funnee croc

Re: prompts. “Quarantine.” Alternatively, something based off urban legends. Thanks!

Well it took me forever, but hey, the world is crazy and I am just so proud of myself for finishing this Quarantine AU for you! It’s definitely WAY bigger than a drabble (at just over 2700 words) but I had a lot of fun writing it and it really pushed my abilities as a writer. Thank you for the ask! Enjoy :)

Edit: Now posted to AO3

Here With(out) You

“Are you getting close to finishing? It’s almost eight o’clock and we haven’t eaten dinner yet,” Zen says as he plops down beside Shirayuki—well, not exactly beside her, but just outside the orbit of her ever-present sticky notes, journal articles, and scratch-paper lesson plans. She acknowledges his presence with a noncommittal hum before continuing her vigorous typing on the laptop balanced on her knees. Even before the pandemic, it wasn’t totally unusual for Shirayuki to work late—she is a graduate student, after all—but lately she has been spending every waking hour on either her lab’s vaccine research or creating online lessons for her introductory biology students.

Zen’s work-life balance honestly hasn’t been much better, but since most of his work as the Mayor’s Chief of Staff involves writing reports and attending video call meetings, he can turn off his computer at the end of the day and walk away from work. Shirayuki, unfortunately, does not have the same luxury.

His stomach growls, upset at the lack of food this late in the evening. Zen reaches over, guiding a stray hair behind her ear before setting his palm against her shoulder to get her attention.

“I can make us something easy, if you want. You really should take a break to eat something.”

Shirayuki doesn’t respond. He squeezes her shoulder gently and dips his head to try to catch her gaze, but she reacts with naught but a firm pursing of her lips as she scrutinizes her screen even more. Zen gives her a small shake, as if to wake her.

“Hm?” She blinks up at him, broken from her trance, her voice sounding thin and tired. “Sorry, Zen, I really need to get this done tonight.”

She gestures vaguely to the smudged sticky-note to-do list by her laptop keyboard, the usual tasks of exercise, meal prep, and do something fun with Zen and friends crammed between terms he half-recognizes as different types of data analyses.

“We have our Friday meeting tomorrow and I need to have the preliminary results ready to present.”

“It’s fine,” he says, rubbing his hand up and down her arm and offering her a tender smile as she turns back to her spreadsheet. She is such a hard worker, and right now she’s both working to save lives and to educate the next generation of scientists. Now was not the time to be selfish—even though he misses spending time with her, they just have to push through. And if that means Zen has to cook meals by himself, without Shirayuki’s incredible culinary talent for support, then he will gladly put his limited skill to use.

“How about I make pancakes?” he suggests, “I think we still have some eggs that need to be used, so I could scramble them too—if you want?”

Without looking up, Shirayuki murmurs a dry, “Sounds great, thank you.”

Zen stands and makes his way to their kitchen, rolling up his sleeves as he goes. Even after three years of living together and countless Sundays spent chopping endless armies of vegetables as they prepped meals, there are few dishes he trusts himself to cook properly. It’s Mitsuhide and Kiki’s fault, really. When they were his roommates sophomore year, he tried his hand at a simple vegetable stew to feed Mitsuhide’s hockey team at their annual fall party. The final product honestly wasn’t half bad, but he forgot to peel the vegetables, which gave the soup a mild dirt-like aftertaste.

He honestly thought he would be able to laugh it off and learn from such a minor culinary mistake, but it turned out almost no one was willing to let him live it down—even Shirayuki couldn't resist the occasional jab when they cooked together. Indeed, one of the last times they enjoyed quality time together was during a massive day of meal prepping after their first pandemic shopping trip. Hours of chopping and grating and sautéing had driven them a little crazy, and Shirayuki had broken out in giggles while he diligently peeled his seventeenth potato.

It had taken some prodding, but eventually she managed to hold back her laughter enough to snicker, "It’s nice of you to actually peel them this time."

He’d responded with the most convincing glare he could muster before selecting a particularly long piece of peel from the pile on the counter, turning to her with a dangerous smirk, and depositing said peel on top of her head. This only served to bring back her laughter in full-force, the contagiousness of it gripping him and dragging him along until their whole house reverberated with the ridiculousness of it all.

Unlike vegetable soups, Zen had yet to mess up a batch of pancakes in his lifetime, a fact which he was quite proud of. That’s why he’d chosen to make them for Shirayuki the first morning after she stayed the night at his place. They’d groggily rolled out of bed, blushing furiously as they realized that their late-night study session for Advanced Composition had ended with both of them passed out on top of Zen’s covers with their laptops discarded by the foot of the bed. He’d insisted on making her breakfast before she left, partly because he felt bad about their awkward start to the day, but mostly because he’d been smitten with her for months and he just wanted to keep doing things with her.

Zen smiles at the memory as he gathers the ingredients and begins measuring out the flour. Even after all this time, he still treasures every moment together. And now, as they are stuck working from home for the foreseeable future, he misses her more than he did before they moved in together. Although they are around each other nearly all day, every day, they hardly interact outside of breakfast and a kiss goodnight. He sighs and forces his focus back to mixing the batter. Shirayuki is working hard and here he is being selfish again. He should be stronger.

Pushing down his loneliness, he flings himself into scrambling eggs and flipping pancakes with gusto. He quickly finishes the first set of pancakes, butters them, and stacks them neatly on Shirayuki’s plate next to her portion of eggs. For the final touch, he sprinkles a hint of powdered sugar across them and places a little dollop of fruit preserves on top. Hopefully these would look appetizing enough to entice her into taking a break from work to eat. With her plate in hand, Zen makes his way back to the living room and sets her meal on the coffee table.

“Food’s ready,” he announces. “Please don’t forget to eat.”

Shirayuki pauses, tired eyes flicking away from her screen to meet his and offering all the gratitude she can muster. “Thank you, Zen. I promise I will eat as soon as I finish this analysis.”

Zen offers a quick smile in return before heading back to the kitchen to make dinner for himself. He’d better check on her soon, just to make sure she doesn’t get sucked into her work despite her promise—although it is never intentional, her basic needs often fall by the wayside when she is hyper-focused like this.

Fifteen minutes later, Zen returns to the living room with his own stack of pancakes (chocolate chip) and scrambled eggs (sprinkled with his friend Obi’s homemade hot sauce, because the pain was always worth the flavor). And just as he feared, Shirayuki hasn’t touched her food.

“How’s it coming? Are you going to eat soon?” Zen settles into his spot on the couch next to her and cuts into his pancakes with his fork.

“Hm? Oh yes, I figured out why that regression was behaving unexpectedly, I had just flipped the variables.” She bites her lip. “I guess after I fixed that, I just moved on to the next thing.”

Zen reaches out to tenderly place a hand on her cheek and guide her eyes away from her screen and to his own. Her eyelids droop a little, and he notices a small crease between her eyebrows—she looks so tired. He drags his thumb across her cheekbone and her eyes flutter shut as she relaxes into his hand.

His heart skips a little at the intimacy of their position; after all, it had been weeks since they had really shared a moment like this, just comfortable in stillness with each other’s full attention. Eyes still closed, Shirayuki reaches up to hold his hand against her cheek and sighs as she turns her head to press her lips against his palm. With a gentle squeeze of his hand, she releases him and turns to exchange her laptop for her plate.

Although she continues working while they eat, Zen is relieved to see her diligently taking bites between bits of code. It doesn’t take long before she cleans her plate entirely. With a yawn, Zen stretches and rises from the couch before collecting their dishes and returning to the kitchen to clean up. The clock above the stove reads 10:08pm.

How did it get so late? He’d just have to head right to bed after this. Dozing off during his morning call with the Mayor was not how he wanted to start his day tomorrow.

After finishing the dishes and changing into his sleep shirt, he returns to the living room to let Shirayuki know he’s going to bed—apparently she still has a couple hours of work ahead of her, but she promised she’d come to bed as soon as she was done. With Shirayuki resigned to her work for the night, Zen heads to their bed and does his best to get comfortable. As the weight of the blanket settles over him, he melts into the mattress and takes the deepest, most relaxing breath he’s taken all day. Despite his body giving in to its need to rest, Zen’s mind still races with thoughts of the meeting tomorrow morning and of the latest case counts in the city. God, he can’t wait for the day when all of this chaos is over. He and Shirayuki could take a weekend off and hike Mount Koto just like they did senior year after finals. He sighs at the thought.

Visions of them packing their picnic supplies into his old backpack flash through his mind. He’s smiling as he makes Shirayuki’s sandwich with the mustard by the meat and the veggies under the cheese, just the way she likes it. The sunshine warms their faces as they walk along the trail, and Shirayuki is a vision in her button-up hiking shirt and sunhat, all glowing skin and bright smiles. He reaches their picnic spot first, so he spreads their blanket and sets out their food. Shirayuki’s still a ways behind, but she’ll be there with him soon, he tells himself. She will. He busies himself smoothing the blanket and making sure her sandwich is arranged just so with a nice serving of chips and a gleaming red apple.

He’s just about to polish her apple for a second time when he realizes he doesn’t hear the crunch of her footsteps on the trail anymore. Panicked, he shoots up from his seat and runs over to the trail to try to find her, to no avail. Maybe she went off-trail to relieve herself? No that can’t be it, she’s taking way too long, and she would have told him if she was going off trail, right? Oh god—what if she hurt herself and she’s stuck somewhere down the trail? Zen abandons the picnic and runs as fast as his legs can take him down the trail, until—

He hears the faint tapping of fingers on a keyboard. Looking across the trail, he sees the edge of a laptop screen poking out from behind a tree. As he approaches it, the sound gets louder and louder, until it feels almost deafening and Zen has to cover his ears to avoid the incessant din. He looks around the tree’s thick trunk and sees Shirayuki in front of the screen, her hair disheveled and eyes unblinking as she types away.

She’s absolutely overworking herself! Zen can’t let her keep doing this. He should have caught it before it got this bad, he should have pulled her away from work and made her take care of herself. Regardless, he refuses to let this go on any longer. He takes a deep breath, removes his hands from his ears, and reaches out to set his hand on her shoulder as he always does when he needs to get her attention. His hand goes right through her, as if she were a ghost.

He wakes to find her side of the bed empty.

Zen’s sleep shirt is clinging to his sweating chest and the sheets are tangled up in his legs. He kicks them off and rolls over with a groan. So much for getting a good nights’ sleep before the meeting tomorrow morning. He reaches for his bedside lamp, trying to feel the small switch in the dark. It takes him a minute, fingers clumsy and sleep-addled, but he finally finds it with a click and squints against the soft, yellow light. He yawns and drags his phone towards him by its charging cable and groans again when he sees the time. 2:37am.

With little desire to return to the stifling sheets, he decides it’s best to just get out of bed and have a glass of water before trying to sleep again. He shuffles out of the bedroom, and as the door clicks behind him, his tired mind peripherally registers that the living room light is still on. But with water being his body’s primary goal, he drowsily continues on to the kitchen and downs a full glass in three big gulps when he gets there. With his mind cleared from the coolness of the water, he realizes that even though the living room light is still on, Shirayuki’s persistent typing is absent.

When he reaches the living room, he finds Shirayuki on the couch, slumped to the side with her lips parted and a quiet snore escaping her with each exhale.  Her laptop is open and teetering dangerously close to the edge of her lap, but the screen has long since shut itself off. There’s still a pencil behind her ear, too.

With as much gentleness as he can muster this late at night, Zen extracts her laptop and moves it over to her desk so it can charge overnight. He removes the pencil from behind her ear and brushes her hair away from her eyes.

“Shirayuki, come to bed.” Her eyes crack open ever so slightly, and she grumbles but does not stir. Zen sighs. Even in sleep—no, especially in sleep—she’s as stubborn as ever.

“I’m going to pick you up, okay?” She mumbles something unintelligible, but’s all the affirmation he needs. He pushes his arms underneath her knees and shoulders, steels himself, and scoops her up. At first, her head lolls to the side, but then she turns and nuzzles against his chest. He can’t help but smile down at her as he carries her back to the bedroom and slowly places her on top of the sheets.

“Shirayuki, you should change out of your clothes,” he says.

She stirs a bit before slurring, “Don’t wanna. Wanna sleep.”

“If you don’t change now, you’ll regret it in the morning. You know you will.”

At this, Shirayuki groans and pushes herself up off the mattress. She insists he help her take off her clothes, which makes him laugh and blush in equal measure.

It’s only after she is changed and settled under the sheets that he finally lets himself sink into their bed again, mind and body finally relaxed with the knowledge that she’s next to him and already half asleep. He turns off his bedside lamp with a click and lets the rhythm of her breathing lull him back to sleep. Just as the last remains of his consciousness are about to slip away, he feels the delicate press of fingers against his shoulder, the tickle of a whisper against his ear, and the softness of a kiss against his temple.

“Thank you, Zen. I love you.”

I’ll Be Home for Christmas

Josh Lyman x Reader

Words: 2074

Summary: After spending two weeks on a tiring case in New York, you want nothing more than to spend the holidays with your husband in D.C. A snow storm has other plans.

Notes: This is a late Christmas present for my sister @bensolocanbesaved

-

With one final click of closing your briefcase, your time in New York was finally over. You’d been assisting on a case for two weeks and you wanted to go home. When your friend had asked for your advice, you expected to be there for a few days, not for the entirety of the trial. 

The New York City streets were bustling with last-minute holiday shoppers. It was December 23rd and the city was bursting with Christmas spirit. You were a New York native, but all you wanted was to get back home to D.C. where your husband was waiting with gallons of hot chocolate. It was your first Christmas as husband and wife and you couldn’t wait to go home. Tucked in the bottom of your suitcase was your present for Josh. It was a silver watch with the words Merry Christmas Lemon. Love, your wife engraved on the back. 

You shuffled along the crowded sidewalk, double-checking the time for your flight on your ticket. You were supposed to fly out at 8:00 that night, but the news channels were warning of a snowstorm headed towards the city. The storm wasn’t supposed to start until 10:00, so you hoped that you would fly out on time. You could hardly wait. 

