon as she…look I know she won’t call me before she knows what’s going on with Drake…she loves him, and she loves hard.” Yes she does. “So I get it…I just…”

“You just need to hear her voice. I understand, Dan.” He was loyal and protective, she could tell, and she respected that.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “Thank you for being there for her…”

Olivia swallowed down her emotion. “Of course,” she answered. “And…and thank you, too, for being there for her…she…she’s a good person and she doesn’t deserve this shit. Neither of them do…” she wiped at a stray tear that she didn’t feel forming. The door opened and the doctor that had come to give them the update on Liam was back. “Dan, I have to go, the doctor is here…” She ended the call with Dan saying that he hoped the news was good, and asked her to please call him back if Claire couldn’t.

Olivia set the phone down and stood. Dr. Morgan began addressing her, but she held up a finger. “Hold on please,” she took a step over to where Claire was curled in the chair and put her hand gently on her shoulder. “Claire,” she said her name softly but Claire jumped as though she had screamed it. She blinked her eyes open and sat up. When she saw the doctor her eyes came back to Olivia’s and she nodded, standing. Olivia slipped her arm around her, just in case, and then turned to the doctor. “Okay,” she told the woman.

Dr. Morgan cleared her throat. “Mr. Walker is out of surgery now,” she said, and Claire felt a rush of relief rumble through her with the force of a waterfall as a strangled sound came from her mouth. “He will likely need another procedure to repair the structural damage done to the shoulder joint and to the bone and muscle, but for now he’s stable and in recovery.”

For now. Another procedure. Oh, Drake…

“Can she see him?” Olivia’s voice cut through Claire’s thoughts, her arm still around her shoulders.

The doctor eyed Claire, seemingly trying to decide if she was going to hit her again, before answering. “Yes, but know that he won’t be awake for a few more hours.”

Claire felt tears stream down her face and felt her knees buckle just a bit from the relief of knowing he was alive, and right now that was all that mattered. “Bastien,” she looked up at Olivia questioningly and Olivia nodded, asking the doctor to make Bastien aware of the update. She promised that she would and then told Claire that she could follow her if she was ready. Claire put her arms around Olivia and squeezed with as much strength as she could which wasn’t much, but Olivia could feel it. “Thank you, Liv. Thank you for everything.”

She wiped at Claire’s eyes. “Don’t mention it, Claire…thank you…for loving Drake the way he deserves to be loved.” She but back tears of her own. “Now go, go see him.”

Claire nodded tearfully and followed the doctor. They stopped outside of a private patient room and the doctor knocked before entering to collect Bastien. Claire looked inside and caught a brief glimpse of Liam but couldn’t tell if he was awake or not. Bastien and the doctor appeared a second later and she locked eyes with the man as he nodded. The doctor lead them two doors down to another private room and stopped. “Again, I do need to remind you that he won’t be awake, and that you’ll need to be delicate.”

“We understand,” Bastien assured her, and she opened the door and Claire felt Bastien’s hands support her as they walked in together.

Drake was lying in bed surrounded by monitors and I.V.s, an oxygen tube situated under his nose, his chest and shoulder heavily bandaged. His color was pale and his eyes were closed, but Claire was staring at the slow but steady pattern of the green line that depicted his heartbeat; at the subtle way his chest rose and fell with his breathing. He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive. Her own heart beat those words over and over as she slowly stepped towards him, deep sobs of relief wracking her chest. Bastien moved one of two chairs next to the bedside and then his hands her on her arms again. He carefully set her down in the chair. She looked up at him and he leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I’ll be right here,” he said quietly, motioning to the second chair, still against the wall a few feet away. He walked over and took a seat, watching her close her fingers around his, watching as she brought her trembling lips to his hand and laid dozens of delicate kisses there. “I love you,” she whispered, the words barely audible. “I love you, I love you” over and over again, making up for not saying it before she left him in the ballroom. “I love you, Drake Walker.” Her tears fell onto the sheets, onto the blankets, onto Drake’s skin; her lips never leaving his hand.

_ _ _ _

Bastien checked his watch. Just after 5:30am. The sun was starting to rise as evidenced by the sliver of pinkish light that was visible around the edges of the drawn blinds. He looked across the room and sighed to himself at the sight of Claire leaning over Drake’s hospital bed, fear and concern still etched into her face, but he could tell that just seeing Drake, just knowing that he was still here, still breathing, still hers, made all the difference in the world. He knew that even though Drake wasn’t awake, that his heart could hear hers calling to it, and he knew that meant that he wasn’t going anywhere. He knew that King Liam was stable and would make a full recovery. He knew that there was a long road ahead for all of them in cleaning this all up, in repairing all the broken pieces. But for today he’d done all that he could. He quietly unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves, fingers deftly working at the task he’d done every night for nearly 30 years. Sleeves up, guard down. Deep breath. Tomorrow is another day, and tonight we’ve made it through.

_ _ _ _

tagging: @ooo-barff-ooo @sleepwalkingelite @zaffrenotes @brightpinkpeppercorn @jovialyouthmusic @mind-reader1 @endlessly-searching-for-you @endlesstaylormckenzie @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @drakewalkerrosenberg @akrenich @nekkidmolerat @indiacater @thequeenofcronuts @the-everlasting-dream @the-whiskeywife @roonarific @stopforamoment @mkatschoicesblog @mfackenthal @drakewalkerisreal

#ltla #learning to love again #drake x mc #drake walker #claire berkley #drake x claire #trr au #the royal romance #seven devils #choices fanfiction #olivia nevrakis #king liam #liam rhys #dan is the sweetest angel in the world change my mind #you cannot #sorry to rain on your fluffy friday

53 notes · View notes

drandnurseturner · 3 years

Text

Family

Takes place after Patrick snaps at Sister Julienne at The Surgery.

Shelagh's reaction and how it’s handled.

Note to reader: I haven’t seen any of the new eps. I have seen some clips which inspired this fic. Enjoy!

They had been Sisters and friends for years. Always there for each other. They had their ups and downs, but at the end of the day their love and support for one another was the basis of their friendship.

When Shelagh had left the order, Sister Julienne struggled greatly. Luckily, she had God and her Sisters to lean on. She didn’t express her exact feelings on the matter since Sister Evangelina and Sister Monica Joan had both voiced them. They all felt the same, but there had been a deeper sadness in Sister Julienne.

It had been hard enough when they discovered she was ill. She knew should could pray and pray, but missing her Sister, her dear friend was almost too much to bare. Little did she know when she would become well all that would transpire. She was in shock when she left The Order, but thought they would see each other.

They would all constantly ask Dr. Turner how she was. She would ask him to send their love. Over the years, she had built a good relationship with Dr. Turner. Never had she thought ill of his intentions. If this was the life God had planned for them, then she would be glad. It would be hard, but she would be glad.

Shelagh broke when Timothy became ill. She had been filled with so much joy, but she found comfort in Sister Julienne’s arms when she felt she had no where to turn. The reassurance that Sister Julienne gave her changed their relationship. It was new. A Sister and a friend.

They could and would still reflect on the times they had together in the past. There would be no other person who could understand the religious life like Shelagh even though she was no longer a Sister. Sister Julienne knew Shelagh was the same person. Dedicated, smart, efficient and compassionate.

As the years passed, The Turner family kept growing. Each bump in the road, each celebration, Sister Julienne was there. She had only shared with Shelagh her true excitement for baby Teddy after her was born. She was there through her struggles during her pregnancy. The one thing she did know was how important this child was to her. He was to all of them. Yes, The Turner’s loved Angelia and Timothy, but the miracle that was Teddy was different. As most pregnancies and births do, they help a relationship grow. Sister Julienne saw that with Shelagh and Dr. Turner.

Today was a very different day. Sister Julienne had disagreed with Dr. Turner on many things and they had always been respectful. They had always made it to the other side of their disagreements. They would still support each other daily, love each other unconditionally and be a family.

Dr. Turner’s words had stung her this time. She was doing all she could to keep Nonnatus afloat. Earlier that day their relationship had taken a turn. It hurt her in a way she had never been hurt before.

Knock Knock

“Come in.” Sister Julienne said looking up from her desk.

“Hello Sister.” Shelagh said as she walked in.

Sister Julienne could tell she was hesitant.

“Please my dear Shelagh, come sit down.” She said gesturing to the chair in front of her desk.

Shelagh slowly approached and sat down. This was damage control in a way. She had never felt more disappointed by the way Patrick had spoken to anyone let alone Sister Julienne.

“Sister.”

“Shelagh.” Sister Julienne interrupted. “I know why you are here and it is not necessary.”

“I’m sorry Sister, but yes it is completely necessary. Patrick was completely out of line.”

Sister Julienne could see how upset Shelagh was on her behalf. She rarely called Dr. Turner Patrick in front of her. Only during those personal moments.

“Shelagh, do not worry yourself. You have enough on your plate each day. We know that Dr. Turner and I have our disagreements.”

“This was not a disagreement Sister. I do not condone such disrespect, especially towards you.”

Shelagh was red and angry. Sister Julienne reached across her desk for Shelagh’s hands and she held them.

“You are very special to me Shelagh. Your friendship, your family, your work. We have been through a lot together and I hope we continue to work side by side for many years to come. Your husband was angry. I understand his anger and frustration. I will not lie to you, it hurt me. People have a tenancy to hurt others when they are hurting. You know this.”

Shelagh looked down as tears formed in her eyes. “Yes Sister. I suppose you are right. I am just so terribly sorry for the way he spoke to you.”