Josh, on the other hand, was buried behind a rather large pile of papers that covered his desk. He had been busy looking through statistics and economic essays all day and he was nearly finished. He was preparing for an interview about the President’s new plan for inflation (this one not being a secret/nonexistent one). He could just see the blond hair head peeking over one of the stacks. 

“I checked the weather,” Donna informed him. 

“Hmmm?” He didn’t even look up from the paper he was reading. 

“I checked the weather for tonight and things aren’t looking good.” 

“Donna, context.” He broke away from reading to finally look at her.

“Please tell me I’m not the only one worried about your wife making it back for Christmas.” Donna turned on the weather channel and an ugly blue mass was moving towards New York. Josh put down the paper and pulled his chair up to the television. 

“You have got to be kidding me.” He ran a hand down his face. Christmas was your absolute favorite holiday and you had been over the moon about decorating and presents and baking cookies. You would be heartbroken if you spent the holiday at a crowded airport. “It isn’t supposed to hit until later tonight. She’ll fly out before, right?” 

“Now they're saying it’s moving faster than they thought.” Donna sighed, pointing to the ominous red blob heading straight for his wife. He let his head fall into his hands, letting out an irritated groan. 

“How long is it supposed to last?” He muttered from behind his fingers. He was afraid to look at her expression and when he did it was not promising. According to the weather channel, the storm was supposed to last until midnight… on Christmas Day. “She can’t miss Christmas!” Josh turned off the television and threw the remote. 

“Don’t panic. I’m sure that…” Donna tried to think of something that would make him feel better. “Maybe there will be a Christmas miracle.” Josh narrowed his eyes at her and she quickly exited his office, brushing past Sam on her way out.

“What’s going on?” Sam wondered, seeing the troubled expression on Josh’s face. 

“My Christmas spirit is dwindling on empty, Sam.” He blew out a long breath. 

“You had any, to begin with?” Sam smirked, leaning against Josh’s desk. “Snowstorm in New York?”

“Yup.”

“Can she rent a car and drive here?” He suggested. Josh shook his head. 

“The roads will be closed.” 

“It’s that bad?” 

“Yup.” Sam gave him a half-smile and a pat on the shoulder. 

“If things don’t work out, you can come spend Christmas with me.” Josh returned the smile and sighed. 

“Thanks.” Sam went back to his office and the phone started to ring. “Lyman,” Josh answered. 

“Josh?” Your voice started from the other end. “So there’s been a problem with my flight and I don’t know when I’ll be getting back.” 

“I saw.” He leaned back in his chair. “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m at the airport. I’m fine, just a little hungry.” You laughed, trying to keep your attitude bright. “I just wanted to call and tell you what’s going on. They’re not sure how long the flight will be delayed.” 

“Don’t worry, honey, I’m sure that the snow will pass. It’ll be a…” Josh blew out a breath. “Christmas miracle.” 

“I hope so.” You smiled, although there wasn’t much hope for the situation. “Merry-”

“Don’t say it.” Josh blurted. “You can say it when you get here.” You laughed. 

“Okay, okay.” You leaned against the wall, the rest of the terminal forgotten. You would give anything to just see him smile. “I love you.” 

“I love you too. I’ll see you soon.” 

You hung up and found a seat amongst the other irritated passengers. Taking the watch out of your bag, you looked at its surface and felt each engraved letter under your fingers. The snowflakes drifted down, turning the world into a blur of white. You looked up at the sky, feeling your hope fade. With a heavy sigh, you put the watch back in your bag, muttering to yourself. 

“This is what you get for wanting a white Christmas, Mrs. Lyman.” 

-

The next morning came around and there was little improvement in the weather. The blizzard howled on and you were stuck sleeping in an uncomfortable chair in the terminal since you were far too stubborn to check into a hotel- something Josh feared, but entirely expected. 

“You slept at the airport, didn’t you?” You didn’t have to see Josh to sense his disapproval. 

“I am not going to spend hundreds to stay in a hotel I don’t need to stay at!” You defended a little too loudly. The seemingly grouchy older woman sitting across from you gave you a dirty look. “I’m perfectly fine, Josh.” You said, this time quieter. 

“I really don’t like the idea of you sleeping in a dirty airport with who knows what kind of people.” When he was worried, Josh tended to talk faster than usual. He went on about the crime rates in New York while you tried to get a word in. 

“Josh… Josh… Babe… Joshua!” You finally yelled, earning another dirty look. 

“What?” 

“I’m fine.” You laughed. “Besides, if anyone tries to mug me, I’ll just hit them with the briefcase that C.J. gave me last year. This thing weighs more than my whole desk!” 

“If you’re trying to make me feel better, it isn’t working.” He scowled, though you could hear a slight chuckle in his voice. 

“Really, honey, I’m fine.” You looked at your watch, feeling your stomach growl for breakfast. “I’m going to grab something to eat, but I’ll call you if there are any updates.” 

“Okay.” Josh tapped a pencil on his desk, his glum expression returning. “Love you. Bye.” When he put the phone down, Sam knocked on the door frame. 

“Still stuck?” 

“Yup.” Josh tossed the pencil across the desk in frustration. “It’s just my luck, though, isn’t it? First Christmas married and my wife is stuck in an airport!” 

“What’s he yelling about?” C.J. asked, appearing next to Sam. 

“Y/N’s flight was delayed because of a snowstorm and now she’s spending Christmas at LaGuardia.” He explained. 

“She’s not going to be back in time?” C.J. exclaimed. “Is there anything we can do?” 

“Unless you want to ask the President to control the weather, I don’t think so.” Josh rested his chin on his hand. He looked like a kid who just found out there was no Santa. C.J. and Sam exchanged a glance before heading back to work. 

You spent most of the day reading travel books at one of the little shops in the airport. Frankly, you were more bored than anything else. There still weren’t any updates on the delay and you didn’t want to call Josh again since you knew he was probably busy. The overhead speakers were playing an endless drone of Christmas songs, all failing to lift your spirits. You missed the tree and the lights and the mistletoe, but most of all you just missed your husband. 

Josh’s day didn’t go much better, either. He worked on figuring out the number of votes they would have for legislation over the new inflation plan. He tried to get his mind off of the holiday, but his heart still dropped every time he saw a wreath. He almost snapped at Margaret for humming “I’ll Be Home for Christmas”. 

“Where’s your holiday spirit?” Leo wondered, sensing Josh’s unpleasant attitude as Josh entered his office. 

“In New York,” Josh mumbled. 

“Snowstorm?” 

“Yup.” 

“Ah, I’m sorry Josh.” He set his glasses down on his desk, looking up at the gloomy Deputy Chief of Staff. “You know, we’re pretty much finishing up for the day. Why don’t you go home? Or at least go spend the holiday with Sam or someone.” 

“Is there any chance Air Force One-”

“No.” 

“I figured.” Josh gave him a small smile. “Merry Christmas, Leo.” 

“Merry Christmas, Josh,” Leo responded. “Don’t be too much of a Scrooge. Who knows, there could be a-”

“Christmas miracle?” Josh laughed, shaking his head. “Not this year.” The two said goodnight and Josh started back towards his office. He turned to corner, nearly running into the excited blond. “Damn it, Donna!” 

“I was right!” She exclaimed. “You mocked the miracle, but I was right!” 

“What did I say about context?” Josh ran a hand down his face, trying to keep his temper in check. He was tired and frustrated, which was not a great combination. 

“The roads might be dangerous and traffic would take all night to get through, but the Christmas miracle is real!” She squealed. She pointed to her computer screen. “There is one road from D.C into New York that’s open. You could make it there by midnight.” Josh’s eyes widened and a smile spread across his face. 

“Donna, you are the Christmas miracle.” Josh cheered, giving her a quick hug before rushing to his office to grab his keys along with the small, rectangular box containing a gold charm bracelet. As he hurried out, he called back to Donna. “Get me some mistletoe because I am kissing my wife on Christmas!” 

-

“Flight 1-7-2 to Washington D.C. has been canceled until further notice.” The voice over the speaker dreadfully announced. You heard a chorus of groans from the other passengers and let out a disappointed sigh. You let your head fall into your hands, feeling the rest of your hope fade. 

“Miss?” A voice said quietly. One of the airport employees stood in front of you, holding a small sack. “Merry Christmas.” She held up a candy cane, giving you a bright smile. You tried to mimic her grin and took the striped candy. You tried to get some sleep, but it was no use. The clock was nearing midnight but people still bustled around you. You got yourself a cup of coffee. If you weren’t going to sleep, you would fuel your caffeine addiction. You had just lifted the styrofoam cup to your lips. 

“Can I have Mrs. Y/N Lyman to the front desk please?” A smug new voice said over the intercom. You dropped your coffee as you whirled around, seeing the smiling face of your husband standing across the terminal. You couldn’t reach each other fast enough, both of you sprinting across the sleek tile floor. He opened his arms and you ran into them, burying yourself in his embrace, laughing as joyful tears filled your eyes. 

“How did you get here?” You asked, pulling back to see his beaming face. 

“There was one road open and I drove all night.” You smacked his shoulder. “Ow! What was that for?” 

“You drove in a blizzard?” You exclaimed, smacking him again. He just shrugged, giving you another grin. 

“I’m taking you home for Christmas.” You tugged on his scarf, bringing him in for a kiss. It was that moment, however, that you both realized that you were already home. 

The Last Snoggletog | Phantomverse Snoggletog One-Shot

Also read on: AO3, FF.net

Summary: Four winters after the Phantom has stopped haunting them, Berk celebrates Snoggletog. Finding that perhaps, in many ways, the Phantom is still with them after all. 

Set after the events of The Phantom of the Arena, and about half a year before those of the sequel (currently WIP), The Phantom of the Archipelago.

A/N: Merry Christmas to those of you who celebrate it! I am very happy to be back in the Phantomverse with a little story for the holidays. This one-shot is set after the events of the Phantom of the Arena and hence contains major spoilers for that story.

It is also set about half a year before the events of the sequel I am working on as I post this – The Phantom of the Archipelago… 

Winter storms were a yearly recurrence on Berk. They were sudden, unpredictable, gripping you with full force before you properly realised what you’d gotten yourself into. Their strong winds released torrents of snow right in your face, making your skin feel as if it was being grazed by ice while you slowly lost any sense of feeling in your fingers. No number of layers of clothes would help, they all became soaked through more quickly than you expected them to, after which they’d freeze to your limbs, turning your skin red and finally blue. The only thing you could do was look for shelter, hoping, praying to the Gods that they’d cease their torment and allow you to make it through the night. 

Astrid Hofferson wasn’t sure which alternative was worse. The snowstorms the Gods brought down upon them, or dealing with the blizzard that was a three-year old on Snoggletog Day. 

“Mummy!”

She felt something pull on her sleeve and looked down into a pair of big, absurdly green eyes, surrounded by a smattering of freckles all belonging to Hamish Hofferson. She was about to open her mouth to tell him off when he was whisked away by a pair of hands that weren’t hers. 

“What did we say about going near the fire?” her mother scolded Hamish, lifting him up under his armpits and looking at him with a strict expression.

Astrid didn’t need to see Hamish’s face to know he was pouting. “But -”

“No, Hamish, what did we say?” her mother insisted. 

Hamish’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “It’s dangerous.”

“Right,” her mother nodded. “So don’t do it.”

“But I wanna know when Odin’s coming!” Hamish squirmed, twisting his head to look at his mother.

Astrid rolled her eyes and smiled to herself as she stirred the pot in front of her. He definitely hadn’t been asking her that question non-stop since this morning.

“Grandpa Stoick isn’t here yet,” she reminded him. “He has to make sure everyone is okay first.”

“Cause he’s the Chief!” Hamish beamed as if he was the only one in the room who was aware of that information. 

“Exactly,” her father nodded, scratching his brown beard. “And Odin doesn’t deliver presents if you’re watching.”

“Why not?” Hamish asked.

Because none of it is true, Astrid mused to herself, blowing on the ladle and taking a sip. She pondered for a moment before turning to her mother. “Mom, do you think this needs more yak?”

“I’m sure it tastes great, honey,” her mother instantly replied. 

She tasted again, really letting the beverage simmer on her tongue, and nodded to herself. “Yeah, I actually think this might be my best batch of yaknog yet!” Who knew she could actually learn how to cook? Let alone come up with her cup of holiday cheer. 

“Why not?” Hamish asked.

“Because he doesn’t want to be seen,” her mother tried. 

“Uncle Tuff saw him,” Hamish retorted. 

Her mother rolled her eyes, but her father played along. “Oh, did he?”

“Yes!” Hamish insisted as his grandmother put him down. He bounded over to his grandfather’s chair. “He says he looks like a troll.”

“And what do trolls look like, then?” Astrid’s father humoured him, ruffling Hamish’s auburn hair - as if it wasn’t messy enough already - before lifting him onto his lap, Hamish’s boots landing on his grandpa’s knees. 

“Dunno,” Hamish shrugged, his shoulders moving more than they should.

“Because they aren’t real,” her mother cut in. 

Hamish adamantly shook his head. “Uncle Gobber says they are! They steal socks.”

“And do they have any preference? Red socks, blue socks, brown socks?” her father asked.

Hamish furrowed his brows for a moment, leaving the room simmering with anticipation.

“Left socks,” he finally decided. 

Astrid considered for a moment whether she should enlighten Hamish about how Gobber didn’t have a left foot, but since her mother also simply shook her head, she decided they could do with a little less Hofferson-realism for the day. 

“I looked for them with Grandpa Stoick!” Hamish continued. 

That was news to her. “Didn’t Grandpa Stoick take you fishing?” Stoick had needed the break after Black Plague Friday - they all did - and had been kind enough to take Hamish with him upstream. 

“Fishing’s boring,” Hamish stated, as if the food he was served every day simply appeared out of thin air. She could agree with the sentiment though. The amount of time she could save if she still had Stormfly… 

But that was something she could only dream of. 

While Hamish started to ramble about his latest adventures, she redirected her attention to the large pot in front of her, noting that the yaknog had thickened enough, but was still bubbling slightly. Meaning it was absolutely perfect.