“And I still love you and Dr. Turner just the same. You two have not only been a large part of Nonnatus for many many years, but a large part of our family. We are a family Shelagh and families continue to love, even through the hard times.”

“Thank you Sister. Thank you for always being so understanding.”

Sister Julienne rose out of her chair and walked around to Shelagh. When Shelagh stood, Sister Julienne hugged her tight.

“We have lost so much Shelagh. We know we will lose more soon. I will not lose you and your family too.”

“No. No you won’t.“

Sister Julienne pulled back and held Shelagh’s shoulders. “Go home. Speak to your husband. You mustn’t let this come between you. You are a strong force together.”

Shelagh arrived home feeling better about where she stood with Sister Julienne, but now she needed to talk to Patrick. She was never nervous about speaking with him, even about tough issues, but for some reason this time she was slightly nervous.

It was late seeing that she had gone to see Sister Julienne after dinner. Patrick was where she would usually find him. At the dinner table which was covered in paperwork.

He turned when he heard the door close. “Hello.” He noticed the sad look on her face and stood up, walking towards her.

She just stood there.

“What is the matter?” He said cupping her face in his hands.

“We are so blessed Patrick.” And then she started to cry.

He held her. “Yes dear. Yes we are, but what is this about?”

“I spoke to Sister Julienne.”

“Is everyone alright?” He pulled back to look at her face.

She slowly put down her purse at the kitchen table and then took off her coat. She then slowly made her way to the couch. Patrick followed her and they sat.

“I went to her to apologize for how you spoke to her today.”

“Oh Shelagh! There was no need...”

She cut him off quick. “Yes Patrick. Yes there was a need. You know how much she means to me. You know how much she has been there for us. She’s family Patrick. You have never spoken so ill to her in all the years you have known her. I couldn’t let that go.”

“I’m sorry. I am so sorry Shelagh. I did not mean to put you in the middle of this.”

“But I am in the middle Patrick. I am always and will always be in the middle. I love you and stand by you, but not when you let your anger get the best of you. I can stand by you even when we may not agree as long as you do it with respect. This by far has been the most troubling time for all of us. Not just you. Not just Nonnatus.”

Patrick looked down realizing his outburst may have been more selfish than he had originally thought. “Leave this with me dear.”

Shelagh laid her head on his chest. “She is so understanding Patrick and I never want to take advantage of that.”

“Neither do I.”

The next day was busy. Dr. Turner had every intention of making it to see Sister Julienne and setting things to rights. It was one patient, one call after another.

Patrick walked in the door of their home looking defeated. Another very very busy day was finally over. All he wanted was a warm shower, warm meal and to lay with his wife and fall asleep.

He had paid no mind to anyone or anything when he entered the house. He took off his hat, coat and medical bag placing them at the table before looking for where his wife may have left a covered plate of dinner for him. Then he noticed something out of the corner of his eye.

Shelagh and Sister Julienne were both watching him from the sitting room with the cups in tea in hand.

“Hello dear.” Shelagh said. “There’s a plate in the oven for you.”

Instead of looking for the plate he walked towards them. “Sister Julienne?”

“Good evening Dr. Turner.” Sister Julienne smiled.

Patrick walked to her and sat on the coffee table across from her. She looked puzzled. He made eye contact with her.

“Sister. I am so very sorry for my ill words and disrespect the other day. Please, will you ever forgive me?”

Sister Julienne and Shelagh were both shocked. Neither of them could remember a time when Patrick was in that type of state.

“Your wife, has apologized on your behalf Dr. Turner. And there would never be an occasion where I could not forgive you. You mean the world to us all. I understand your fears and frustrations more than you may realize.”

“We are fighting for the same thing Sister and although we may not agree on it all, I will never let my anger get the best of me like that again.”

Sister Julienne laughed. “Although I hope that to be true, I will always forgive you even if it happens again. As I told Shelagh, you are family. Family loves unconditionally. The joy you have brought to us at Nonnatus House...your children, sharing your lives with us. That’s family and a true blessing from God.”

“Thank you Sister.” Patrick hugged her which somewhat startled her and then she smiled.

“Patrick!!” Shelagh almost shouted.

Patrick backed away. “I’m sorry Sister.”

“That’s enough apologies for a while I should think.”

“Quite right.” Shelagh said. “Now dear, why don’t you go eat your supper before it gets much later.”

Patrick stood up and kissed his wife on the head. “Thank you dear.”

They watched as he made his way to the kitchen.

“Shelagh, may I tell you something?”

“Of course Sister.”

“I know I chose the religious life and I am happy with that choice each and every day. I know God had another plan for you and I thank him each day for allowing me to still be a part of it. To be your family.”

“Me too.”

#CTM #Call The Midwife #Shelagh Turner #Patrick Turner #Sister Julienne #CTM Fanfic #Call The Midwife Fanfic #The Turners #Dr Turner #Nurse Turner #Mrs Turner #Turnadette

29 notes · View notes

tiny-maus-boots · 6 years

Text

Soulmates AU pt 2

Summary: Inspired by Soulmates au and soulmates au pt 2 hc by @fandom-heaux . An AU in which everyone is born with a smudged birthmark. As you find your mate in life the smudge forms their name when you’ve made an impression on them. In this world Beca doesn’t realize she has any, let alone three.

Author’s Note: I’m gonna try this thing where I post once a week. I say try because…well. Tis I. Queen of zero follow through. I blame @chloes-yellow-cup for dragging me into this fandom and then making fics that have ruined me. RUINED ME. Let me clarify. RUINED ME.

Author’s Note 2: and then I posted way early. Click here for Part 1

Chloe

It was late and she was tired and sweaty and itchy and she just wanted a hot shower and a cuddle with Aubrey. Chloe turned the key in the lock of her front door and pushed. It didn’t open right away and she groaned. Damnit. It was stuck again. She and Aubrey kept meaning to get someone out to fix it. A handyman or whatever, but Aubrey had been so busy lately at the firm. She was running herself ragged getting ready for a trial. Aubrey was the hardest working junior associate at Hale, Harris and Hoke and it was giving her the edge she needed against the other junior associates. But it was hard. They hardly saw each other these days. Chloe herself was spending most of her days picking up UberEats orders after her shifts at the clinic. Most days, like today, she smelled like a combination of wet dog fur and greasy fast food. Chloe rested her head against the door and sighed. Her hand came up to scratch lightly at her chest with a deep sigh.

She was only doing this side gig because she wanted to take Aubrey on a long weekend away. Just the two of them, so they could reconnect and relax. Chloe jiggled the key in the lock until she heard the scraping as the protesting tumblers fell into place. Thank God. The redhead pushed the door in and stepped into their darkened home. A sigh escaped her and she frowned when she realized that Aubrey wasn’t even home yet. Chloe closed the door behind her, digging her phone out of her jacket pocket as she did. The door bounced open and she jumped, dropping her bags and whirling to see who or what was behind her.

“Bree? Oh my God!”

“Ow! Chloe…are you okay?”

Chloe quickly pulled her soulmate into their tiny condo and shut the door. “Me?? I’m not the one that got a door to the face. Are you okay? I’m so sorry Bree. I didn’t realize you were right behind me.”

Aubrey gave her a tired smile and rubbed her nose lightly. “I’m fine Chlo. I should have said something, I was just in my head. It’s been a long day.” Chloe nodded at that and let her hands slide down Aubrey’s arms to her wrists. She laced their fingers and squeezed. Aubrey’s pale green eyes brightened and she tugged Chloe closer for a kiss. It was sweet and loving and far too short for Chloe’s tastes. “Why do you smell like Chinese food?”

Chloe giggled and scratched her chest idly again as she pulled Aubrey further into the house. She picked up the dropped bag of containers, grateful it all seemed mostly intact. “I picked up something on the way home. I even brought you some cream cheese rangoons.” It wasn’t a lie. After her last pick up came through for Flaming Dragon she decided it would be perfect for dinner. Aubrey took her at face value and nodded with a weary smile. Chloe knew she appreciated the treat even if she was too tired to be excited about it. “C’mon you look beat. Let’s take a shower before we eat and crawl into bed.” She dropped the bags on the counter careful to make sure the contents were okay.

The groan of agreement that Aubrey gave made Chloe tug the blonde toward the master bedroom. “That sounds heavenly. How was work?” It meant something to Chloe that no matter how long or tough her schedule had been the first thing Aubrey always asked her was how her day had gone. Chloe dropped her keys on the dresser, kicked off her shoes and reached out to pull the still pristinely pressed shirt out of Aubrey’s skirt.

“Work was work.” She smiled at her mate as she undid the buttons of her shirt and slid it over her shoulders. It dropped to the floor and she leaned forward to kiss along the taller woman’s collarbone. “We finally got all of Molly’s puppies fostered until adoption.” Her hands trailed over Aubrey’s chest and down her belly loving the soft skin under her fingers. Chloe worked the zipper down the hip of Bree’s skirt and slid it off to land with the discarded shirt. “Someone brought in a fox kit. Looks like she got hit by a car. Dr. Coyle doesn’t think she’ll make it and she’s not socializing well with the dogs. Poor thing has to be isolated or they’ll pick on her.”

The hurt in Chloe’s voice made Aubrey focus past the feel of warm hands on her body. She gave an understanding frown and pulled Chloe in close for long hug. Those types of cases were the hardest for the redhead and she appreciated Aubrey’s support. “I’m sorry Chlo. That sounds horrible. Is there anything you guys can do?”