“Hamish,” she called, prompting the excitable ball of fluff to look up at her. “Do you want to help me hand out some yaknog outside?”

Hamish’s face lit up with a bright smile, and he nodded. “Yes!”

“Go get your clothes, then,” she ordered. Hamish instantly jumped off his grandfather’s lap and ran to the bedroom. 

Her mother took the ladle from her, filling the mugs Astrid had borrowed from the Great Hall while Astrid held them up and arranged all but five of them on her favourite festive shield. From the corner of her eye, she spotted a pile of clothes waddling back out of her parents’ bedroom, unable to see where it was going. 

She put the tray of yaknog down on the table, shaking her head and picking her favourite bundle of furs up from the floor, separating him from his outdoor clothes and putting them both on a chair. Hamish was surprisingly compliant, only swinging his legs back and forth while she bound a festive red scarf the same colour as his tunic around his head and pulled a dark green knit cap over his ears, his unruly auburn hair sticking out at the bottom. She wrapped him up in his fur coat and a pair of mittens and pulled on his outfit until she was sure there were no more gaps through which he could get cold. 

She dressed herself and handed Hamish one of the mugs after he jumped off the chair. “Be careful, it’s hot, okay? Keep it in both of your hands and watch your feet.”

Hamish nodded as well as his scarf allowed him too, staring at his mug like a mother dragon at her favourite hatchling. “Yes Mummy!”

She pulled up the hood she’d now owned for almost four years and took the tray from the table before turning to her parents. “If it goes as fast as last year, we won’t be long. If you need us, I don’t think we’ll head outside of the village centre.”

“Take as long as you need, dear,” her mother reassured her, taking care of the now-empty pot. “We’ve got all day.”

“Just don’t be surprised if we finish our mugs before you get back!” her father added, standing up to open the door, and her mother nodded along with the kind of enthusiasm rarely seen from Sigrid Hofferson. 

Astrid grinned. “I would be disappointed if you didn’t!”

She shivered for a moment when they stepped outside, figuring that this was the kind of cold no one ever really got used to. But experience had taught her that if you simply sucked it up and endured for long enough, it wasn’t quite so bad. 

They walked through the village centre, its streets busy with celebrating Berkians despite the light snow, and handed out mugs of warm yaknog to anyone who liked to have some. She’d expected Hamish to bound off to jump into one of the piles of snow as soon as he could, but to her surprise he actually stayed at her side, eagerly taking a new mug from her tray after he’d managed to charm someone into accepting the one he had. 

Astrid knew all too well how hard it was to say no to his big, green eyes. She’d thought Toothless begging for fish was the worst she’d have to deal with in her life, but Hamish had quickly proven her wrong. She was starting to get better at saying ‘no’ however. She didn’t want to end up like Snotlout after all. Little Solveig had managed to completely wrap her father around her finger and leave Ruffnut to do the actual parenting. In her own Thorston way. 

Somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered what kind of parent Hiccup would be around Snoggletog. He’d probably be up all night, last-minute trying to finish the perfect gift, all exhaustion fading away when Hamish found it the following day, his face lighting up with the kind of beaming smile that was unique to their son.

She silently scolded herself. She shouldn’t think about things like that. Especially not today. 

By the time they reached the village square, the Snoggletog Tree proudly standing in the middle of it, they had already handed out half of the mugs, Hamish’s sales technique surprisingly effective. Most Berkians took the beverage back home with them, telling her they’d rather take their time and enjoy it by the fire. She felt it was a compliment - at least they didn’t jug it down the way they did with mead. They actually made an effort to enjoy it. 

And they no longer scowled at her the way they had the first year she’d been back on Berk. 

She’d missed the first Snoggletog after the Phantom had left Berk. She’d been out looking for Hiccup, desperately hoping she could tell him he was going to be a father. But she hadn’t been lucky enough to succeed. And when she returned she had to deal with a village that scowled at her when her pregnancy became more visible and she could no longer hide her growing belly with loose-fitting shirts and dresses. 

She could take the stares, she could deal with the disapproval. But she didn’t want Hamish to be a victim of her bad decisions more than he already was. She wanted him to have a normal childhood to the extent that he could. So she did whatever she could to help out the village, in spite of the judgement she received. Serving everyone yaknog was just one of the things she did, and judging by people’s reactions and how, as they reached the village square, none of the parents complained when Hamish instantly rushed off to play with their kids, it had worked. 

She briefly chatted with Gobber after she’d run out of yaknog, listening to his lecture on all the ‘grand surprises’ he’d cooked up for the feast tonight. That kind of defeated the point of it being a surprise, but his descriptions made her mouth water enough for her not to mind. 

She caught up with Heather and Fishlegs, who really seemed to be regretting setting their sights on a Spring wedding. Even though Heather had practically been living with Fishlegs ever since she’d moved to Berk, there were a lot more eyes on them now that they were properly engaged. Meaning that they’d lost a part of their freedom and were expected to stick to the tradition of staying celibate until they were properly married. Heather was one of the only people who dared to - and was allowed to - joke that perhaps, Astrid and Hiccup should have been a little more ‘traditional’ as well. Which was ironically illustrated by Astrid spotting Hamish in the corner of her eye, starting to scale up the Snoggletog Tree, and her having to rush over to pluck him off it. 

He could climb just fine, his mittens not limiting him at all. Getting down was the problem. She feared he would break one, if not both, of his legs one of these days. As Stoick put it, the boy suffered from a heart-stopping combination of Astrid’s athletic intuition, Hiccup’s curiosity and, of course, his lack of danger assessment. 

She supposed one of the upsides of dragons hardly being seen these days was that Hamish couldn’t jump off the back of one. Because he definitely would. 

She had to tug Hamish back by his coat a few more times while hearing Tuffnut out about all the ‘absolutely wicked’ stuff he’d treated himself with in this year’s Black Plague Friday sales. Her son finally seemed to lose interest when Ruffnut and Snotlout came over with Solveig proudly cradling an over-sized stuffed rabbit to her chest. As if the girl didn’t own enough stuffed animals yet.

“Looks like someone’s spine tragically broke on Black Plague Friday,” she teased, grinning as Hamish immediately started curiously poking the rabbit. “How Gothi manages to patch you back up again every time is beyond me.”

Snotlout only managed to muster up a guilty smile in response, prompting Ruffnut to roll her eyes and lightly slap his biceps. “I told him before they went out! She has enough toys already, and it’s not like she’s not getting anything new today.”

“She’s my little princess, okay!” Snotlout offered, putting up both of his hands. “Whatever she wants, she gets.”

Ruffnut audibly sighed. “Even princesses have to learn how to share.”

“Exactly!” Tuffnut nodded. “Ruffnut and I had to share every present we got!”

“You did not!” Snotlout rebuked. 

“Oh yes, we did! Every sword -”

“I know you’re pulling my leg, Tuff.”

“- every axe -”

“I’ve been married to a Thorston for over four years, I can smell your family’s shit by now!” Snotlout cut in, while Ruffnut shook her head and mouthed the words he can’t to Astrid.

“Even Macey!” Tuffnut gestured wildly, slicing the air in front of him. “Right through half!”

“Why do I put up with you again?”

“You just don’t know the sorrows of being a true Thorston! You may have married into it, but you’re not really living it.”

“And why do I let you look after my daughter?”

Tuffnut proudly crossed his arms over his chest. “Because I’m the best babysitter on this entire island. That’s why.”

“He is,” Astrid instantly concurred.

“Yup.” Ruffnut clapped her husband’s shoulder, making Snotlout visibly wince. “No argument there, hot stuff.”

“Well now that that’s cleared up -” Tuffnut continued despite Snotlout’s insistent glare. 

“Grandpa!”

Hamish shot right past them, snow flurrying up as he rushed into the wide-spread arms of Stoick the Vast, an unstoppable force tackling an immovable object with a hug. 

“Hamish!”

“That’s my cue,” Astrid smiled, tucking her tray-shield under her arm. “See you tonight.”

The others waved and said their goodbyes as she walked over to Stoick and Hamish, the latter already babbling excitedly. 

“Mama! Grandpa says Odin came with presents!” he smiled.

She exaggeratedly pulled up her eyebrow. “Oh, did he? Then we just missed him!”

Hamish’s face clouded slightly and she smiled at him, poking his cute nose. “But you helped me hand out yaknog to the entire village. So I’m sure Odin’s proud of you.” She kissed his cheek. “I know I am.”

That seemed to put Hamish at ease, his worries soon forgotten as Stoick lifted him up on his shoulders, the view from up high never ceasing to amaze him. She got that. She knew all too well how different the world looked from above. It was something she didn’t simply forget. 

They made their way back to her parents’ house, their mugs of yaknog already empty and Hamish’s completely forgotten when he spotted his helmet by the now low-burning hearth. He surged towards it as soon as Stoick put him down, leaving Astrid to fall to her knees behind him and take off his snow-soaked outer clothes while he dug in. 

Her parents had stuffed Hamish’s helmet, which was still too large and slid over his eyes when he actually wore it, with sweets he liked, along with a small but high-quality wooden sword, Hamish’s initials carved into the hilt. H.H. Like his father, and the ancestors he’d been named after, before him. Just the H for Hofferson instead of the last name he should have had.

She managed to tug Hamish’s coat over his arms just before he started swinging the sword around, clearly already in love with his gift. She shared a look with her parents, taking in their delighted gazes, and smiled back at them, silently thanking them. For more than just today. 

The next present Hamish found was her own; a bundle of papers, bound in brown leather, with a charcoal pencil tucked between the pages. The same kind of booklet as the one Hiccup always carried with him. 

Hamish picked it up with care, feeling the leather beneath his fingers. She wrapped her arms around his middle and pulled him back into her chest, looking over his shoulder and slowly closing her hands around her gift so she could show him the empty pages.

“It’s a notebook,” she explained, taking the pencil and drawing a single line onto the paper to demonstrate. “People write stuff down in it they think is important, or need to remember. Uncle Fishlegs has a lot of them. That’s how he knows so much. And Grandpa Stoick does the same.”

Hamish, eyes filled with wonder, glanced back at Stoick, who nodded along with her story. 

“And Daddy, he…”Don’t talk in past-tense, she reminded herself. “… he does the same. Whenever he sees a new dragon, or finds out something about them he didn’t know yet, he makes notes for himself. Because he’s very smart, but he also forgets things.”

“Like what?”

“Well, you remember what Gronckles eat, right?”

Hamish nodded enthusiastically. “Rocks!”

“Yes, all kinds of rocks. Daddy knew that, and he’d written down how much fish Gronckles could eat too, but he encountered this Gronckle he wanted to befriend. And there weren’t a lot of edible rocks around, so he thought he could feed him fish for this one day. Later that night, Daddy found out that was not a good idea, at all,” she laughed. “Do you know what happens to Gronckles if they eat too much fish?”

Hamish shook his head and she leaned in, whispering in his ear as if she was telling him a secret. “They love the fish. But it makes them fart, a lot.” Hamish started giggling, so she threw in a bit more of her high-quality humour. “It smells really bad. And Daddy had to spend the whole night in a cave with that Gronckle.”

“Poor Daddy,” Hamish chuckled.

“Yeah, your Dad’s a bit of a dummy like that sometimes,” she smiled, hugging Hamish closer. If only those had been the worst mistakes Hiccup had made. 

“But what he also does, is drawing pictures,” she continued, more seriously. “It’s Daddy’s Book of Dragons after all, that we have at home. The one I read you from, with all the dragon drawings you love. Daddy didn’t just write the words, he drew all of the dragons too. And he has many more sketches, especially of Toothless.”

“Whoa,” Hamish gaped.

“It’s pretty cool, right?” She nodded against Hamish’s shoulder. “And now you and I can draw together too.” 

Hamish clapped his hands in excitement. “And show Daddy and Toothless when they’re home!”

She could feel the eyes of the other adults in the room on her. Concerned, as if she didn’t have to deal with this every day. As if by now, she hadn’t gotten used to telling half-truths to the person she loved most in the entire world. 

She simply closed the sketchbook and cuddled Hamish as tightly as she could. “Of course. They’ll love them. Toothless knows talent when he sees it.”

“Toothless is smart.”

“Oh, absolutely,” she concurred. “Smartest dragon I ever met. He draws too, but he can’t hold a pencil with his claws, so he draws in the sand with his tail and a stick.”

“I love sticks!”

She smiled to herself, shaking her head. If only life was always so simple. “So what do we say now? Who do we thank for the gifts?”

“Odin.”

“So we say…?” she continued when Hamish looked up at her. “Than…”

“Thank you, Odin!” Hamish completed, before looking back at his grandparents. “Did you see him?”

Her father shook her head. “No. We were upstairs. He must have sneaked in through the chimney!”

Hamish looked up in wonder, and Astrid just knew he was trying to figure out if he’d fit through the chimney himself. She was sure he did, and that she would have to watch him even more closely in the coming days. 

“But I do think we heard something in the bedroom while we were there, didn’t we?” her father continued, looking at her mother, who nodded along but stayed silent. “Shall we take a look?”

Hamish nodded in excitement, his other presents temporarily forgotten as he jumped to his feet and let Grandpa Arne lead him into the bedroom. Astrid heard his delighted squeal not much later, which she knew had been in reaction to a rocking horse that’d been made to look like a dragon, even with a small set of wings. Stoick had put more time and effort into it than his duties allowed for. But he’d reassured her that he wouldn’t have had it any other way. 

Spoiling Hamish was the only way he could try to repay the debt he felt he had towards Hiccup, after all.

“Arne and I play along, Chief,” her mother remarked, all too aware Hamish was out of earshot and preoccupied. “But I do want to make it clear that I don’t approve.”

“I know, Sigrid,” Stoick simply said. 

Her mother pursed her lips, clearly not getting the answer she was looking for. 

“Mom, do we really have to do this today?” Astrid tried. “Again?”

“If not today, then when?” her mother argued. 

“I don’t know, I don’t think it’s a problem to begin with, so I don’t see why we need to have this discussion. As if we’ve never had it before.”

“Both of you -” Her mother gestured to her and Stoick. “- can see how dangerously much he resembles Hiccup. He’s already obsessed with dragons, and you’re only feeding it further with your stories and these kind of presents.”

“Being like Hiccup isn’t dangerous,” Stoick countered.

“A lot of the village disagrees,” her mother threw back.

“And they’re part of the reason he became dangerous,” Astrid hissed. “And what else would you have me do? Just not mention his father? Hamish is smart, he’d start asking questions eventually. I’d rather be ahead of him.”

“You could’ve told him his father’s dead,” her mother bluntly said. “It wouldn’t be an exception for a Berkian kid.”

“Hiccup’s not dead,” Stoick cut in before Astrid could, the room cooling down due to the iciness hardly ever heard in Stoick the Vast’s voice. 

It left her mother completely unfazed. “Chief, we haven’t received a sign of life from your son in over a year.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s dead,” Astrid snapped. Sure, there had been obvious signals that Hiccup was still alive, in the first few years… A ripped out eye-ball or two, a severed piece of skin, all belonging to the Red Death and delivered to Berk overnight to make a point. Brought here by dragons, she presumed. She didn’t want to believe that Hiccup had been on Berk himself without checking in on her. And on the son he didn’t know he had. 

“I’m just afraid you’re setting him up for disappointment,” her mother said, more silently now. “We can’t keep pretending Hiccup will come back for the rest of his life while he doesn’t. Like you said, Hamish is smart.”

“We’ll fight that dragon when it rears its ugly head,” Stoick decided, sounding more like the Chief of Berk, and less like family. It was the way their arguments always ended. 

Astrid got up from the floor, wiping some of her hair out of her face and looking at her mother. “I can’t just forget about him, or his dream. Our dream.” A world safe enough for dragons. “I’m not going to raise another Berkian dragon killer, that’s not how this works, that’s not what Hiccup would want, and neither do I. I know it’s overly sentimental, I know it doesn’t necessarily make sense, but…” 

She fisted one of her hands in her skirt, averting her gaze. “It’s just not that simple. Of course I wish Hiccup were here, especially this time of year. Snotlout and Ruffnut get to spend all day with Solveig, even Spitelout being slightly tolerable for the occasion, and meanwhile I’m here pretending Hiccup cares about Hamish as much as all of us.”

She bit her lip, wiping her eyes. “It’s not fair. None of it is.” She stared into the fire so she wouldn’t glare at the woman who’d raised her and who she’d relied on so much the past four years. “And you don’t need to enlighten me on how it was Hiccup’s own choices, and mine, that got us here. I know that. Better than anyone else.” She shook her head. “But there’s nothing I can do about it. I tried. I’m still trying, every single day.”

It was becoming less difficult. Slightly. But she doubted the pain would ever really go away. 

She felt a large hand on her shoulder, undoubtedly Stoick’s, and leaned into his comforting touch. “We all know what it’s like to miss someone you love this time of year,” he softly said. She knew he wasn’t just talking about Hiccup. Stoick had lost more friends and family than she could imagine. “But the only thing we can do when they can’t be here for the holiday, is celebrate them. It’s what they’d want us to do.”

She could only agree with that. And when Hamish burst back in, dragging his newest toy out of the bedroom and proudly showing it to everyone, her mother resigned herself to it as well. It was their burden to bear, after all, not Hamish’s.

Her son was simply happy, his bright and bubbly smile lighting up the room. And that was all that really mattered. 

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

Gobber most certainly hadn’t lied about all the effort he’d put into the Snoggletog feast. He had practised absolutely zero self-constraint, and as a result, this was easily the best year yet. Roasts, stews, vegetables from the lands they had finally been able to cultivate now that the dragons didn’t destroy their fields at least once a month. And the bread, Gods, the bread… She had to get the recipe. It was criminally delicious. 

Astrid couldn’t remember the last time she had been this full. And none of this, a feast this grand and lavish, would have been possible if it hadn’t been for Hiccup and his efforts to keep the Red Death occupied. 

Not that anyone felt the need to thank him for that. Hiccup wasn’t publicly mentioned in general, his existence ignored, the truth about the Phantom and the accompanying question of who would succeed Stoick as Chief too sensitive to casually discuss. But they knew as well as she did who was responsible for Berk’s newfound prosperity. She could tell by the looks the villagers gave her, and her son. 

All of it went over Hamish’s head, of course, who was completely unaware of how many people kept an eye on him as Tuffnut tried to teach him and Solveig how to dance. Not far away from them, Heather and Fishlegs set a good example - they hadn’t missed an occasion to dance since that very first time, when Hiccup had paired them up at Snotlout and Ruffnut’s wedding. Looking towards the other side of the dance floor, she spotted Spitelout, who was watching  his granddaughter with obvious dismay. 

She smirked and shook her head. How petty, being grumpy over two toddlers. It wasn’t as if they were getting married. Now that would be a disaster. A Jorgenson and a Hofferson. Right. 

“Enjoying the view?” Ruffnut quipped, sitting down next to her on her bench and leaning back against the table, a mug in her hand. 

“Well, they do look adorable, don’t you think? Better than them starting to pull on each other’s hair again.”

“Tuffnut’s surely got a way with them,” Ruffnut nodded. “But I was actually talking about the look you were giving my lovely father-in-law.”

She snickered. “He hasn’t grown on you yet either?”

“Oh, he has. Like a splinter in my spleen, slowly forcing its way in and festering until it smells and hurts so bad you’d rather drive a knife through your chest.” Ruffnut took a gulp of her hot yak milk. “But, speaking of parasites and things I should probably see Gothi for…” Astrid pulled up an eyebrow, but Ruffnut didn’t look at her. “That disgusting herbal tea they say is the solution to all our problems? Not always effective.”

“Well, yeah,” Astrid grinned, gesturing to the dance floor. “Forget to take it one morning and you’ve got yourself an adorable mini-Hiccup.”

“I did take it every day.”

Astrid gaped at Ruffnut. “You mean...?” She glanced at her mug of mead before Ruffnut answered, figuring she’d had too much. Sober Astrid would have caught on to that immediately. "And you mentioning Solveig having to learn how to share earlier today…?" 

“Yep,” Ruffnut answered, making the ‘p’ pop. “Sol’s getting a sibling this Summer.”

“Whoa, I mean…” she blinked, trying to come up with an appropriate response.

Oh Gods. 

She shook her head, snapping herself out of the hint of panic simmering beneath her skin. “Congratulations!”

Ruffnut just nodded, looking away. “I suppose so.”

“You’re not happy?” she asked, trying not to let on that she herself also had strongly mixed feelings.

“I mean, I’m not unhappy, I love Solveig, but it’s just…” Ruffnut sighed. “Complicated.”

“Does Spitelout know yet?”

“No.” Ruffnut shook her head. “Just Tuff, my mom and Snot. But I don’t think Snot can keep it a secret for much longer, he’s too excited. So we’ll probably tell his dad tonight. And I’d rather you hear it from me than any of Spitelout’s gossipping friends.”

“Thank you,” she said, from the depths of her heart. “I really appreciate that.”

“It’s nothing,” Ruffnut shrugged, followed up by a grin. “Gives me someone to complain to when Spite starts digging up every folk tale telling desperate men how to make sure their women give birth to a boy.”

She snorted. “You don’t want a mini-Snotlout?”

“I don’t want a mini-Spitelout,” Ruffnut corrected her. “And I’m sure Snotlout would be perfectly happy with a whole horde of girls to spoil.”

“Until they start dating,” she joked, hoping she didn’t sound too relieved by Ruffnut’s preferences.

“At least the chaos won’t be mine, for once,” Ruffnut smirked. “I can’t wait.”

She scoffed. “Never a dull day on Berk, huh?”

“Don’t even need a Phantom to stay entertained,” Ruffnut remarked, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “Although that human disaster of yours was easier to deal with, in a way.”

“Maybe,” she murmured, the both of them glancing at Hamish, Solveig and Spitelout. 

“You know, Astrid?” Ruffnut’s voice dropped, only audible to the two of them and surprisingly serious. 

“Hm?”

“I think I’d like Hiccup to come back too.”

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

Hiccup was even further away from Berk than usual. He didn’t necessarily hate that, but to say he was happy would be a severe overstatement. 

Then again, happiness wasn’t one of the things he deserved to get for Snoggletog this year. 

He took out his sketchbook and sat down, Toothless lying down next to him and Stormfly standing guard at the other end of the island. He searched for one of the rare empty pages and glanced up, placing his pencil on the paper and outlining what he saw in front of him. 

The Rookery was a busy place on Snoggletog Day. It was filled to the brim with all kinds of dragons, some of which he recognised from his army, others from the Red Death’s nest. But the dragons didn’t seem to mind meeting their enemies here. Today, they were all equal, tending to their new hatchlings with unconditional love and care. It was as beautiful as it was frustrating. 

He’d prefer to be back on the Red Death’s island and continue the fight. His efforts had been stalling for a while now, the Dragon Queen preferring to keep her head down in the heat where he couldn’t reach her. But if she kept that up, she’d starve sometime soon. There was no other logical option. He just didn’t know how much longer she would take.

What he did know was that being at the Nest wouldn’t yield him anything. He needed his other dragons to make a real impact, so he might as well watch over them and their babies for the time being. Perhaps he could intercept a few of the others on the way back, earn their trust to the point that they would join him instead of returning to serve the Red Death. Then at least it hadn’t been a complete waste of time. 

He knew he didn’t need to be here. In all the years he’d guarded the Rookery, there hadn’t been a single Viking ship in its vicinity. He was the only one who knew where this island was. He could go wherever, to the Northern Markets to fix up his armour, to Berserker Island to take stock of Dagur’s degree of insanity during the holiday season… To Berk, just to give them a sign he was still alive. A Snoggletog surprise.

He snickered to himself as he heard another Gronckle egg explode in the background, an idea popping up in his head. Dragon eggs, on Berk, a ribbon tied around them. Looking perfectly innocent until they exploded. Letting him be a menace even though he wasn’t anywhere near Berk. For entertainment’s sake, this time.

“Nah,” he decided. “It’s a good thing those hatch far away from Vikings. Should probably keep it that way.”

As much as he tried to be a changed man, to think differently, to not get stuck in the negative spiral that had landed him in this spot in the first place… He wasn’t a huge fan of the idea of letting adorable baby dragons anywhere near Vikings either. 

Instead he eased his boredom by continuing his sketch, capturing the Rookery’s bright beaches and many dragons as well as he could with charcoal alone. It was certainly one of the most beautiful islands in the Archipelago, and hard to properly translate to paper.  Still, he didn’t think he was doing too badly. Toothless agreed, warbling his approval when Hiccup showed the sketch to him. 

He considered finding a Terrible Terror and sending it to Berk with the sketch. A Snoggletog present for Astrid, like the figurine of Toothless he’d given her five years prior. He’d told her about the Rookery, and she’d wanted to see it, but had never taken her there because it was almost a day’s flight away from Phantom Island. They’d both figured there would be a time for that. They’d both assumed he wouldn’t screw things up this badly. 

This could be a way to make it up to her.

But he shouldn’t. He couldn’t contact her. He wasn’t allowed to. He hadn’t earned the right to interrupt whatever she’d built for himself after he’d left. Not yet. For all he knew she was living her life happily without him. Alone, or with a man who was better for her than he ever could be. 

He didn’t know. He had no idea, it was completely out of his hands. He didn’t have a sliver of control over it. And that sense of incompetence, that loss of power, was eating away at him, making his heart ache. 

He missed her. He missed her so much. 

Finishing his sketch, he made a promise to himself. He would kill the Red Death before the next winter. By next Snoggletog, he would have seen Astrid again. And even if she didn’t want anything to do with him, which he couldn’t blame her for, he would know she was doing fine. 

This would be the last Snoggletog he spent in uncertainty. 

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

It was nearly midnight when Astrid got back to her own home. She silently thanked her parents for agreeing to host Snoggletog at their place this year, so she didn’t have anything to clean up. She could simply carry Hamish, who was half-asleep in her arms, into their bedroom in the back without having to care about anything else. 

“There you go, little Terror,” she smiled as she put him down on their bed, shushing him as she pried his new notebook from his hands. After he’d finished ‘dancing’, they’d worked on it for a while. Hamish couldn’t read yet, let alone write, so she’d helped him sketch out the runes of his name on the first page. He’d continued to test out his pencil for the rest of the night, drawing simple shapes until he’d finally tired and fallen asleep in her lap. 

She struggled to get him to cooperate as she took off his outer clothes, eventually resigning herself to simply tucking him in in the outfit he’d worn today instead of changing him into his nightshirt. She wandered around the house for a bit, making sure they wouldn’t get too cold during the night, before changing into her nightdress herself. 

Hamish stirred when she slipped in next to him, opening his eyes and crawling towards her, murmuring something unintelligible. 

She took him into her arms and sat back against the headrest. “What is it, baby?”

“Thless,” was all she could identify. 

“What?”

Hamish fisted one of his hands in her dress, his green eyes gazing up at her through heavy eyelids. “Toothless.”

“You want Toothless?”

Hamish nodded, and she reached over to her night stand, picking up the wooden Night Fury figurine on top of it. Hamish grabbed it from her as soon as he laid eyes on it, cradling it against his chest. He’d been completely in love with it from when he was a baby.

She hugged Hamish tighter, lightly tapping the figurine’s snout. “Did you know that mini-Toothless was the first Snoggletog present Daddy gave me?” 

And the only one. But Hamish didn’t need to know that.

Hamish’s eyes lit up despite his exhaustion, the way they always did whenever she mentioned Hiccup. Whenever she told him stories about his father, letting him believe Hiccup hadn’t abandoned them but that he cared, that he loved Hamish at least as much as she loved him. That he was simply away to do very important work. To fight an evil dragon and protect all the good ones she told Hamish stories about. 

Hiccup was Hamish’s hero. She had built his image that way. One of an adventurer, an inventor, someone who fought for what he believed was right. All that Hiccup was if she chose to leave out the shadows and the scars. A Hiccup without the Phantom. 