Chloe tipped her head in thought as Aubrey moved to pull her scrub top up and off. The action made her smile and she wiggled out of her pants. They took care of each other and it was the thing she loved most about them. “She needed surgical repair for her back leg. I think she’ll make it but without a family or any bonds she’s just going to wither through her recovery. Pretty sure she was bred for domestication. She has no social skills whatsoever and… ” It took Chloe a second to realize that Aubrey had stopped moving, had stopped speaking. Maybe even breathing. “Bree?” Nothing. No response. Chloe felt her heart racing and she reached out to her mate. “Wha…”

“Who is Beca?”

Beca? Chloe blinked in confusion then looked to where Aubrey’s gaze seemed frozen. The marks over her heart seemed so foreign now. Before it was just one name and two smudges but now…Chloe swallowed as she traced the second name. Her stunned eyes raised to her mate just in time to see a flicker in their jade depths. A flicker that was quickly hidden but Chloe had seen it. And she knew. She knew what Aubrey was doing. “I honestly don’t know Aubrey. I swear.”

There was silence then Aubrey pulled Chloe against her body for a long lingering kiss. It was soft and meant to be reassuring but Chloe could feel something deeper in it. “Well, you definitely left an impression on her.” It wasn’t cold or mean but it was weighted. Careful. “Let’s just shower and we can try and figure out how to track her down over dinner.”

Chloe didn’t argue it as they stripped out of the rest of their clothes and padded to the shower. She wanted to find her second mate. And her third. She wanted them to know Aubrey because she had a sneaking suspicion they would all be fast friends. But Aubrey thought that having more than one mark meant having to lose your mate before you got another. Chloe didn’t even know how to argue that with her. It wasn’t as if they knew anyone else besides each other with more than one mark. Really they had no reference for what would happen in this situation, and while they had talked about the what ifs of another mark becoming clearer they maybe hadn’t talked about it enough. The warm spray of the water was amazing. It soothed the already tense muscles of her shoulders and back. Chlo pulled her mate closer under the water and nosed her way to the crook of Aubrey’s neck. “I’m not giving you up Aubrey. I’m never going to give you up. You know that right?”

There was a quiet sound above her that she couldn’t decipher. It could have been an agreement or just a sound to placate her in the moment. Chloe wasn’t sure but she didn’t know how else to reassure Aubrey that she wasn’t going anywhere. Bree’s arms were warm around her as they held each other, both unsure what to say just then. She sighed softly and picked up the loofah sponge realizing that words were failing her and she needed Aubrey to know so much more than she could even explain. She needed her mate to know she loved her endlessly, that they were a team, that they would always be team Chaubrey. Chloe added the soap and started slowly washing the strains of Aubrey’s day away.

Aubrey’s body relaxed a little more with every touch, turning to let Chloe work the loofah over her shoulders and down her back. When Chloe had gotten Aubrey’s back lathered she leaned into it, choosing to bring the loofah around to Bree’s belly and up over her breasts. Her hands lingered there, fingertips brushing lightly over nipples gone hard from her gentle touches. Chloe smiled against the skin of Aubrey’s neck and pulled back reluctantly. Aubrey turned to rinse and Chloe brought the loofah down to her mate’s wrist to wash the make-up off it. As usual, Aubrey didn’t look. She never looked whenever her marks were revealed. Just under Chloe’s name two other smudges stood out darkly. She knew Aubrey had tried to rid herself of the other two. Laser surgery, derm-abrasion, plastic surgery…everything. She wished Aubrey wouldn’t be so ashamed of them but her mate didn’t take comfort in the marks the same way that she did. For Aubrey, Chloe was all that was necessary in her heart. Chloe understood why, they’d been together forever and if she didn’t have her other marks she probably wouldn’t even know something was missing in her life.

It had all seemed so distant and far away, the thought of having another person to fill her heart seemed like so much fairytale. But now it was suddenly too real and too close. Chloe realized they hadn’t been prepared for this. Not really.

“Au…”

“Chlo…” Aubrey smiled at her and she gave a slight nod to let her mate start. “Chloe…I love you. I know you love me too. That’s not even a question.” There was that flicker of something again in Aubrey’s eyes that broke Chloe’s heart and made her press in closer against Bree’s body as if that would chase away the shadow over them. “I just want you to know that whatever happens next we’ll work through it. However we have to. I…”

Aubrey’s words trailed off unspoken as Chloe kissed her with all the love that filled her heart. Bree responded with hesitation and Chloe hated it. She pulled Aubrey closer, lips and teeth nibbling hungrily and she didn’t stop until Aubrey really kissed her back. Chloe pulled back and rested their foreheads together. “Aubrey I have loved you since the second grade when you punched Bumper Allen for throwing a rock at me and calling me ginger devil’s spawn. And I’m gonna love you until my last breath. You’re mine and I’m yours.” Regardless of anyone else they were destined to love. Chloe’s fingers stroked over the mark on Aubrey’s wrist. “I was here first.” Her smile softened and she raised Aubrey’s hand to the marks on her own chest. “You were here first, Bree.”

Aubrey’s lip curled a little at the memory and she leaned in and brushed soft lips over the scar on Chloe’s forehead. “That little dick lick deserved it.” Chloe’s name had been etched on her wrist since they were eight. They were supposed to be together no matter what. It wasn’t totally fine, Chloe could see that, but it was better. Aubrey let her body melt into her mate’s, some of the worry and tension in her muscles melting away. “Are you sure you want to be a vet? You’re a natural debater. You could be an amazing lawyer.”

“Nah, my job is way more fun. I get to pet soft kitties all day. Wait. No. That seems…You know what I mean!” Aubrey’s laugh was music to her ears. Chloe’s smile widened at the tiny snort that escaped in the middle of Bree’s giggle fit. They were going to be okay. She knew it, she just had to convince Aubrey of it too. “I love you Bree.”

Aubrey let her laughter die down but her smile didn’t fade. She had Chloe and Chloe had her. They would manage this the way they did everything else. Together. “I love you too Chloe. More than I even know how to say.”

“Oh. Well if you don’t have the words maybe….you could show me?” Chloe’s laugh bounced off the tile walls as Aubrey rushed her, pressing them against the cool wall. The Universe or whatever omnipotent being was out there didn’t make mistakes, she was sure of it. Just like she was sure everything would work out just the way it was supposed to. She just had to figure out who the heck Beca was. Tomorrow it would drive her nuts, not knowing where she had run into her mystery mate but tonight, with Aubrey’s warm hand between her legs she just couldn’t bring herself to worry about it. Tonight they had each other and that was all Chloe needed to be happy.

#soulmates au #stechlobree #bechloe #chaubrey #steca #staubrey #mitchsen #chacie #bellasquared #polyshipping #wlw

69 notes · View notes

ifridiot · 5 years

Text

Punchable

Naia gets some help from Cable. Takes place about six months or so before the last fic I posted, History. Plot suggested by @byfe

Naia knew who Cable was, had seen him in the news, heard Wade talk about him way more than they honestly ever wanted to, but he was one of those sort of… distant people, like a celebrity or a politician. He was a step above a myth, confirmed real but certainly not someone Naia ever expected to meet.

Or, as the case may be, almost punch in the face.

One minute, Naia’s alone on a dark rooftop, watching a small caravan of cars pull up to the warehouse where the Giuliani family was set to have some kind of meetup to discuss a weapon they’d acquired. Naia needed to figure out what the weapon actually was, and why Vincenzo, who previously had stuck to the drug trade with a healthy side of racketeering, had decided his family should dip into the weapons trade at all. If it came to it, they were prepared to kill a few mafiosos, but at a small sit down like this, they hoped to be able to keep casualties to a minimum.

They’re alone, mentally running through the blueprints they’d memorized of the warehouse interior, deciding the best way to sneak in without being noticed -- recon was the most important part of the night -- and then their danger-sense was going haywire.

Nothing sounds wrong, at first, but thirteen years have taught them to trust that when the danger-sense said ‘something dangerous is behind you’, something dangerous was probably behind them.

And so, before they’ve even gotten a chance to see the man up close, they spun and tried to punch him in the face.

The blow, aimed for someone closer to their height, should have hit the man in the neck, too low for a clean strike to the mouth, but still devastating. Naia could lift railcars; a punch provoked by fear was bound to be devastating.

Except, they manage to get through the spin, leaning into the punch, but then they seem to freeze, their whole body seized by some kind of paralysis.

Gives them plenty of time to recognize the dour face of the time travelling mutant soldier. His head tilts just slightly to the side, as if, when they’d turned, he’d started to sway out of the line of fire before remembering he could do this telekinetic freeze bullshit.

Let me go, fuckhead, they badly want to shout, but Spider-man is generally less ragey than Naia, and would give a guy with a reputation like Cable at least a little respect. So they just think it, loudly, before remembering that the asshole can read minds, too.

All four arms are starting to feel stiff and sore -- honestly, this is worse than trying to hide their secondary arms -- and they register that even if they could figure out something appropriate to say, they can’t move their jaw to speak.

Okay, that’s a little scary.

“Spider-man,” Cable says, measured, calm. Like he’s trying to be soothing, but is also impatient. “I need you to come with me.”

Just like that, the force holding them drops, and they stumble, catching themselves and glaring at Cable. The mask won’t translate the look, but they indulge in it anyway. Judging by the way his lips press thin together, he’s picking the sentiment up just fine.

“You realize I’m at work, right,” they hiss, two hands gesturing toward the warehouse, outside of which men are drifting, casing the area, creating their security net. It was still a few hours before Vincenzo and his guests were scheduled to show up, time Naia needed to see how the goons were going to arrange themselves so they could figure out the attack plan. “Would you show up at like, the hospital while a surgeon is scrubbing up before surgery to demand help?”