The Hiccup she desperately hoped to see the day he finally came back. Who could, at the very least, be a father to Hamish. If he wanted to. 

Gods, she hoped he wanted to.

“He made it himself,” she explained, trying not to tear up. “Carved it out of wood and painted it to look just like the real Toothless. So that he’d always be with me.” She kissed the top of Hamish’s head. “And with you too, of course. Even when he’s away to fight.”

“Daddy and Toothless have Snoggletog too?”

“Of course,” she lied, because she didn’t know. She had no idea where Hiccup was, or what he was doing. She had no idea if he was alive. She didn’t know anything. 

She kept telling people he would come back. While she wasn’t even sure herself. 

“Odin only visits kids, but Daddy and Toothless celebrate Snoggletog with each other,” she improvised, biting away her tears when Hamish focused his gaze on the figurine in his hands. “They exchange gifts, although Toothless isn’t very good at it. He usually gets Daddy raw fish.”

Hamish giggled, and she went on for a while more about all the different kinds of fish Toothless liked, slowly lowering her voice until her perfect piece of happiness fell back asleep. 

Then, she cried. 

She kept Hamish cradled against her, not because she was afraid he’d wake up. Not because he needed it. But because she did. Because sometimes, she wasn’t as strong and hardened as she wanted to be. Because on days like these, she longed for every possible kind of distraction, to prevent herself from succumbing to the incredible sense of guilt and grief she still hadn’t managed to shake. 

So she wept in silence. She had held out all day, and now allowed herself to have this moment. To imagine that she’d hear three knocks on her roof tonight and that Hiccup would slide in through the window, hugging her and assuring her that from now on, everything would be fine. That Ruffnut’s new pregnancy didn’t matter, because he’d come back. That he was going to fix the mess he’d left behind. That the Phantom was gone, and that he was here for them now. That she no longer had to do it alone.

That he loved them. That’d he’d never leave them again. That he would take care of his son until the day he died. And that he’d do the same for her, finally fulfilling his promise to make her his wife. 

Just for tonight, she could be that naive. She could dream, she could hope. She could let go of what was sensible, and realistic, of all the plans she’d made for when Hiccup did come back. 

And even though she hadn’t asked Odin for a present since she’d been eight, she now found herself whispering her only wish for the Gods to hear. 

“Please bring Hiccup back. And let this be our last Snoggletog without him.”

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

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this little look into the current lives of everyone we came to know in The Phantom of the Arena, and that you all have a very happy holiday period!

I’d like to leave you guys with a bit more concrete information on the sequel I talked about in the author note at the start; I am currently working on writing it, but because I have a busy half a year ahead of me, I first want to have the first act (about 10 chapters) done before I start posting. I hope the posting will start in February at the latest, but I can’t make any promises. For more updated information, you can always look at my Tumblr (aleteia-ff) or join the channel #aleteias-fics on the ATOV Discord Server (link can be found in the description of my Tumblr profile).

I can give you guys the summary as a little teaser, however:

After five years of relentlessly putting up a siege against the Red Death, Hiccup, the former terrorist known as the Phantom of the Arena, has finally defeated the Archipelago's greatest enemy, putting a definitive end to the dragon raids. Hoping the worst is finally behind him, he returns to Berk, only to find he left more behind than just the girl he loved. And that life still isn’t done with him.

Outside of the Archipelago, Eret, son of Eret, is left with nothing after a mysterious dragon rider destroys his fort and releases the captured dragons his employer sorely needed. Fearing he’ll be killed if he doesn’t, he returns to the Archipelago with what little remains, hoping to find employment in the dragon-infested area. But the threat seems to have followed him, as news spreads of how Berk's infamous Phantom has returned to reclaim what's his. And that dragon hunters like Eret will never be safe, unless they act against him. 

Cutting, calling, sticking, sitting, subtitling: Week 15, Spain

With future certainty and concrete plans nowhere in sight, this week’s blog post is in praise of the mundane. Seven days of everyday life.

When prepping for this blog entry, I started panicking. What’s the overarching message? The big-picture mood of the week or the lesson I’ve learnt? Well this week, there isn’t one. It’s been seven days of everyday life and I reckon that’s worth celebrating too.

We’ve been pitching for some exciting work this week.

I can’t talk about the specifics, but it’s heartening to be actually planning and quoting for real-life projects that could bring in real-life money and real-life experience. We pretty much work on Broaden as a full-time venture anyway (regardless of if it makes us money), so when prospective clients reach out to Broaden to ask us to do more of what we love, then that’s a bonus.

I guess that’s the beauty of filmmaking, it’s so broad and its potential is so great that it can be valuable for a whole lot of people. I also think in the coming ‘new normal’ as countries, cities and communities come to adapt life around Covid-19, that the role of video and online streaming will shift, and perhaps become a more central element in our lives.

I’ve also been working away at editing the video we started filming last week about Economics for a more just and equitable world. It’s starting to take shape, though there is a lot of refinement needed (I’ve cut 150 minutes down to 30 minutes but still have a fair way to go!). Working on this video is also bringing about a newfound challenge of how we make videos like this visually stimulating, when they predominantly feature digital interviews and we can’t film footage out and about due to lockdown. It’s forcing us to get more creative with motion graphics, which is no bad thing.

In what is the culmination of a longstanding project, we also interviewed Rich Evans about The Foundations in New South Wales this week.

‘The Foundations’ is a truly extraordinary project/place in Portland, a tiny town about two-hours inland from Sydney. I first discovered the project when I worked in Australia, and the company I worked for, RobertsDay, was involved in a masterplanning process. Portland was established around a cementworks which went on to not only be the driving economic force behind the town, but also the backbone of the community. It was a source of civic pride (cement from Portland famously went to Sydney amid the building boom, coining it the phrase ‘The Town That Built Sydney’), and also helped establish social infrastructure like the swimming pool that is still a celebrated destination in the little town today. Sadly, as the cementworks decreased in scale and eventually closed in the nineties, it had a huge impact on the town.

(images) Scenes from January 2019 when we started filming at The Foundations, Portland NSW.

Back at RobertsDay, I had the pleasure of working on the masterplan and placemaking work for the next chapter of the cementworks, and I immediately fell in love with the place. Not only was it this incredible place of industrial heritage, but the owners actually wanted to transform the site into something really special - a tourist destination, an asset to the community, and a revitalised part of the town. From its current state - fenced-off, closed, and perhaps even an eyesore, the owners wanted to introduce artwork, markets, community gardens, museum collections, fishing and camping, weddings, concerts and a whole host of other things.

It was obvious that there was a story about The Foundations that deserved to be told, and so in January 2019 George and I spent a weekend there, filming local residents, business owners, and the wonderful Rich Evans, ‘Chief Reactivation Officer’ from The Foundations. This was before we’d even launched Broaden, but we were passionate to use filmmaking to document the transformation that was taking place there. However, over the course of 2019, other things took centre stage in our lives and we never got around to editing the final film.

And so, in lockdown here in Spain, we decided it was finally time to close off this story. Just this week,we called Rich over Zoom and asked him all about how things have progressed since we last visited Portland. Rich is a larger-than-life character who had so much good stuff to report (an artist in residence, growing market attendee numbers, new custom-designed public furniture, and the renovation of a central historic building which involved the removal of 1000s of bees!).

In a strange way, I’d originally thought of this hiatus as a weakness for our film, but it now has added another facet to the story: giving Rich a chance to reflect on progress at The Foundations and show viewers how much is possible in the space of a year.

Making collages serves as respite for the mind.

I return to my collage practice as a meditative practice, and a restorative one too. It’s something I do when I want to clear my mind, and use a different part of my brain from the video-editing-zoom-calling-analytical-planning side of my brain.

That said, the last few paper collages I’ve made have felt like a bit of struggle, and I’ve felt rather uninspired. The collages are never meant to be a forced thing, but instead something visceral and playful, but in recent times they’d stopped being that.

Until this week! This week, inspired to make a collage for my mum’s birthday, I started getting my boxes of magazines and compiled sheets out, stuck my ‘Making Collage’ playlist on, and somehow just found my groove. Shapes and forms shouted out to me, and I was more preoccupied with the mood of the pieces than perfection and precision. I was drawn to more ambiguous textures and the way that they could be layered, and what started as one collage ended up being a series of three (the other two of which I’ll later publish this week).

(image) The collage I made for my mum’s birthday, ‘Flirtatious Textures’.

Whilst I’ve feel as though I’ve found my swing with collage-making again (and have been also considering embarking on some critical writing about my creative process using academic texts for reference), this week I had a piece rejected. I’d made it to enter into a competition, and when the rejection email landed in my inbox this week, the usual heart-racing pangs of inadequacy entered my mind. Not only had I lost money on the entry fee, but my work was ‘unwanted’. I’ve spent some time facing those demons these last couple of days and reminding myself that I make my work for ME.

So if that’s the cutting and sticking, and the zoom interviews were the calling, what’s the sitting and subtitling this week’s post refers to?

We’ve been doing a lot of sitting. Sitting and staring, sitting and watching the sun set, sitting and reading books, sitting and checking Instagram, sitting and feeling guilt for sitting, sitting and swatting mosquitoes away (it’s rather hot all of a sudden), sitting and eating crisps, sitting and calling friends, sitting and laughing, smiling, frowning, thinking.

(images, left to right) Everyday scenes from the cottage, cutting and sticking, and a lot of sitting (as demonstrated by George!)

It feels totally bonkers that as we face a global health pandemic, all I’m drawn to do (or able to do) is sit. And George and I have certainly discussed the guilt, lack of motivation, boredom and soul-searching that’s grown (and comes along with sitting!) in recent weeks. I’m not sure if there’s some grand benefit to all this sitting, but it has called for the enjoyment of many a good book, and also a good phonecall.

One of the most joyful moments (spent sitting!) this week was surely the video call I had for my Granny’s 80th birthday, between my mum, my brother, my aunt and my Granny herself. There were laughs and cheers, ridiculous filters used and lots of talk of birthday booze and plentiful cake. But after the call, there were also moments of reflection and of gratitude; that we are able to celebrate together (albeit digitally) for the momentous milestone that is my wonderful Granny’s eightieth birthday, as she sits alone in her house in Scotland, is a blessing. Of course, I would have loved to have seen her in person, but I am so bloody grateful that we can connect to her even if just through the airwaves.

Birthdays in May seem to be a common occurrence in my family, and this week saw my Mum’s birthday too. Again, there was a sense of loss that unsurprisingly, I couldn’t be with her due to coronavirus (a fact made worse by the fact I don’t think I’ve been with my Mum on her birthday for about five years), but we were also able to chat and videocall. And I was also able to go back through my photos, reflecting on wonderful times shared across the years.

(images, left to right) Looking back at memories with mum - as a child in a sling, on our trip to Sri Lanka in 2018, and at the exhibition opening of ‘Talking Sense’ where one of her sculptures was displayed at the Portico Library last year.

Access to computers and the internet, free time to sit and chill, and family who are safe and sound is not a privilege everyone shares. And I am so aware of that.

I continue to think of the inequalities this pandemic is highlighting, and the gaps it is widening. Access to the fundamental elements for a just and equitable life are basic human rights, and yet as BBC newsnight’s Emily Maitlis reminded us, 'The disease is not a great leveller'. If while I’m sitting this week, I can at least read, watch, learn and share ideas about how we can tackle these gaping inequalities, my sitting was perhaps not in vain.

As our fifteenth week on the road drew to a close, and looked ever less like life actually ‘on the road’, I decided to take on the task of subtitling The Hundred Miler.

Initially, the only motivation to create comprehensive subtitles for Broaden’s thirty minute documentary was so that we could enter foreign film fests. And even then, we’d have had it professionally subtitled if we weren’t looking for ways to save money!

And so I naively embarked on what was to become a two-day odyssey involving Artificial Intelligence transcript detection, manually correcting the script, learning about timecodes, downloading .srt files and working to integrate them with YouTube.

The long and short of it is that The Hundred Miler (which also hit a whopping 100,000 views this week) now has complete ‘closed caption’ subtitles which you can use and enjoy on YouTube! But more than that, through conversations with others I realised the importance of subtitles from an accessibility perspective, as a critical tool to help deaf and hard-of-hearing people, as well as those for whom English isn’t their mother tongue. It was a refreshing reminder that we exclude people without meaning to, but that we can also actively include them if we take certain measures.

So that’s it, Week 15 in all its mundane glory. To those of you who are still here, reading my reflections on these strange and tumultuous times, thank you. Maybe this week you’ve been cutting, calling, sticking, sitting and subtitling too, and for that, I salute you. 

Paroxyism (Leon Kennedy X Reader) Report 2

Last Chapter <> Next Chapter

"What?" You asked in shock. "Sir, may I ask why I need to go there? A city that's three and a half hours away, need I remind you?"

You let out a huff in exasperation and leaned forward in the chair.

"I'm fully aware (L/N)," he paused for a moment before looking away from his papers. "We stopped receiving transmissions from the police force there six days ago. Nothing has been heard since then."

Realizing the seriousness of the situation, you shut your mouth. You leaned back. Lieutenant McCord studied your actions before he interlocked his hands.

"Why am I going then? Why not Officer Smith? He's been itching to leave his computer," You state as you raised an eyebrow. It felt weird to refer to your best friend by his last name. You internally shuddered at it.

"As much as he wants to leave, he can't. There has been a recent surge in crime, and we need all officers on hand for unforeseen emergencies. You are the only one who is available for this. We just need to check up on them. Worst case scenario is that all of their power is out."

Your eyes fell to floor. Great. Now you're an errand boy for the state government. Your hands tightened on the ends of the chair's arms. You didn't sign up for this.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes, Lieutenant," you replied.

"Good. Finish your work for today. You are to leave at 0800 hours tomorrow. Once there, report to Chief Irons or Lieutenant Branagh. You are dismissed."

McCord returned to his work immediately. You slowly loosened your grip and stood up. Opening the door, you passed through into the hallway. Letting out a breath of air you were holding, you shut the entrance to the Lieutenant's office. You shuffled back towards the end of the building. Soon enough, you walked pass a familiar work station. As you continued by, you heard the rustle of clothes and movement of a squeaky chair. Stopping, you saw Kyle standing behind you with a concerned look.

"How did it go?" He asked.

You simply gave him a glance in response. This was enough of a reaction to back off.

"I'll talk about it after we're off the clock," you told him, and he nodded his head. "Also, push up your glasses. They're about to fall off your face."

You heard him mutter a thank you as you continued to walk towards the forensics lab. Once in, you dragged a nearby chair to the small desk in the large room. Flicking on the small lamp next to you, you sat down and grabbed blank forensic papers. You grabbed a pen and began to fill it out. Victim's name? Alex Meredith. Age? 27. Sex? Male. Cause of death? Blood loss and shock. This process continued on for a while. Unbeknownst to you, the room slowly got darker as the sun sank below the horizon. Senior scientists would walk in and out of the doors.

Finally glancing at the clock, it read 8:31. Your stomach let out a rumble in protest of your work.  Quickly, you finished the conclusion and looked away from the paper. Your shift had ended at 8. Shuffling the papers together, you rolled over to your boss' desk and set the stack down. You stood up and gave your chair a gently shove. Zipping up your (F/C) hoodie, you paced towards the front door. You gave the officer at receptionist desk a wave. As you walked towards your car, you spotted a figure sitting on the hood of your woody.

"Hello stranger," you joked as you came closer to Kyle. "Scoot."

"Ready to talk?" He asked, one arm on his knee.

"I'm going to Raccoon City tomorrow."

"Seriously?!" He blurted and threw his hands dramatically into the air. Your best friend laid back on the windshield. His arms thrusted out like a starfish's. You tilted your head towards him.

"Trust me. I tried to get you to do it instead, but McCord said no."

"I'm never getting out of the building at this rate," he whined.

"Apparently, we haven't heard anything from them in a week." You glanced up at the stars as the two of you continued to talk.

"Sounds sketchy."

"I know. He tried to say it's probably because the power's down, but there hasn't been any storms near them for the past month."

"Are going to bring anything with you?"

"No clue." A moment of silence passed between the both of you.

"Sorry for making you wait. I got distracted."

"It's okay."

The two of you talked for several for minutes before saying your goodbyes. Jumping into your car, you slipped the keys into the ignition. Turning it, the machine roared into life. Soon, you were driving out of the parking lot to your small apartment.

Tossing the keys onto the countertop, you shuffled towards your bedroom. Your comforter welcomed you with open arms as you flopped face first into the bed. You laid there for several minutes listening to the ticking of a clock. Rolling onto your back, you gazed up at the popcorn ceiling. With a huff you realized you still needed to shower. You hoped off your bed and headed to the bathroom. As you waited for the water to heat up, you stripped yourself of your clothes and brushed your teeth. Spitting out toothpaste, you jumped into the shower. When the hot water hit your back, you let out a sigh of relief. In a way, you were relieved you weren't heading back to the station tomorrow. Even though you've only had your job for a month, it could get very stressful. Once clean, you dried yourself off, put on your pajamas, and rolled back into bed. Checking the time, the alarm clock next to read 10:00. You quickly set you alarm to 7:00 AM. The digital clock beeped in return. Turning the bedroom light off, you drifted into sleep.

Nine hours later, you were walking around your apartment. Taking one last glance in the mirror, you analyzed your outfit of a simple grey T-shirt tucked into high-waisted jeans. You wore back lace-up boots and a deep navy blue sweatshirt. Your (H/C) hair was tied into a classic ponytail. Several loose strands fell to compliment your facial structure. Remembering the conversation you had with Kyle, you furrowed your eyebrows in thought. You came down to the final decision of being safe rather than sorry. Walking towards your closet, you pulled out a thin, flexible utility belt and attached it around your waist. Turning towards your nightstand, you grabbed the flashlight from the drawer and attached it. You walked back towards the kitchen and placed your hand under the small table. The sound of duck tape ripping echoed throughout the room. Pulling your hand out, you saw a small handgun. You tucked it into its holster and grabbed an extra magazine.  For an extra precaution you grabbed a small first aid kit and shoved it into the large pocket of the belt. Finally, you clipped you police badge onto it.

Checking the time, you saw it was only 7:38. You grabbed the landline, and you called the police station. After reporting to an officer, you ended the call. Grabbing your car keys and a muffin, you headed down to parking lot. Once inside, you took a bite out of your breakfast. You pulled at your seatbelt as you began to pull out. Your journey to this mysterious city was about to begin.

A couple of hours into the ride, and you were already bored out of your mind. Several farms and gas stations passed by you every now and then. You tried to keep your mind occupied by playing the license plate game and punch buggy by yourself (which was pretty stupid). Eventually, you lost count though. You were soon pulled away from you thoughts as you saw a lone figure standing in the middle of the interstate in the distance. Slowing your car down, you came to a stop several yards in front of the person. You could clearly identify the individual as a female. Pressing on the horn, she gave no response as she continued to face away from you. Your window rolled down partially as you tried to catch her attention, but nothing seemed to work. Putting your woody into park, you got out. You pulled your handgun out and turned off the safety.

"Ma'am! State police! You are blocking the road and may be subjugated to an arrest if you do not move," you yelled out in your best policeman impression. If only Kyle could see you now.

This seemed to catch the woman's attention as she slowly turned towards you. Her appearance caught you completely off guard. Blood littered her face and body as her jaw swung from several strands of tissue. Her left eye dangled from its socket. It was here that you began to notice the grotesque smell of rotting flesh.

"What the fuck!" You exclaimed.

Within seconds the creature lunged at you with an inhumane speed. You fell backwards as she forced herself onto of you.  Your arms did their best at holding her back as she tried to bite you. A large drop of bloody saliva dropped onto your check as you struggled.

"Shit!"

With a large shove you pushed the zombie off of you. However, it merely stumbled back several steps. You quickly aimed your gun at its shoulder and shot. The monster kept moving as though the bullet didn't affect it. This time you aimed at the head. Two shots pierced the air. The zombie finally stopped in its tracks and crumpled to the ground. You attempted to slow down your panicked breathing, but it was no use. Soon you heard sounds of more monstrous groaning. Not wanting to see what else was coming, you scrambled to your feet. You sprinted back to your car and slammed the door shut. Not bothering to buckle yourself, you shoved your gun back into its holster and put the pedal to the medal.

As you speed down the road, thoughts raced through your mind. Up ahead a large green sign stuck out from the background. WELCOME TO RACCOON CITY HOME OF UMBRELLA. As you continued, more of those things began to appear. Adrenaline rushed through your veins. You swerved several times to avoid being attacked. As soon as you entered the city, hoards of the monsters appeared. The place was in flames. With the speed you were going at, you had no choice but to ram through them. You soon felt you car began to cave in on itself and began to roll. You were thrown around like a piece of trash.

The car came to slamming halt as you fell onto the ceiling. You let out a groan of pain as you shakily tried to exit the car. The groaning sound of it pushed you to move faster. Crawling through the shattered window, several pieces of broken glass dug into your skin. You squinted in pain. Finally, you made of the car and quickly turned onto your back with your gun in your dominant hand. You scooted away as a large bust of flames erupted from the machine you were once in. Standing up, you noticed that most of zombies had spread out to avoid being caught of fire. You swiftly saw that you were a street over from the RPD and hurried to a nearby alleyway. You grabbed your side in agony as you hastily rushed through.

Turning up on the other side, you noticed a boat load of cars crammed together. It's like everybody dropped everything and rushed to the police station. Several yards away, you saw an entrance to it and rushed over. You narrowly dodged several zombies as you ran pass the flaming bus. Pushing the gate open a smidge, you squeezed through before shutting it closed. Backing way from the fence, you were finally able to catch your breath. Several zombies stumbled to the gate and scratched at the air. They seemed to loose interest rather quickly. Thank god the gate was heavy. Turning away, you walked up the stairs. You pushed the entrance doors open and softly closed them behind you. Before you could admire the place, you heard shuffling movements come from behind the large, wooden receptionist desk. Immediately, you pointed you gun at the spot as you continued to hold you side.

"State Police!" You yelled. "Show yourself!"

                                                          ~~~

A/N: Woah! Over 2,000 words you guys! I really hope you enjoyed that! Don't worry! You'll get to met Leon in the next chapter!

New Year’s ‘85

Jim Hopper x Reader

A/N: This is my submission for @moonstruckhargrove 1K Writing challenge. My prompt was “I’m not going anywhere”. 

**I should note, this follows Christmas with Hopper & The Waffle Maker. Though I don’t think its 100% necessary to have read that first.**

Summary: After spending Christmas with Hopper and El, you thought your growing relationship with the Chief was going great, until he shows up late for your New Year’s Eve dinner with a rash of reasons it wouldn’t be good for you to be together. But before the clock strikes twelve, you’re determined to get him to open up tell you why.

Words: 5.8K

Warnings: Slight angst, some fluff, mild language, that’s about it

Forever Tags: @kazosa // @sorenmarie87 //  @lefthologramdeer // @rockyhorrorpictureshowstyle // @his-paradox // @letsby

All errors are mine. Unbeta’d and still new to writing Hopper, so please be gentle.

Since spending Christmas with Hopper and El, you and the Chief had been getting closer. It was slow moving, both of you very tentative in how to approach your growing feelings. Around the station, you both kept things completely professional. Even Finlay, who worked Christmas night, had no idea that you and Hopper were becoming more than colleagues after hours. In fact, only Flo noticed any difference at all.

It was New Year’s Eve and the Hawkins Police Department had been far busier than usual. Finlay and Powell had taken the holiday off, so Officer Callahan and the Chief were the only ones on duty. The drunk and disorderly calls started early in the day, then there were several car accidents after that. As the day drug on, you were certain you’d never get out of there. You were nervously chewing on the end of a pencil when Flo stopped in front of your desk, her glasses hung on by a thread at the end of her nose as she peered down at you with a sly grin.

“Got special plans for tonight?” she asked.

“What? No. Why?”

“You’re watching the clock something fierce today. Far more than usual.”

“Oh, well… I have a roast in the crock pot at home. Just hate to leave that thing going for too long, you know? Fire hazard and all that.”

“Mmhmm,” she mused, her lips pursed in disbelief. “Funny though, Chief was saying he needed to be back by a certain time tonight, too. I could be totally wrong but, I have to ask, any chance that’s due to you somehow? I see how he looks at you when no one is looking at him.”

Your heart stopped for a moment, and instead of immediately denying it, you hesitated which gave her the answer she already knew. Flo leaned further over your desk and lowered her voice. “Well, I won’t pry, but having a nice girl like you in his life would be a good thing. Can you just do me one favor? Be sure to throw a vegetable into that man’s meal once in a while, would ya? He just blows me off when I voice concern over how he takes care of himself.”

You stifled a laugh while nodding. “I’ll do my best.”

She gave you a sly wink before heading off back to her desk. Shaking your head, you returned to the work in front of you. Transcribing police reports and typing them up had become tedious and you were just ready to go home and get cleaned up for your dinner with the boss.

The phone on your desk started ringing, so you pushed the reports aside and answered. “Hawkins Police Department, how can I assist you today?”

“You can start by telling me are still on for dinner,” the Chief’s voice came through the receiver, low and raspy, making your stomach flip flop like it did every time he walked into the room.

“Yes, that’s affirmative,” you replied, trying desperately not to grin like an idiot.

“Good. Because after this day, I want to put my feet up, eat some hot food I didn’t have to microwave and wrap my arms around—No! Dammit… C’mon Callahan! You gotta… no! You gotta cuff him from behind…” He shouted away from the receiver, then growled in frustration before he was talking to you again. “Jesus Christ. I’ll call you right back, ok?”

“Sure thing,” you chuckled and hung up when the line went dead.

He never did get a chance to call back, which was mildly disappointing, but the rest of the day seemed to fly by thanks to the flood of calls that did come in. Each one described in fantastic and varying detail some sort of light in the sky over the site that used to be Hawkins Lab. They were coming in so fast, one after the other, you didn’t even have a chance to dispatch out to Hopper or Callahan before they came back to the station.

The calls finally calmed down about ten minutes before your shift was over, and right before Hopper and Callahan returned with several additions for the drunk tank in tow.

“Its crazy out there today,” he groaned, shaking off the snow that had started to fall. “How’s it been around here?”

“Busy. I was just about to try and get you on the radio. Calls keep coming in about some lights in the sky. People are losing their minds.”

“Lights? What are you talking about?” he asked, taking the slips of paper with the calls on them from you, letting his fingers linger against yours. It was subtle, but it didn’t go unnoticed by you at all. “Like, fireworks? It is New Year’s Eve. I imagine some dumbass kids will try to light some off somewhere.”

“They said it looked like the clouds were on fire over the Hawkins Lab site,” you said, but stopped after you saw the look that registered on his face.

“What did you say?” he retorted in a voice that barely broke a whisper.

“Its right there on the sheets. The last call in said it looked like the clouds were on fire—”

“Over Hawkins Lab?”

“Mhm.” You waited for Callahan to pass behind the Chief after having dumped the drunks in one of the cells and leaned in a little closer. “What’s wrong? You look like you saw a ghost.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he mumbled. “I… I’m gonna check this out. Come here for a minute,” he said and lightly took you by the arm, walking you down the hallway towards the rear exit of the station and out of the back door.

The cold air hit you and immediately made you shiver. Without thinking he took off his blue Sherriff’s jacket and draped it over your shoulders. It was quiet, and the snow was falling softly around you, the only light was coming from the old, yellowed bulb burning over the back door.

“I have to go check this out, but I want you to keep it between us, alright? We’ve had… problems in the past with the Lab and, uh, I just don’t want to freak anyone out. Okay?”

“Yeah, sure Chief, whatever you need.”

“Thanks. And I thought we talked about this Chief crap,” he teased, narrowing his eyes at you.

“We are at work, you never know where there are prying eyes or ears,” you shrugged and thought about Flo spying on you from a window somewhere.