“If it were necessary. If the future depended on it,” Cable says, all cool and collected like he’s making an effort to be patient. Naia groans, sagging backwards with their face angled at the overcast sky. It’s July, and the weather seems dead set on raining. So much the better for stealth; the sound of the rain would mask any noise they might make sneaking around.

Now Naia was wasting time talking to this busybody asshole with his distracting metal arm and vaguely disapproving frown. Okay, yeah, they could maybe see where Wade was coming from, maybe, but he was still an busybody asshole.

When he smiles, the expression mostly just a deepening of the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, barely a quirk of the lips, Naia scowls. He even makes smug look good, wearing self-satisfaction with the ease of one who fully knew that he’d earned the right to feel it. Absolutely obnoxious, ugh.

“Look,” Naia says evenly, the voice modulator evening out the little bit of anxiety that would otherwise have managed to leak into their tone, “this is a one-night-only high stakes event. Whatever you want, I’ll help you tomorrow. Or next week. Or whenever you need, just not tonight, thank you for the offer, goodbye.”

Cable sighs, the resignation in his posture enough to communicate that he’d expected this to be difficult but had hoped it wouldn’t be and now he was disappointed. “Wade was right. He told me you were funny. And stubborn.”

“Yeah well, fair’s fair, Wade was absolutely wrong, ‘cause he told me I’d think you were cool and you’re actually just a bit of a prick,” Naia throws back, turning to gesture sharply, all four arms rigidly extended toward the warehouse. “I have a job to do. Stop giving me the guilt-trip Dad-Eyes and go save the future somewhere else.”

Silver eye brows hitch pretty high for a moment, lips pressing thin again. “Saving the future involves you leaving with me. Now.”

Naia turns toward him again, arms dropping. “If I don’t figure out what the fuck those men have and what they’re planning to do with it, they’re going to start killing people. People will die. I know you’re all about the ‘big picture’ and a couple dead mobsters here, a dozen dead civvies there, they ain’t nothin’ to you, but see, they are a big deal to me.”

“If you go in there tonight, you will die. I can’t let that happen.”

A beat of silence before Naia groans, turning away and staking toward the edge of the rooftop where they’d set up their little stake-out nest. “If you expect me to believe that I’m somehow important enough that the time and place of my death affects anything in the grand scheme of things, you’re way, way dumber than Wade’s led me to believe.”

“You need to know what they’ve got? They’ve got two things, Spider-man. A very powerful telepath and a lot of guns. You’ve been fed information to lead you here tonight, and they’ve done a good job, because you absolutely believe you can sneak in there and listen in on a meeting that’s not even going to happen.”

Cable talks like Naia is being obtuse, and frankly, the tone is kind of ticking them off. They get the distinct impression that he’s trying to pull strings here, and they don’t like being led. “Vincenzo Giuliani is a small time crook, he’s got no scores to settle with me outside whatever grander bullshit the Italians might be thinking. There’s been no word of a raise in the reward for my death, no incentive for him to suddenly set up some elaborate trap to reel me in.”

“The Italians have all kinds of reasons to want you in the ground. In fact, most of the criminals in New York would like to see Spider-man dead. You’re walking into a trap that was specifically designed for you, and I’m trying to help you.”

And the worst of it is, guided down that path of logic, Naia can kind of see what he means. Naia would never have gotten wrapped up in this if it was one of the bigger families, the ones with more consistent megalomaniacal bends; they would have tipped off one of the big guys, because they were great at handling small time stuff, okay with a few supervillains now and again, but they really didn’t do the flashy stuff.

Friendly neighbourhood Spider-man. A small mob family looking to dip their fingers into the weapons trade? Just their speed, something that could become a big problem but that could be taken care of before it became too much of one.

It really was sort of a tailor-made situation for them to have spent time on (and oh god, what kind of shit might have been going on while they were putting this case together) and put their focus on, and it would be, in an enclosed warehouse in an industrial park with no witnesses around, exactly the right environment for them to be outnumbered and overwhelmed. Pulled off right, it was the perfect setup to catch them, because the danger wouldn’t be direct enough for the danger-sense to warn them until it was too late. Telepaths were never fooled by their cloaking ability, and they might have a thicker skin than most, but they were definitely not bulletproof.

They couldn’t think of a reason why Cable would lie about this, but it was also… troubling… to try and figure out why it would matter enough for him to intervene. People died all day every day. Someone was probably being murdered right now, someone who could have changed the world somehow but never got their chance. What in the hell could be so important that Time Cop Jesus would decide to step in?

“Things are going to get very dark in the next few months,” Cable says, gravely, like that clarifies anything. “People will need you, your strength, your kindness. Not just the memories.”

“If this is all some kind of plot, aren’t they just going to double down on getting me dead?”

Broad shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. “You know there’s a plot now. I imagine you’ll figure out how to deal with the Italians without getting killed.”

Naia squints at Cable, head tilting to one side, assessing him. “You got a real big gun there. And I’d guess you’re better at telepathic shielding than me with your, y’know,” they wiggle the fingers of one hand by their temple. “Bet together we could really fuck Giuliani’s shit up.”

This time the smile is a little more present, crooked like he’s trying to keep a straight face. “I’m not going to do that.”

“Okay, fuck, so you’re Tuxedo Mask, show up, flip your cape, you’re done here.” Naia scoffs, throwing all four hands up. “What good are you?”

“I just saved your life.”

“Yeah? You want praise and accolades? Christ.”

They can feel him staring at them as they gather up their equipment. “Wade told me you had an… interesting sense of humor.”

“Wade tell you I don’t like nights off? Fuck, I wasted so much time on this shit and I can’t even punch anyone over it.”

Cable is smiling openly when they look at him again. It’s still a rather subtle expression, a curl of his lip, the deepening of the wrinkles around his eyes. No business making smug look hot, but there he stands, the absolute bastard.

“Well,” he says, “I could use a hand with something.”

They perk up a little. “Would I be allowed to punch people?”

“It was implied, yes.”

Thunder rumbles, and the first few drops of rain splatter against the mask as they drag their jacket back on and move toward Cable. Down below, Naia can hear Giuliani’s men shouting orders at one another, still setting up security. Part of them quite badly wants to go down there and hurt some people, and they’re willing to bet that, whatever Cable said about them being important in the near future, he’d let them go if they went, even if it got them killed. He’s got that powerful Good Guy energy, the kind that says he can’t fault free will.

But why die when you can live to kill the assholes another day, when they’re not expecting it?

“Alright. Let’s go punch some assholes.”

#naia leadley #spidersona #into the spider verse #nathan summers #cable #neoma writes

9 notes · View notes

sagiow · 5 years

Text

Beyond the strife of fleets heroic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17413445

« Doctor Foster? A word, if I may? »

Jedidiah Foster looked up from his desk: he had been writing for what felt like hours, pen nib scratching steadily as he filled reports and signed forms, eyes straining in the dimming sunlight of the late afternoon, his barely touched tea long grown cold, and so he gladly welcomed the intrusion.

“For you, my dear Peaseblossom, always, and especially when there is such wretched paperwork to attend. How may I be of assistance?”

By now, she had learned to gauge his mood by the nickname he chose to bestow upon her. “Peaseblossom” was for the good days, those where his eyes shone and he appeared younger than his years, most often from a surgery performed successfully with innovative methods, or from simply having drawn a smile from Mary Phinney. “Hoopskirt Assassin” was for days where the dreary work and constant clashes with Dr. Hale brought out the caustic side of his humor. “Miss Green” was for most days, and the dire circumstances they faced: patient needs were high, chloroform and other resources were low, and humor all but extinguished. “Young lady” was for the very worse, those days of losses that should have been prevented, of battles that never seemed to end - both at the front and in the hospital - that left him fidgety and weary, eager for an escape, and the words were typically barked in reproach for a minor fault that he would have shrugged off any other day.

So Peaseblossoms it was today, and that was encouraging.

She had hoped it might be so, from the lively conversation of the night before, the cozy evening spent with tea, cigar and pleasant company without a medical emergency or undesired intruder to disturb them, and was glad his good humor had not dissipated since.

Thus emboldened, she entered the room, closed the door and took the chair opposite him.

“Oh, a private entretien?” he asked, leaning forward eagerly over the desk. "Whom are we gossiping about?”

“No one,” she scoffed, then reconsidered. “Or rather, me.”

“Hmmmm… irregular, but intriguing. Go on.”

She took a moment to order her thoughts, wondering which best way to broach the delicate subject, and finding none. She settled instead for the familiar beats of polite conversation.

“Dr. Foster, you come from Maryland, don’t you?" she asked, her forced bright tone unconvincing to her ears. "From an old, slave-holding family?”

He frowned. “Yes, my family has owned Foster Plantation for four generations. And dozens of slaves along the years to work it. Not a particular proud point, as far as I’m concerned, but one rather necessary in our Southern ways.”

“Speaking of which,” she pursued, “why did you find yourself employed by the Union army? Why not be a surgeon with the Confederates, if that is where your family loyalties lie?”

The frown deepened. “My loyalties lie with my patients, be they from the Union or Confederacy. I only care of their welfare and relative comfort, which is not something that can be said for all doctors on staff here. I believe you know this quite well, and I fail to see how it pertains to yourself, Miss Green.”

At the increased crossness of his tone, Emma slumped somewhat in her seat, biting the inside of her cheek. Noticing her distress, he softened his approach. “Please, just speak plainly. If I can help, I will. What is troubling you?”

She raised her eyes to meet his, and could not find an ounce of judgement in them, only inquisitive kindness. She took a deep breath.

“Doctor,” she finally spoke slowly, almost wincing with every word. “What do you do, when everything you have always believed may not be true, nor even right?”