“Well, if there are spies, they are about to get an eyeful,” he teased lowly, and bent down to kiss you lightly on the lips.

Despite the bite in the air, his lips were warm, and you loved how his mustache tickled your face whenever he kissed you.

“You sure that’s a good idea at the station, Chief?”

He rolled his eyes at your use of “Chief” again but bit his lower lip and took both your shoulders in his large, inviting hands.

“I might be late for our dinner,” he said, rubbing your upper arms to dispel the chill.

“That’s ok. Do what you have to. Dinner will keep, I just hope that come midnight…” you trailed off and shrugged, giving him a look of longing to accompany it.

“Come midnight, I was sort of hoping that we’d be doing something else entirely,” he mused and raised a suggestive brow. “But, until then, why don’t you get out of here for the night. I’d rather you be home, safe, before the snow gets bad. El is with Joyce Byers tonight, she’s having some kind of party for the kids, so I’ll come by as soon as I check out these calls, okay?”

“Yeah,” you replied tenderly, “that sounds good to me.”

“Go on, get back inside before you freeze,” he grumbled and directed you back towards the door.

You slipped off his coat and handed it back to him before going back to your desk. “See you before midnight?”

“That is definitely my plan,” he said, and as he put his coat back on, beneath his beard grew the smile of a man who seemed genuinely excited.

“Be careful, please?”

He shook his head slightly at your concern and simply tipped his hat once before turning to leave.

  The pot roast smelled amazing, the potatoes were silky and flavorful, and the handmade biscuits were rising to perfection. It was going to be the best meal you’d ever made, and you were beyond excited to finally have Hopper over at your place for dinner… just the two of you. If he would just get there already. It was getting closer and closer to midnight, and your hopes of a New Year’s Eve date were beginning to fade.

Maybe there had been something going on at the lab site, and he got wrapped up. It had happened before. Sometimes things happened in Hawkins, especially over the last two years and it would be brushed off or explained away, but they were odd happenings; the explanations given for them by the military, even stranger.

Shaking the thoughts away, you didn’t want to start to worry needlessly. You thought of calling the station but calling to randomly ask if the Chief was around may look suspicious, and you didn’t want to stir up any necessary trouble. Pacing the floor, you paused at the phone several times, even picking it up to make sure the dial tone worked.

Nervously chewing on your nails, the clock on your mantel struck eleven, just as a pair of headlights swept across your living room window. Seeing it was the Chief’s truck, you sighed in relief and ran to the door to open it. Even through the snow was still falling, you could see him sitting in the front seat; his head bowed, his hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. Finally, he must have felt your eyes on him, because he picked up his head and slowly made his way out of the truck.

“I’m sorry I’m so late, and didn’t call,” he said once he approached, but made no move to come inside. He seemed off; you couldn’t tell if he was upset or nervous, but either way this wasn’t the same guy that kissed you behind the police station a few hours earlier.

“Its okay, are you alright? Was there something going on at the old lab site?”

He shrugged it off and was struggling with what to say.

“Look, I… I can’t stay after all,” he started, then mumbled a swear under his breath. He wouldn’t meet your eyes either, making your stomach flutter, but not in the way it had earlier when he called you. This wasn’t a good feeling at all.

“Come on inside for a minute, its freezing. Warm up by the fire and you can expl—”

“No, I can’t. I can’t stay. There’s just a lot—(Y/N) getting involved with someone from work…” he trailed off. With his thoughts scattered, his expression and body language screaming of frustration, you had no idea what was going on but you were starting to get mad.

“Why? What’s changed over the last few hours?” you asked, trying not to get too upset or spiral into ranting of your own.

“Nothing. Just thinking…”

“Bullshit. What happened, Jim?!” His head snapped up at your use of his first name, his jaw slacked open in surprise. You crossed your arms over your chest and leaned against the open front door, hoping he would just come inside to talk to you. “Please, just… come inside for a minute at least.”

He growled lowly, the internal argument he was having, clearly written all over his face. “Just for a minute.”

 Once inside, Hopper removed his coat and laid it over the back of the chair. The room was filled with the smell of the fireplace and dinner warming in the oven. You noticed that he picked up on the scent as his eyes drifted towards the entrance of the kitchen.

“So, what happened? When I saw you at the station, things were fine. What happened out at the lab site?”

“Its not about that,” he said unconvincingly. “There’s just a lot that you don’t know. A lot I don’t necessarily want to dredge up…”

You dropped to the couch and sighed. “Please just tell me. Whatever it is--”

“It’s not that simple, (Y/N). Things are okay now, but before, they were very, very complicated. Very NOT okay. Life had just gotten back to normal right before Christmas. Then, you came along and, I didn’t expect or want that.”

You felt a punch to your gut. What happened between you and the Chief on Christmas had felt special, and the way Hopper had kept pursuing you after made you think it was for him, too. And El; at least so you thought. His sudden change in demeanor towards you made you angry and incredibly sad. It was over before it even got started and you felt it was unfair of him, at least without a reasonable explanation.

“Is this about El?” you asked softly, thinking that it must be; because really, what else could it be?

He was quiet. “I don’t know how to answer that. It is, and it isn’t. Look, I told you, its complicated. I won’t burden you—”

“Oh, fuck that, Hop! Why can’t you just say what it really is, huh? Something happened, someone else came along, I don’t know what… but whatever it was in the last five hours that went down, just tell me… you changed your mind and don’t like me that way. Fine. But say so! Don’t try and give me the ‘it’s complicated and I won’t burden you’ bullshit!”

“God… dammnit,” he mumbled and sat next to you on the couch. He took off his Sherrif’s hat and toyed with the brim of it, his head hung to his chest.

“What?”

“I wish it were that simple,” he replied. “The problem here, (Y/N), is that I do like you,” he paused and groaned at his choice of words. “Jesus Christ, you spend a few minutes with teenagers and I start to sound like one,” he mumbled to himself before continuing his thought. “I really like spending time with you and so does the kid. What I meant was, I didn’t want someone in my life. I wasn’t looking for it. El, she was enough. Her and I are trying to find our footing together, as a real family. But you surprised me. Christmas, surprised me.”

“So, then what changed? Please, just tell me,” you leaned over and took the hat from him, leaving it to your side on the couch. You grabbed his hands in yours, though they could barely contain his, and squeezed them.

“If I tell you everything, it could put you in danger somehow.” Hopper dared to catch your gaze, and his normally stoic blue eyes were overcome with worry. “I’d never forgive myself.”

“What danger? Please, don’t make me torture you to extract information. Don’t worry about my safety. I am grown woman who has been taking care of herself since she was sixteen. I can handle whatever you have to throw at me.” Letting go of his hand, you brought your fingers to his cheek and softened your smile. “I like you, Jim. I like El. If it really isn’t a matter of how you feel about me, then please… tell me. I promise you, I’m not going anywhere.”

He searched your face for any trace of a lie. When he found none, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You got any liquor? Beer? Anything? This is going to require a drink.”

“Yeah, sure.”

After grabbing a couple beers from the fridge, you came back into the living room and found him standing by the fireplace. He was looking at the pictures you kept of your family on the mantle, but never saw in person anymore.

“Here,” you said, holding out one of the bottles.

“Where’s your tree?” he asked absently.

“What?”

“Your tree… Christmas decorations. Did you take them down already?”

“No,” you said and took a swig of your bottle. “I didn’t have any up. Not a huge fan of it, to be honest.”

“But, you brought all that stuff to my house…”

“Its different when you have someone to celebrate with, Hopper.”

He registered the flash of emotion that welled in your eyes and seemed to have a moment of realization. He simply nodded in understanding and slowly walked back to the couch.

“I, uh, had a family once. Married--little girl,” he paused, and looked to you as if he hoped you already knew so he wouldn’t have to go through it again.

“I know…Flo told me when I first started at the station,” you spoke softly and cast your eyes to the ground. “I’m so sorry.”

“Then you can imagine when El came into my life, being a dad again wasn’t exactly on my radar. I got real used to being the lonely, grouchy guy. It was hard, not to be that anymore.”

“Sure, that makes sense.”

He guzzled half the bottle and used his tongue to wipe the bit of suds on his lip. “El, isn’t a normal kid. She’s had one hell of a life before she came to live with me. Her parents, well—” he just shook his head and sighed deeply. “She was treated like a lab rat. Experimented on at that fucking place. She grew up there, locked in a room and put through these awful tests…”

His voice caught in his throat as he tried to describe the experiments they had performed on her. He was being slightly vague, and as you sat and listened, disgusted with the procedures and trials that were performed on this beautiful, sweet kid, you wondered what they were trying to achieve. Though, you didn’t dare ask.

“How did she come to be with you? How did you get her away from that?”

“I didn’t really. She ran away, and I found her. I hid her for a while until things settled down,” he said with a shrug. “There’s more, so much more, but… tonight when I went out to the lab, it all sort of came rushing back. Everything she’d gone through—we’d gone through—to get her away from there, to put a normal life back together…”

He was trailing off, not making sense again. Hopper realized you were getting lost in his ramblings and slammed back the rest of his beer. Without saying another word, he got up and went to the fridge, returning with two more beers. He sat back on the couch, this time close enough that your knees were touching.

Hopper opened his drink and held it up to yours, clinking the bottles together just as the clock chimed half past eleven.

“Nothing happened out there tonight. It was what I thought, just some dumb ass teenagers setting off fireworks. But on the way back I got a call on the radio. Joyce needed me to get to her place, because El was having a bad night. After all this time, she still has bad nights. I went there to get her, make sure she was alright. Something triggered her to panic, and when she panics…” he inhaled deeply and slowly shook his head side to side, “it can get dangerous.”

“Is she alright? Where is she now? If she needs you, go. This can wait.”

A hint of a smile was on his lips has he patted your knee in reassurance but left his hand there; not that you minded.

“She’s alright. Once we talked, she decided she wanted to stay. Joyce knows how to help her, how to calm her down if she needs it.”

“Oh,” you said, feeling a slight pang of jealousy. You knew he was close to Joyce Byers, they’d known each other since high school, but that didn’t stop you from being a little envious of her closeness to the Chief.

“(Y/N), I panicked. Being at the lab again, seeing my kid having a hard time… it got to me. It had been calm enough that I sort of forgot, you know? That the threat was there. That it will always be there.”

“Threat? What threat?” you asked, but he didn’t hear you, he just kept talking, but more to himself than to you.”

“The whole drive over here I couldn’t help but worry what you would think or say if I told you everything, would you even believe me? Hell, I barely believed it. But it happened. Then, if I did, what could it do to your life? I won’t fuck up someone else’s life. Not like this.”

“Hey, relax. I still don’t get how it would be dangerous, or affect my life, Hop. I’m trying to understand, I am, but I just don’t see how—”

“Do you remember Bob Newby?” he asked suddenly.

“Um, yeah. I remember the name. He was a townie, right? Worked at the Radio Shack I think.”

“Yeah, him. I knew him from school; grew up with the guy. He was dating Joyce for a while, before he ended up dead in that lab.”

Your heart stopped for a moment. You didn’t remember hearing anything about his death. “Recently?”

“Recent enough, just past Halloween. The papers won’t report it. Certainly, won’t hear about it on the news,” he lowered his voice as if some unknown ears were listening, “but I was there and saw it with my own two eyes, (Y/N). I watched this man, who was there to help his girlfriend and her kid, get torn apart by these things that shouldn’t exist.”

Goosebumps broke out across your arms despite the warmth of the fire burning not even ten feet away. The house was suddenly quiet, only the sound of your shaky breath and the crackle of the fireplace could be heard.

“Wh—what?” your throat was dry, not even the beer helping to rectify that. “What did you say?”

“You heard me. God, it’s a long, long story, but what happened at that lab ended in blood. A lot of blood. The military tried to cover it all up. What happened to Will Byers, and, you remember that funeral for Barbara Holland? She was their victim, too.”

“Jesus,” you whispered. “I had no idea. How—how did they get away with all this?”

“They didn’t really. I don’t know, its all still so unsettled to me. But you can see why telling you, puts you in danger. I don’t want that for you. I don’t want to see someone I care about ripped apart or targeted by some shady ass military just because you’re dumb enough to like me.”

He leaned back against the couch and rubbed his free hand over his face. You weren’t getting the entire story, and you thought maybe it wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell you, but couldn’t. El wasn’t the only one who had suffered trauma, Hopper had too, but a man like him would never admit that. He was the strong one, the Police Chief; the guy you go to with the problems, not the guy WITH the problems.

“Look, I can’t pretend to understand everything. What you’ve told me is incredible and terrifying. You and El, you’ve been through something horrific, the Byers family, too. I heard you were there for them during their ordeal while Will was missing. Then to know it was way more than that… no one should have to deal with that alone. I may not have been there, but I can be here for you, now. You just can’t shut me out or try to push me away.”

Hopper’s hand fell away from his face and he turned to look at you. Inhaling deeply, he placed his beer bottle on the table beside him, then took yours from your hand and added it with his. A moment later, he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you into him.

His embrace felt safe and warm; even with the chill of what he had told you still in your veins, you knew no matter what happened, you’d be safe with him. You felt his lips press against the side of your hair and closed your eyes to revel in the growing magic of his touch.

The clock over the mantle chimed its short alert for a quarter till midnight. “I’ll be so glad when this year is over,” he mused, but you felt him hold you tighter. “I’m sorry that I came here the way I did. I wasn’t sure how you would take any of this. Hell, that’s not even all of it—”

“Jim,” you interrupted and pushed off his chest to sit up straighter on the couch next to him. “Whatever happened, whatever other terrible things happened because of that horrible place, I will listen to and try to process whenever you’re ready to talk about them. But when you want too, doesn’t have to be tonight.”

“You know,” he sat up with a slight groan of weariness, “there’s something about the way you call me Jim… I can’t tell if you want to kiss me or slap me,” he teased.

For the first time that night, you felt a genuine smile grow. “Maybe a bit of both.”

“They’re all in my life now. You get that, right? El, Joyce, Will, even the other kids. What we went through there, that’s never going to leave us.”