“Phew….” Jed exhaled, leaning back in his chair. “Quite the rhetorical topic, and I am but a simple man of science. Wouldn’t questions of morality better be addressed to, say… Chaplain Hopkins?”

“I do not want to ask him,” she muttered, remembering Henry’s fury at Tom’s death, his gentle touch at her father’s imprisonment, his so uncharacteristic demeanor the night before, in turns gallant, playful and self-dismissive, as he escorted her home, skipping across the flooded streets. Their joined hands, their final almost embrace, cut short by the rain. Her own almost admission, cut short by Belinda’s timely interruption. All conflicting situations, confusing feelings she did not wish to revisit right now.

Foster caught her embarrassment, and managed to keep his grin hidden. “No, I suppose you do not,” he agreed as seriously as he could, making an enthusiastic mental note of seeking out Mary Phinney as soon as the chance presented itself to share this new development. “Besides, what answer would a kindly Yankee preacher have that you haven’t already thought of yourself? Prayer? More prayer? Ha, great deal of good, that does. No, it is Judas’ opinion you seek. The other Southern traitor in your colorful entourage.”

“I’m no traitor!” she gasped. “I haven’t done anything to betray the Cause!”

“Maybe not yet, but to doubt is the very first step. No army wants its soldiers doubting the orders they are given. Anything short of blind obedience is mutiny. Outright rebellion.”

Her brow furrowed at this, the implications dawning on her bitterly. “What made you doubt, then?”

He shrugged. “I have always believed in the strength of the Union, of its greater possibility for progress and innovation. I’ve seen the formidable strides made forward in Europe with industrialization, modern medicine and improved hygiene. There is no such thing in the South. The Confederates would have slaves planting tobacco and cotton while they reaped the profits and lazily sipped on mint juleps until the end of days.”

“So your reasons are… purely economic?” she wondered.

“Economic, intellectual, political; humanist, even, in a way. One side fights to keep living in its past of privilege for a lucky few, and the other to ensure a brighter future for most through progress and prosperity. My choice was easy to make.”

“Even if it meant crossing your family?”

At this, Jed sighed, the memory of his last family reunion and the morphine-induced torture that followed it still cruelly felt. “Children rarely follow the course desired by their parents. You would not be the first, nor the last, pariah out of the South. It may prove quite difficult, as doing what is right typically is, but you may very well find yourself a new family along the way; one that will welcome you with all your rebellious ideas, and not despite them.”

To rebel against the Rebels. The irony of it was frightening, but perhaps not as much as it might have been a few months past. She thought of her parents, so steadfast in their desire to protect her innocence. Of her siblings, doing their best to support the Confederacy despite their limitations. Of Frank, of his alterego and undercover work, undertaking some secret mission right across the street from Mansion House. She thought of them, and could not face walking away from them, despite her growing doubts as to the righteousness of their Cause. “I have not reached that point yet.”

“Maybe not, but -and I’m sure I speak for many others here-, please know that my door will still be wide open if ever you do.”

There was no mischief in his voice then, only friendly concern. She did not know what to respond to such an unexpectedly sympathetic overture, and all she could muster were mumbled gratitudes.

“Do not make too much of it,” he dismissed it. “After all, it would be foolish of us to turn you away now that you’re finally becoming an adequate nurse. And you challenge Nurse Phinney to keep a fairer disposition towards all our patients, which is how I prefer our Head Nurse.”

I could think of a few other dispositions you’d prefer her in, Emma thought wryly, but held her tongue and only smiled instead. She stood and smoothed her skirts. “Thank you again for your time and counsel, Dr. Foster. You've given me much to think about. I shall let you get back to your work.”

He rolled his eyes dramatically at the pile of forms before him. “I’d much rather you didn’t, but the men need your entertaining conversation more than I do.”

“I’m sure Nurse Hastings will be by shortly with a long list of recriminations,” she quipped slyly.

He groaned at this. “Then do be sure to call for my most urgent, non-negotiable help within a minute of her entry. God, that woman can be worse than paperwork.”

Her smiled widened, and she nodded. “Of course, Doctor. Anything for my Southern brethren.”

#mercy street #mercy street pbs #ao3 #jed foster #Emma Green #fanfic

4 notes · View notes

letterfromtrenwith · 6 years

Text

Prescription Passion - Ch. 4

Carolight Hospital AU

Ch 4: Nobody has a good day, and Caroline hears some hospital gossip.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

There are a number of studies that have found that people living with a range of potentially visible skin conditions can experience social anxiety, usually accompanied by lowered quality of life as a consequence of avoidant coping.

Caroline sighed – she’d read that sentence four times now. She let the issue of the British Journal of Dermatology fall shut on her desk and put her head in her hands. Today had really drained her; she’d been up late with Uncle Ray after he’d suffered a hypoglycaemic episode, and had been reluctant to leave him this morning, although he’d insisted he was all right. He probably was – he usually kept his diabetes under very good control – but she couldn’t help worrying.

Even if Uncle Ray had wanted her to stay, she probably wouldn’t have been able to – her appointment schedule that morning had been absolutely jam-packed, with both private and NHS patients, and she’d barely had five minutes to herself. When she was supposed to be having lunch, she’d been called in alongside her boss, Dr Bodrugan, to see a woman who had suffered severe burns in a house fire. She’d been transferred from the Royal Cornwall to see Dr Bodrugan specifically, as he was an expert in treating such injuries. Those kinds of cases were always difficult – the patient would require numerous surgeries and months if not years of treatment.

On top of all that, while she’d been trying to catch up on her paperwork this afternoon she’d got a call from the oncology department asking her to pass on her files on a patient – his skin cancer had metastasised to his bones. He was only in his 20s and the type of cancer he had progressing in that way was extremely rare. That had thrown her completely off – she’d tried catching up on her reading as a bit of a distraction, but it was certainly no help, especially as that same issue contained an article on the treatment of melanoma.

No, this was no good; she needed a break. A trip down to the coffee shop for something creamy and fattening should do the trick; it was probably not the best idea to have a Starbucks in the lobby of a hospital, but Caroline was eternally grateful for it. As she waited at the end of the counter for her venti caramel macchiato she heard a familiar voice order a chai latte, and turned to see Dwight Enys standing at the till, arms folded, looking about as worn down as she felt. His hair was beginning to flop over his forehead in a really quite charming way. He wore his dark blue scrubs, and she might have admired how well the colour suited him if she hadn’t noticed the splatter of what looked like blood up the left sleeve. Caroline had done her time in A & E as a student and she didn’t envy those who had made it their specialty. The cases she’d dealt with today were nothing compared to what Dwight saw on a much more regular basis.

“Oh, hello.” Dwight spotted her as he headed down to wait, too. She hadn’t seen him for a few days, since they’d observed the OOKP together and had that funny little talk about Horace afterwards. Caroline had wondered what on Earth she’d been thinking, inviting him to come and watch an unusual eye surgery like it was a date or something. As fascinating as the procedure had been, she’d paid far too much attention to him sitting next to her, his knee touching hers, the warm, masculine scent of him.

“Hi. How are you?” She paused, glancing at the blood on his sleeve. “Or should I not ask?”

“What – Oh, God.” He rubbed ineffectually at the already dried stain. He lowered his voice. “Stabbing.”

“Jesus. How are they?” He shook his head, glancing down at the floor, and she fought the urge to put her hand on his arm – she didn’t know if he would appreciate it. “I’m sorry.”

“It happens.” He didn’t sound as casual as his words suggested. Most doctors developed a thick skin about death and suffering. It was necessary to keep from breaking down on a regular basis, but only the truly callous could remain completely unaffected.

“Do you – do you want to talk about it?” Their drinks had arrived, and Caroline inclined her head toward a table.

“No.” The abrupt refusal prickled at her, until Dwight shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t mean to sound rude – I’d just rather not talk about…that. Anything else, though.”

They sat at the table, gripping their cups. Neither seemed willing to speak at first, until they both tried to at the same time. They laughed, and this broke the tension.

“You first.” Caroline said, taking a sip of her drink. The sickly sweetness absolutely hit the spot.

“Bad day for you, too?”

“How can you tell?”

“Well, please don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t look like you drink those on a regular basis.” Caroline chuckled.

“Well diagnosed, Dr Enys.” Dwight smiled. Even still a little sad, he had a lovely smile. She told him about her cancer patient and her burns patient. He was an excellent listener, his face kind and sympathetic –she was sure he would be calming presence to patients in A & E, reassuring them at what was probably the most frightening time of their lives. When she’d finished, there was a short silence and she realised she’d been talking for quite a long time. She almost began to apologise, but he began to speak quietly.

“He was 20. Some sort of fight in a pub.” Caroline realised he meant the stabbing victim he’d been treating.

“In the middle of the day?” Truro wasn’t a crime-free utopia, but someone getting stabbed in a pub in broad daylight wasn’t exactly in the usual course of things.

“Yeah. Not the sort of thing I expected to see very much of back in the UK.” He looked down at his now nearly empty cup. What sort of things had he seen while working with MSF? Caroline lifted her hand, intending to place it over one of his but pulled back suddenly when he abruptly stood.

“I’d, er, I’d better get back. My shift’s over, but I still need to finish up some paperwork. Thanks for the, um, the talk.”

“I think I did most of the talking.” He smiled again, gently.

“Yes, that’s what I meant.” He paused. “I think Verity and the others are going out again on Friday, see you then, maybe?”

“Yes, see you.” He turned and headed out, stopping to drain the paper cup and dump it in the bin at the entrance. Maybe it was just Caroline’s imagination but, as he was about to go through the swing doors into the main part of the hospital, she was sure he stopped to glance back at her.

“Hey.” Elizabeth looked up, startled, smiling when she saw Caroline.

“Oh, hello. Sorry. Miles away there.”

“You okay?” Fancying a change, Caroline had gone out to a local sandwich shop to fetch something for lunch, and found Elizabeth sitting on one of the benches in the grounds, looking lost in thought. She was wearing her dark pink scrubs, glasses shoved up on top of her head.

“Yes. No. It’s just – one of my patients went into premature labour this morning. 25 weeks.”

“Oh, my…” Caroline rubbed her friend’s back gently.

“I’ve dealt with premature babies before, but it never gets any easier. She’s just so small, and we hook them up to all these machines, and the parents…”

“But chances of survival are quite good at 25 weeks, aren’t they?”

“Fairly.” Elizabeth sighed. “But that’s not much comfort to her parents. If I tell them there’s a 70% chance of their baby surviving, all they can hear is the 30% chance she won’t. It’s mostly out of my hands now, really, she’s in the NICU, but…”

“They remind you of Valentine, don’t they?” Elizabeth’s son had been premature – nothing like as early as that, but he’d had to spend a couple of weeks in hospital being monitored. Caroline hadn’t known Elizabeth then, but she’d seen the sadness in both her and George’s eyes on the rare occasions they spoke about it. Valentine was a happy, healthy boy now, but it would have been truly distressing at the time, especially for two doctors; watching their baby suffer but being unable to do anything for him.

“Yes and no.” Elizabeth glanced down and Caroline was suddenly reminded of talking to Dwight the other day, the sadness on his handsome face. She shook herself, she shouldn’t be thinking of some guy while she was comforting her friend.

“Have you seen George?”

“He’s in a long surgery. I’ll talk to him later.” Elizabeth shook her head. “Anyway, how are you? How’s Ray? I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“He’s good. He had a hyper a few days ago, but everything’s back to normal now.”

“Oh good, I’m glad.” Caroline’s Uncle Ray was an old friend of Elizabeth’s late father – it was how the two women had met. When Caroline had come to St Neot’s to take up her registrar position, Ray had invited Elizabeth and George to dinner to introduce them. Caroline had initially been embarrassed by this – her Uncle helping her to make friends like she was a child – but she’d liked them both immensely and they’d quickly become close. She was even joint godmother to little Ursula, who Elizabeth had fallen pregnant with not long after they’d met. “Don’t let me keep you. I should be getting back, anyway, I’ve got a patient being induced this afternoon.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I will be. Thank you, Caroline.” Elizabeth reached over to embrace her, and Caroline hugged her friend back tightly, but hissed as she pulled back, pain darting between her shoulder blades. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, yes. Just spent all morning bending over the treatment table.”

“Why don’t you go down and see Morwenna? I know she’s free this afternoon, a couple of her sports patients had to rearrange because their match schedule was changed last minute.”

“Do you think she’d mind me just dropping in?” Morwenna Chynoweth was Elizabeth’s cousin, and a recently qualified physiotherapist. A very skilled one at that.

“Not at all. I’ll send her a text. See you later.” With a squeeze of her hand, Elizabeth was gone. Caroline shifted on the seat, and groaned again at the ache in her back. Perhaps a visit to Morwenna wasn’t a bad idea, after all.

“Come in!” Just after getting back to her office, Caroline had received a text from Morwenna saying she could drop by any time after 3. So, after finishing up her own early afternoon schedule, each appointment making the niggling pain across her shoulders steadily worse, here she was. At Morwenna’s invitation, she pushed open the door of the treatment room, but found that the physio was not alone.

“Oh, sorry!”

“No, it’s okay, Rosina was just off.” Rosina was a pretty young blonde in a nurse’s scrubs. Clearly, Caroline wasn’t the only staff member who’d taken advantage of Morwenna’s free afternoon. Like the dermatology department, the allied health clinic was partially private but, as a small perk, hospital staff could receive treatments for free or at a reduced rate.

“Thanks, Morwenna, it really does feel better.” Rosina stood and headed out, giving Caroline a friendly smile.

“Consider getting it checked out though, will you?”

“I will!” The young nurse slipped out the door, heading along the corridor. Caroline knew better than to ask what they were talking about. Morwenna would keep her patients’ business as private as any physician.

“So, Caroline, what can I do for you?” Morwenna smiled as Caroline closed the door. Her resemblance to Elizabeth really was striking, even down to their short haircuts, although Elizabeth’s bob was softer. Caroline explained about her sore back as Morwenna directed her to sit on one of those exercise ball things, nodding encouragingly when Caroline hesitated doubtfully.

“Trust me.” When Caroline sat, Morwenna gently placed her hands on her shoulders and adjusted her posture into what Caroline realised was actually a very comfortable position. They chatted as Morwenna worked, gently manipulating Caroline’s arms, and massaging her shoulders and upper back. Like her cousin, Morwenna had a naturally soothing manner with people, making her easy to talk to. “So, what’s this new doctor like? Enys?”

“Dwight?” Caroline was immediately alert at the mention of him. She hadn’t been expecting Morwenna to ask about him, but she supposed it made sense – she knew Verity just as well as the others, so she was bound to have heard about him. “He’s..he seems nice. I haven’t, er, haven’t spoken to him much.”

“Oh yes, he definitely sounds ‘nice’.” Morwenna chuckled. “Rosina won’t shut up about him.”

“Rosina? The nurse?”

“Oh, yes. She works in A & E, and she’s done a few shifts with him. He’s the absolute bees’ knees, according to her.”

“Hmm, really?” Caroline did her best to sound disinterested. Suddenly, Morwenna did something to her between the shoulder blades and she did forget all about Dwight for a moment. “Ohhhh my God, what did you just do? That was amazing.”

“A magician never reveals her secrets.” Morwenna laughed. “Although there’s no trick to it, to be honest. You doctors all spend too much time bending over. Just try to take more breaks, whenever you can, and make sure your desk chair is adjusted properly.”

“Wow. I feel like a new woman, really.” Her stiffness was almost completely gone. She stretched, marvelling, but then remembered what they’d been talking about before. “So, um, Rosina’s impressed with Dwight’s work, then?”

“Oh, yeah, his ‘work’.” Morwenna laughed, sitting down behind her desk. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m sure he’s an excellent doctor, but I’m also fairly sure it’s not his skills in the A & E that Rosina’s really interested in.”

“Oh.” Caroline suddenly felt a lot less energised.

#poldark #caroline penvenen #dwight enys #elizabeth warleggan #morwenna chynoweth #rosina hoblyn #dwight x caroline #carolight #prescription passion #f: au #f: dc #fic #not my fic

24 notes · View notes

dmozal-cancer-walk-in-50states · 6 years

Text

Sharing Relay for Life in the Beautiful Carolina’s

As I start the final of my 50-state relay goal in 2018 I want to say how exciting this year is going to be. With only 8 states left it will be a busy year. I apologize for the huge delay in writing this blog as the first of my relays didn’t start off as expected. I fell less than 3 weeks before the first of my relays. I fractured my tibia and it slowed me down quite a bit. It made it more difficult to talk to other people because I was on crutches and was a bit uncomfortable. It was a great reminder, however, of the gifts I enjoy everyday. Health, the ability to walk without pain, the friends I have made over the year, etc.

Shallotte, North Carolina - May 4th, 2018

I must apologize for not being able to spend as much time as I would have liked with the wonderful survivors who attended the Brunswick County relay. As I mentioned, I fractured my tibia a few weeks prior to the event and walking on crutches slowed my “walking” down quite a bit! Because of that I am using photos from the Brunswick RFL Facebook page. https://www.facebook.com/Relay-For-Life-of-Brunswick-County-NC-200772466654653/ (Besides they are great)

Opening ceremony

There were many survivors at this relay compared to some I’ve attended. Each person sitting here is a survivor. They are a group of people who are strong, funny, caring, tenacious and welcoming. Thank you for letting me be a part of your relay. I was able to chat with a couple of the survivors from this group. Their stories are shared below.

Photo copied from https://www.facebook.com/Relay-For-Life-of-Brunswick-County-NC-200772466654653/

The chaplain that shared the opening prayer is also a survivor. Bill Boynton is a man of many occupations. Husband, father, grandfather, chaplain for the Brunswick County Sheriff’s Office, Lead Pastor at Church Builders of Brunswick County, and survivor (I’m sure I’m missing several more). I was so blessed to be able to sit and speak with Bill. He is a man with a very special message. But first, I want to share his story.

Me and Bill Boynton – Brunswick RFL, Shallotte, NC

Bill was diagnosed with prostate cancer a little over a year ago (June 13th). Bill had retired from his job for almost 6 months and had a physical set up that he really didn’t feel like he needed to attend. He had this feeling that he should go though. He mentioned to his doctor that he was having some issues with frequency in urination. He had no pain, no other issues, and figured it was part of getting older but his doctor is what Bill calls “thorough”. The doctor wanted him to have a PSA blood test and a digital exam. After a bit of headshaking and saying he really didn’t think it was necessary, Bill gave in even though the doctor felt there were probably no issues.

Bills PSA results were 10.2 instead of being around the normal range of 4. Because of the elevation the doctor wanted the test to be repeated. The results were a little lower but not much. Bill’s primary sent him to a urologist.

The urologist repeated the PSA bloodwork and it was elevated again so a biopsy was the next step. Bill is the type of person who researches whatever he is questioning so he is well informed. He found that this urologist only biopsied about ½ of the cores that most doctors do. After much thought he changed doctors and his new urologist was more thorough. She and Bill’s personalities matched better as they are both people who speak “matter of fact”. She took more biopsies including some that were painful to extract. She told him that these were probably the ones that were cancerous.

The results of the biopsy came back that he had a more aggressive type of cancer. Bill said he just shut down. He is a man of faith so he not only believes in God, he also knows where he is going when his time on earth is done. He was ready to give up and let whatever was going to happen just happen. He was tired and didn’t feel the fight was necessary.

Bill continues to be thankful for his gift from God, his wife! Her strength and support as his advocate and caregiver, along with the support of the rest of his family (including those who are “non-blood related”) is what pushed him to do something. Bill said these wonderful people flooded him with phone calls and messages (locally and from several states), letting him know that he needed to fight this disease. They would NOT let him shut down and give up!

After about 3 or 4 weeks of people reminding him of his importance, he contacted the doctor. His urologist sent him to his radiologist-oncologist to see if radioactive seeds would work. After discussion Bill, his wife, and the doctor decided on a prostatectomy. Bill is doing great and has had terrific bloodwork over the past few months.

“Men need to take care of themselves and not depend on doctors to bug them to be checked.” Bill said that men, especially men of color, do exactly what Bill did…..they shut down, they try to ignore what is happening, they don’t take care of themselves as they should. This is such an important message that Bill wants to share with everyone. He said “remember that your family needs you, friends need you, God has a plan but we need to take the step of taking care of ourselves”. Bill said it is important to get checked. It isn’t fun, but it is highly necessary. He also said by getting this type of check up, especially the blood test, you are choosing to take care of yourself and care for others. Bill also said if you don’t feel you have the money find a clinic that will do the PSA test for free or a minimal charge.

He also said fear puts handcuffs on you and you actually lose the ability to make a choice. Death from prostate cancer is not pleasant.

Bill has passed on the lesson he learned from his father to his children and now his grandchildren which is “nothing beats failure but a try”. What an amazing man, he cares for others, has amazing faith and shows love to everyone he meets. Again, he says don’t let fear prevent you from taking care of yourself. You remove the gift of time with others because of fear…..so instead take care of yourself.

The other survivor I talked to was Heather Kinlaw. Sadly I only talked to her for a few minutes. I was hoping we’d be able to talk again so she could share her story with me.

Heather is an event planner and has been involved with RFL for many years. She was event chair during part of her time with Relay but over the past few years she has been traveling so she hasn’t been able to be as involved with her local event as a member of the event staff. However she has been attempting to attend whatever relays she can in the states she’s traveling to.

Heather Kinlaw and me

Heather shared a few of her fundraising ideas that she has been involved in such as committee members raising money so that one of their co-committee members would receive a pie in the face. Or a T-Shirt contest where each team designed a t-shirt and people bought tickets as a way to “vote” for the design they like the most. Then that team that received the most tickets received the money from all the ticket sales as part of their fundraising money.

She had a lot of idea’s for fundraising and from the few minutes I talked to her it was obvious that family, friends, health, and community were very important to her.

Heather is not only a survivor, she is a mother, grandmother, businesswoman and volunteer. Cancer didn’t slow her down!

Two of the many people who made the Brunswick Relay such a great success were Teresa Houser and Kecia Taylor. They both took the time out of their busy day to sign my shirt and make me feel welcome.

Kecia Taylor, me and Teresa Houser

Kecia signing the T-Shirt

Teresa Houser signing the t-shirt

There was lots of fun at this event. People participated and enjoyed the day while raising money and honoring those who have been affected by cancer. The community not only raised a lot of money to fight cancer, they also shared in showing love and support for one another (such as dressing up).

Relay supporter, raising money to help others fight and cure cancer

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina - May 5, 2018

Dr. Christopher Bach shared his story during a speech at the Grand Strand Relay for Life.

He was diagnosed with acute lymphocytic leukemia that had spread to his nervous system when he was 18 months old. For the next 3-4 years he spent his time receiving chemotherapy and radiation at the National Institute of Health in Washington DC, trying to get his cancer under control. Chris said he was lucky. His cancer responded quickly to the chemo and he has been leukemia free for 33 years.

Dr. Christopher Bach and me

Chris developed a lot of respect for the medical community because of his experiences, so he started the path to becoming a medical doctor. He is now a gastroenterologist, helping prevent cancer in as many people as he can! As wonderful as that sounds his life has also had some additional dramatic events.

As with all treatments there are side effects that can linger for month, years, or even a life time. During his training to become a doctor a co-resident was practicing an ultrasound of the heart on Chris and found a tumor. Luckily, he was at John Hopkins and one of the best cardiothoracic surgeons took him to the operating room just a few days after the tumor was discovered. They found an myxoma of the left ventricle. He was told after the surgery that he was only days away from a piece of the tumor breaking off and causing a stroke or possibly death. Chris said that this “near brush with death” caused him to want to know more about the treatments he received and the type of cancer he had. He requested his records from NIH so that he could find out more information. He also reached out to his pediatric oncologist.

The chemotherapy Chris received was experimental, a treatment regimen that was new at the time of his cancer diagnosis. This regimen was so successful that it became the standard for treating his type of cancer and many lives were saved because of this new chemotherapy. The doctor told Chris that he didn’t know of a correlation between the type of chemo he received and the tumor he had but there was a great deal that the doctors didn’t know about the adverse effects that patients would incur years later.

Chris mentioned that although he is considered cancer free of the childhood leukemia he had, he is reminded of the fact that there are still residual effects that can occur. The reminder comes whenever he applies for life or disability insurance and is turned down. He also said that you take the good with the bad when you currently have, or previously had, cancer. If he hadn’t had cancer he wouldn’t be in the medical field preventing cancer and curing early colon cancer. He also says that cancer influences him but it doesn’t define him. I love the way he said “I use my past experiences to better appreciate my present, my family, my health”. He reminded us that the Relay was to celebrate life, our family and friends, and to remember who we love who did not survive. I was inspired when I listened to this man’s speech. Dr. Christopher Bach is many things….husband, father, doctor, survivor, and a man striving to destroy cancer as early as possible!

I was also privileged to meet Joe and Lee Magnani. Joe is a soft tissue sarcoma survivor of almost 8 years. He is a retired custodian that thought that the lump in his left thigh was just the result of bumping into something on his job. He was incorrect.

Joe and Lee Magnani

Lee noticed that Joe was very quiet the whole weekend which was uncharacteristic for Joe. Then Joe felt numbness in his leg so he went to Immediate Care. When he saw the doctor, she was concerned with what she was seeing so she sent him to see an orthopedic doctor to receive an MRI. While Joe was heading to receive his results Lee was fighting pneumonia and was receiving an x-ray. Lee said Joe had to receive the devastating news of his cancer alone. The MRI showed a tumor that measured 22 x 17 cm. (The size of a small football)

The doctor told Joe that he would need surgery to remove the sarcoma that was almost wrapped around the artery (there was just 1.35 mm or the thickness of a dime, between his artery and the sarcoma). If it had been wrapped around the artery there would be no way to save his leg. There was still great concern due to the size and location of the sarcoma.

On July 1, 2010 Joe had surgery. The surgery was supposed to take 4 hours but actually ended up taking 9. Lee said she prayed every prayer she knows to every Saint she could think of as she waited with her brother and sister for news on Joe’s condition. When the doctor finally appeared, he told Lee he had good news and bad. Lee asked for the good news first. The doctor said he was able to save Joe’s leg. The bad news was that they had to remove a lot of his quadriceps muscle and nerves so he would most likely need to wear a brace for the rest of his life because his leg was numb in the area of the surgery. (a brace much like people with polio wear)

Joe had some issues during his healing including gangrene that developed because he was on the operating table for so long. That same leg had previously had a hernia and now also developed a clot. During the 23 days Joe was in the hospital, he had 4 different surgeries. The Magnani’s said they had the best surgeon, Dr. John Healey, orthopedic chief surgeon at Sloan Kettering. The doctor is an expert at what he does and is world renowned, having patients from all over the world.

Joe and Lee also had to drive into New York for 23 days to receive radiation treatments. This is a feat during normal circumstances especially with traffic and riding in the car for hours, etc. but they did it!

Lee has had her own health issues, some because of the stress of watching her spouse go through so much. So Joe had additional great caregivers besides his wife Lee. Lee’s sister and brother took turns visiting Joe at the hospital because Lee couldn’t due to her lung issues. (it also happened to be the hottest summer in years in New York which contributed to Lee’s lung problems)

On one of the many visits to New York to see the doctor Joe saw a girl around 15 years old that no longer had one of her legs. Joe said he was so very thankful he was able to keep his leg.

Joe has a really good attitude. He and Lee made a pact for Joe to walk every morning when he got home from the hospital. The first few days he’d walk with Lee for about a half block. Lee was still working and Joe told her that she needed to go to work and he would walk by himself. Lee was worried about Joe falling but he promised to “fall on the grass”. See, good attitude! He did walk and continue to add steps every day to build up his strength. It worked! To also keep his leg working properly he goes to water aerobics 5 days a week. In the winter they walk in the mall and stores.

Joe now wears a compression sock that he puts on every day. He also uses a compression boot a couple of times a day to keep the circulation working correctly so he doesn’t get swelling in his leg. Having lymphedema seems to be a small price to pay to keep his leg.

Because of Joe’s condition with his leg bugs seem to love him. These bites cause cellulitis and it can be dangerous. Lee can tell exactly what is going on so she watches Joe closely. Joe is also great about saying when he doesn’t feel good. He also wants to make sure that people (especially men) say something when they aren’t feeling right. If something is wrong, don’t ignore it. Get it checked before it becomes too far advanced.

Joe and Lee were great fun, they really like each other and have grown so much stronger with having to deal with cancer. They continue to live life to the fullest and remind people of the importance of taking care of their health and paying attention to their bodies.

Keri Wells was diagnosed with thyroid cancer in February 2007. While she was visiting her family in Iowa at Christmas time, December of 2006, she had flu-like symptoms and decided to go to urgent care. When they were checking her glands the doctor said she thought Keri might have a goiter and wanted her to see her own doctor to follow up.

Me and Keri Wells

Keri went to the doctor and he wanted her to have a biopsy. Thyroid biopsies can be very uncomfortable and she had 16 spots they biopsied. She received the call at work giving her the diagnosis. Keri finds that tough because you need to focus on your job but “cancer” is all you can think about. She called her mom who took the diagnosis hard as well. Looking back at family pictures she and her mother realized that the goiters had been growing for years. As she was growing up it seemed she was developing an Adams Apple but because it was so gradual no one really noticed.

Keri went to a surgeon who said that she actually had 2 goiters (one in front of the other) and because of the size they needed to be removed. When Keri went to see the surgeon he didn’t have her pathology report yet. As she was on her way home from the appointment the surgeon called and said he had just received the report. He didn’t realize how large the goiters were. He told her that she needed to have them removed as quickly as possible. The problem was he was going out of town so he was going to have to pass her to another surgeon to have a full thyroidectomy.

Keri didn’t meet the new surgeon until just before the surgery. As a corrections officer Keri asked her new surgeon to make sure her scar didn’t make her look like she’d been shanked. He did a fantastic job!

It was also discovered that Keri had a lot of cancer cells wrapped around her vocal cords that they weren’t able to remove. Most “normal” people have a single dose of radioactive iodine to kill the cells but Keri has had 5 doses. She’s had one impatient and 4 outpatient treatments.

The hardest part of her treatments was the high dose of radioactive iodine she had to receive. It was so strong that she had to live in an isolation room during the treatment, throw away her clothes once it was complete, the nurses had to wear hazmat-type suits, and it took 3 days for her to get her levels low enough to leave the hospital. It is very unusual to have so many rounds of this treatment. Keri also said she has had to eat a low iodine diet 3 times and it is very hard to follow (and not appetizing at all).

Before she left Minnesota in April 2011 she had a scan and has been cancer free since then. She has yearly scans now but from 2007-2011 she had scan’s every 6 months. Keri said she also has breast cancer in her family so she is very careful to be checked.

Keri has blood work every 3 months to make sure she is doing well. Although I’ve heard often that thyroid cancer is one of the best cancers to get Keri reminded me that any cancer can kill you. Also, the thyroid regulates everything in the body so it’s function is very necessary. She said that with any type of cancer you always have to continue to be careful and pay attention to your body.

Keri has some non-thyroid issues but other than that she is feeling great. She has been participating in the Relay’s in her area since she came to South Carolina in 2011.

Keri said she isn’t someone who would go to the doctor often because she has always been fairly healthy but she realizes now the importance of having a yearly, full body checkup. Catching cancer as early as possible is vital.

I also met Susan and Scott Berman. Susan is a 24-year breast cancer survivor. (I just LOVE hearing that) She discovered her cancer during her self-exam. She found the lump in December of 1994 and when she called for an appointment her doctor’s office didn’t have any available until January. Susan was so concerned with what she felt that she called the clinic. They had an available appointment on Friday of that same week. The lump she discovered was the size of a golf ball (3 1/2 cm).

Me, Susan and Scott Berman

The doctor that examined her was also concerned so she called the head of surgery to get Susan in for a biopsy. The head of surgery did the biopsy that same day and told Susan he wanted to do a lumpectomy on Monday (yes he could tell it was cancer and even more amazing he wanted her to have surgery just a few days later).

The surgeon called a few days after the lumpectomy to say he wasn’t sure they got all the cancer. Susan told him that she wanted a mastectomy to “get all the cancer out”. The doctor wanted to make sure Susan understood what she would look like so she wouldn’t be surprised when she came out of surgery. Susan was very sure of the decision she was making. They moved very quickly through the whole process. One-week later Susan had the mastectomy. She said after the surgery she was relieved. She knew that for her this was the right decision.

After the surgery Susan had to have chemotherapy. Her treatment regimen was a three-week repeating cycle - one week she had chemo and the two weeks in between she was on an oral medication. She did this for 6 months. The doctor gave her many options when he discussed chemotherapy, including breast reconstruction, and told her they weren’t going to do anything yet. He wanted her to think about the decisions she was going to make.

Susan hated the way she was feeling from the chemotherapy so by the fourth month of treatment she talked to her oncologist and told him she didn’t want to continue the treatments. She was so tired and depressed. She had no hair, no energy and just felt really bad. The doctor understood and said they would change her dose that day and make it her last treatment. He gave her anti-nausea medication before the treatment and when she was done that day she went home feeling better than she had for any of the other treatments.

Susan was glad because she had a trip to Virginia planned with her husband and she already hated that she had no hair and had to wear a wig, she didn’t want to be feeling sick as well.

After 3 years Susan was cleared by her doctor. She did have reconstruction for the breast that had been removed and a reduction on the other breast.

The other issue that Susan has had is lymphedema. She isn’t sure if it developed on its own but she feels that it may have been brought on by a spider bite she received when she was out hanging clothes one day. It is tough to deal with sometimes but she faces it head on.

Susan said if she could tell someone what she feels would help them it is to not be so afraid that they don’t do anything. Go to the doctor, hit it head on, get the cancer out and move on. It’s tough but important for survival.

Susan and Scott are very close. Scott is a supportive husband and partner. He also has words of advice.

He said he realizes that this disease was devastating for his wife. It is hard because he sees that it can make a woman feel awkward, uncomfortable, etc. but he says as Susan’s husband, lover, and partner he has always looked at her as beautiful and amazing (and he always will).

This couple has lost many family members and friends to this disease. They also had friends who have survived or are dealing with cancer currently. They have been involved with Relay for 20 years.

Scott and Susan, and relayer’s enjoying dancing portion

Susan and Scott continue to live fulfilling and busy lives. They enjoy each other’s company and do things together, always busy with something like dancing or being involved with their children and grandchildren. They laugh at the fact that they are busier now than when they were younger. They take care of themselves and others, and hope everyone will do the same!

Nan Hastings is a mom, grandma, coworker, runner, friend, and a 2-time breast cancer survivor.

Nan Hasting, me and Troy Matheny

She and her good friend Michele Hartman formed a cancer support group in 2013 when Nan had just finished her treatments for her 2nd fight against breast cancer. Michele's husband was still battling papillary thyroid cancer. A good friend of these two ladies was going through treatments herself and mentioned to Michele and Nan that she wished there was more support for people going through treatments. Michele and Nan said they didn’t see why they couldn’t start a support group for all cancers.

During that time someone asked about donating to their support group. At first, they didn’t know what they would do with the money, but as they talked about it more, they decided to become a 501(c)(3). All donations they receive go to residents in Horry County, helping local people with bills such as electric, gas cards, phone, and food. As Nan said, people fighting cancer worry about not only their health but also the bills. So many bills come in, work life is often affected, and it isn’t healthy for people to be struggling with these worries. They lose sleep or are affected in other physical ways but that energy needs to be used to fight their cancer.

The group is having a 5K on June 30th. You can see more information on their Facebook page https://www.facebook.com/CopingTogetherNorthStrandSC/

For Nan, she was a single mom for her first round of cancer, and she had a son that wanted to join the golf team but she didn’t have the $30.00 because every dollar went to bills and medical costs. Then one day she received $500 from a dear friend. The friend told her to use the money for whatever she needed. Nan knew at that moment that when she was able to she wanted to do the same thing. It is amazing that her second round of cancer is where that desire became a reality.

Now Nan is healthy, helping others through some of the financial issues they are going through, and enjoying life every day!

Troy Matheny is the Senior Community Development Manager for Myrtle Beach and a very energetic, caring person. He has the most amazing drive to help others, is exceptional at fundraising, and has a big heart.

As part of promoting the Grand Strand Relay for Life event I participated in a live show called Carolina & Company with Troy. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b_JpvlWW0Is I was so nervous that I didn’t say the main reason I am Relaying in every state. The goal is to share peoples’ stories so that others may be impacted in some way, as I am impacted every time I hear their journey. The hope is that someday we will Relay to celebrate the end of cancer and the people who have made the cure possible.

The theme at this year’s Grand Strand event was Dr. Seuss and Troy had a pair of light up tennis shoes that he wore when the sun went down (during the rain). His enthusiasm was contagious!

Troy Matheny signing the Relay shirts

Troy signed my shirts. He also has some great contacts that seem very willing to help in other ways than just financial. He had a contact at the Crown Reef Resort at Myrtle Beach that help me tremendously with the financial burden of a hotel room. Being self-funded means the cost of travel can really add up. The Crown Reef went above and beyond to help with that financial burden. Not only did they help me but their facility was great to stay at, beautiful ocean view, and fun activities for people to enjoy. I would love to visit again someday and would highly recommend them! https://www.crownreef.com/

Both Carolina relays were enjoyable and raised a lot of money for American Cancer Society. The people were kind, friendly, and supportive....not only to others in their community, but for a couple from Michigan as well. A common goal shared by uncommonly kindhearted and caring people!

#relayforlife #relay #southcarolina #carolina #americancancersociety #cancer #survivor #northcarolina

2 notes · View notes