“I get that. But do you get that I like you, right? A lot. That day in the market on Christmas Eve when I saw you digging through those waffles… I don’t know, something happened. A flip got switched and I just sorta fell for you. Every day since then I’ve been trying to figure out what was different. What made that day different over any of the others in the few years I’ve known you.”

“Did you ever figure it out?” he asked, an amused grin on his lips and twinkle in his eyes.

“I think so, at least part of it is seeing you with her. Watching and hearing you talk about her, you get this expression on your face that just lights you up. When you were dancing with her on Christmas, spinning her around, I don’t believe I ever enjoyed a moment more in my life than I enjoyed watching that. You’re a special man, Jim Hopper, and I wish you could believe that. I’m not scared of what you told me. I’m only scared you don’t want to at least give this a try. I’m not easily frightened off.”

“That so?” he asked, his demeanor returning more to the Hopper you had gotten to know and not the one that showed up at your house almost an hour ago.

Hopper stood up from the couch and walked over to the radio that sat on top of the television. He scanned the channels until he found a tune he recognized and turned back around. “I Can’t Help Myself” by the Four Tops was playing and Hopper started to dance subtly at first, all the while keeping his gaze on you and a dopy, sort of love-sick smile on his face.

“If this doesn’t scare you away, nothing will,” he teased, then danced your way and grabbed your hand, pulling you off the couch. “Come on, it’s almost midnight and we’ve missed most of our date,” he held out his hand which you happily took and squealed a little as he tugged you into him and holding you tight, so you didn’t fall over.

“Where did you learn moves like that, Hop?”

“Had to figure out someway to impress girls back in the day,” he said with a chuckle.

As he moved you around the room to the song, though you were smiling and laughing with him, you still felt slightly uneasy about how he showed up at your house. What if he would get scared again, but this time it was after you’d really fallen in love with him and with his daughter? You wanted that, you wanted to be apart of their lives and maybe even one day, their family. But the uncertainty and worry clung to you, not allowing you to fully enjoy the moment.

“I’m not some clingy, nervous person, Hopper,” you said unexpectedly. “I’m not someone who needs constant reassurance, normally. I’ve been independent my whole life. When my mother insisted that I get married and start a family instead of having a career, I left home. I never once let my happiness rest on someone else, or in someone else. Understand?”

His eyes narrowed down on you curiously, but he nodded all the same. “I do.”

“Having said that, I have to ask, are you sure I’m what you want? You said you weren’t looking for anyone, you had enough with taking care of El, getting her acclimated to a new life.”

“I wasn’t looking at all. Hell, a new girlfriend wasn’t even on the radar. I hated the idea of coming here to push you away, but its what I scared myself into thinking what was best. I’m glad you called bullshit, that you didn’t give up on me. That’s what I need in my life. Just so happens it comes from a pretty damn beautiful woman, who, for whatever reason, likes me.”

“Just a little,” you teased, holding up your fingers to show an inch.

The song ended and just as the DJ began talking excitedly about the new year. After a minute or two of the DJ’s incessant babbling, the clock began chiming midnight. On the radio, the countdown begun with the sound of a cheering crowd in the distance. In your living room, Chief Jim Hopper of the Hawkins Police Department, took you in both of his arms and slightly dipped you back as your arms hooked up and around his neck.

“Three, two, one…” he rasped with a cheeky smile. “Happy New Year, (Y/N).”

“Happy New Year, Hop,” you replied and didn’t wait for him to kiss you. Bringing your mouth up to his, you nearly melted against him as he instantly parted your lips and engulfed your tongue with his.

The few times you had kissed him since Christmas, none of them felt like this. He was a surprisingly good kisser, that you knew, but you weren’t really prepared for how sexy he could be doing so, nor how this big, grizzly bear of a man could be so gentle at the same time. Not wanting the moment to end, you let yourself get swept up in him, releasing any fears or inhibitions and allowing the Chief to bear down on you, and claim you as his own.

He walked you back towards the couch, never taking his lips off yours. He turned you around, so he fell to the couch with a thud, pulling you down onto his lap. Leaning you back so your head rested on the throw pillow propped up on the arm of the couch, Hopper hovered over you, his intentions clear through the desire you saw in his eyes. You gazed up at him, silently pleading with him to kiss you again, but he just stared at you intently.

“Stay,” you whispered. “Stay the night with me.”

“What would your neighbors think? The Chief’s truck outside your place, all night long?”

You shrugged. “I don’t care if you don’t.”

“Do I look like a man who gives a shit what most of these yahoos think?”

“Nope,” you smiled and kissed him again.

This time, his hand ran roughly down the length of your body, down to your thigh and squeezing tightly. A low rumble emitted from his chest as he considered your offer to stay. “You sure you want me to? It’s a small town, everyone’s gonna know you’re sleeping with the Chief.”

“They probably already think that. I mean, Flo does.”

“No shit,” he laughed. “No wonder she kept winking at me today. I thought maybe she was getting sweet on me after all this time.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, then covered his bearded cheek with your hand. “I’m serious. I want you to stay. I still have dinner in the oven, and I would certainly love to cook you breakfast in the morning.”

You pulled yourself up from laying across his lap and grabbed his hat off the end of the couch, placing it crookedly on your head, tipping it down and giving him your sexiest smile and wink.

“Well, when you put it like that… I think I could stay. Especially if you promise to wear the hat later. Looks damn good on you.”

“Deal. So, that’s a yes?” you asked, just to be sure, so your hopes wouldn’t be dashed again.

“I’d be stupid not too. You sure that you’re ready for all of this,” he motioned vaguely at himself and into the air. “Its gonna come with baggage, late nights, sporadically missed dinners, and a very unique and occasionally moody almost teenage girl. Not to mention, being the Chief’s girlfriend will most likely catch you some grief in town. Those old timers like to talk.”

“Your girlfriend?” your heart started to pound, and your desire to get closer to him as maddening. “Is that what I am now?”

“If you can forget everything I said when I showed up here, yeah. I think I’d like that a lot.” He wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, his fingers pulled up the back of your shirt and rested them on your skin. “Nice way to start off the New Year. And the kid, she’ll be really happy.”

“Will she?” you asked, feeling hopeful that you could become a good friend to his daughter.

“When I stopped at Joyce’s tonight, she asked if I was supposed to see the waffle maker. When I told her yeah, that’s when she decided she wanted to stay at the party. She didn’t want me to miss our date.”

“I might cry,” you chuckled, and swiped at the few stray tears that fell.

“It’s partially what freaked me out. She’s already so attached to you, and honestly, so am I.”

“The feeling’s mutual, for both of you.”

Hopper gripped you tightly and lifted you with him when he stood up from the couch. He picked you up and slung you over his should, making you break out into a fit of laughter.

“What are you doing?!” you squealed and playfully smacked his back to put you down.

“Taking my new girlfriend to bed, that’s what,” he growled and playfully smacked your ass. “It’s a brand-new year, gonna kick 1985 off the right way!”

As he carried you off down the hallway and to your bedroom, neither of you heard the walkie talkie come to life in the pocket of the coat he had left in the living room. The static blared for a second before Callahan’s voice broke through muffled and excited.

“Chief! Chief! You there? I got something you might wanna see!”

Tags are open for any future Hopper fics, just send me an ask if you wanna jump on them!

The Maker’s Ark - Chapter 46

     [This is a chapter from my latest novel, a sequel to The Fall of Doc Future and Skybreaker's Call.  The start is here, and links to my other work here. It can be read on its own, but contains spoilers for those two books.  It is serialized irregularly, interspersed with related short stories and vignettes when I don't have a new chapter ready.  My target posting schedule is something new about every two weeks, a rate I still aspire to return to someday.  Because it's been so long, those reading this as it comes out may wish to refresh their memories with the last chapter that took place on Earth here.]

Previous:  Chapter 45

      A great torrent of snow and ice arced up behind Flicker as she carved her way across Europa.       She skated through a deep mist of leftover atmosphere and escaped ice particles.  Vision was nearly useless for anything but the overlays and updates on her visor.  But she didn't need it.  All obstacles were already gone--powdered, melted, or vaporized during her first visit.  The only directions that mattered were up, down and forward.       The mist flashed to plasma when it hit her damper field, close to her body.  Functional plasma--it helped power the MHD generators in her force field harness.       Curved force field blades stretched out behind her, extending her reach and refining it, letting her slice out vast icy windrows and fling them upward to be scooped up by the portal maw on the ship flying above and behind her.  Mostly.  The leftovers were a problem.  The 99+% efficiency of the scooping process was right on the edge of not good enough.       "Even if the construction goes perfectly."  She remembered saying that, what seemed like ages ago.  Everything she'd done had worked, and she'd stayed within planned parameters--but the project depended on more than just her.       The status on one of the force field modules changed from green to yellow.  That made two.  Four, and she'd need to call for a break to swap them out.  If nothing else went wrong first.  And given the complexity and scale of what they were attempting, that was--       Her visor flashed an alert:  Incoming signal from Diver, the Floater pilot of the gas giant flyer, which was trailing a slipstream to ease the strain on the portal ship.  She was also relaying messages to Flicker as needed; since the flyer was out front, its com unit didn't have to punch through the messy mix of dense cold water and rarefied hot plasma Flicker was plowing up.       "Stop time," Diver sent, along with a more formal signal, a string of emoticons, and a graph indicating that an accumulation of technical problems on the portal ship had reached a safety threshold.       "Got it," Flicker replied, along with a few emoticons of her own, ending with a shrug.  She turned off the force fields, and the vast billowing in her wake started to dissipate.       At least their translation protocols were getting better.  She had names for two of the Floaters now--nicknames and titles came across better than untranslatable personal names.  The pilot was 'Reckless Diver', and Journeyman's recent nemesis, the Floater safety guy, was 'Cheerful Cloud of Warning'.  DASI cautioned they were still missing nuances, but the names worked well enough.       Better than the portal ship at the moment.       As soon as Diver got the signal that her slipstream was no longer needed, she dived and landed.  Quickly.  She was on the ground with the hatch open in under ten seconds--she took pride in not making Flicker wait any longer than she had to.  Diver was heavily biomodded and her ship was built for storm chasing on Jupiter, so rapid deceleration wasn't a problem.  She and Flicker shared an enthusiasm for hypersonic shockwaves and jokes with the punch line 'And then I broke it.'  Flicker liked her.       Diver waved two of her envirosuit's six tentacles as Flicker boarded, then took off again as soon as the hatch closed, sending happy aerodynamic model updates and data mixed with more emoticons.  Flicker waved back then checked in with DASI.  Journeyman was supervising the controlled closing of the portal, and would return to Learning when that was done, leaving the portal ship to Three and her repair bots--who had a bit of work to do.  At least they weren't running low on replacement parts.  Yet.       DASI noted that The Floaters had part of an early warning network up and running, though they weren't ready to say how much warning they thought it would actually give of the Visitors.  There were a lot of difficulties involving time-shifted 'echoes', many of them from Flicker's actions during the fleet battle, but some from as far back as her destruction of the Topaz Realm during her dissociative fugue as Skybreaker.  That was always the challenge with sensitive detectors--separating out what you were looking for from the background noise.       Incoming voice call.   "Hey," said Malk, one of Learning's liaison biogestalts.  "Glad you're on your way back.  Pira and I get worried about your sensory deprivation."       "I'm okay," said Flicker.  "It gave me time to think, and work on my biogestalt exercises.  Those went well, but I need to talk to Learning about some starship stuff that's kind of important.  I figured out the reason I was twitchy when I woke up this morning."       "Anything we can help?"       "Learning probably can.  Last night was the first time I've ever had a full night's sleep far away from any significant mass.  And when I did my morning startup, some checks that have always failed before... didn't.  So a few things switched from cold lockdown to maintenance mode."       "Ooh.  Okay, I just notified the duty Auditor to authorize a new privacy segment.  Learning will be ready."       "Thanks.  This is good news, I think.  At least, good to know about, rather than stay ignorant, but..."  Flicker took a breath before finishing her message.  "My jump drive itches."       *****       "DASI says there is no indication of outside influence," said Sid, Doc's chief of security.  "But she also confirmed, without being specific, that Doc is working on some sort of cognitive or memory problem.  And I have discretion to call on available expert assistance."       "Which would be me," said Yiskah.       "Yes."       Sid looked at her expectantly.  He didn't say 'read my mind', but he was sure thinking it loudly.  They were in the small briefing room next to his duty station.       "Well, you're in luck," she said.  "I was already on my way, but Doc's been unusually concerned about 'side-channel information leakage modes'.  However, we're in a secure area now, so...  DASI?"       "Yes?" came from the wall speaker.       "Is Doc still down in the Dangerous Artifact vaults?"       "Yes.  He visited vault three, and set up a communications relay outside vault one.  He then invoked an interrupt restriction protocol, entered the vault and sealed the door, reactivated the defenses, and opened alcove one of vault one.  That was two hours and forty minutes ago."       Yiskah looked over at Sid, who raised an eyebrow and looked back.       "You have far more experience working with Doc than I do," she said.  "Do you have any personal observations that might be of use for my assessment?"       Sid looked thoughtful.  "The personality shift reports from yesterday worried me.  His actions since, not so much.  The last security update he sent said that he needed to fix something complex, and what he's doing sounds consistent with that.  Dangerous, but consistent.  It is a lot more like his style from back before he adopted Flicker--explain nothing except safety precautions."       Yiskah frowned.  "DASI?  What's in vault one, alcove one?"       "Restricted data," said DASI.  Available description, 'Second-order closed-loop cybernetic control helmet'; Safety note, 'Lethal trap, not Lyapunov stable'."       "Joy," said Yiskah.  "Are you willing to override the locks so I can get in?"       "Unnecessary.  You are already on the exception list.  I will warn him."       "All right," she said, and turned back to Sid.  "I'll handle it, and have DASI keep you updated."

      In the elevator on the way down to the sub-basement, Yiskah contacted Stella Prime.  "Anything to add?" she sent.       "The personality change was a side effect of something he did in order to properly brief Journeyman," replied Prime.  "After Journeyman and Flicker boarded Learning, Doc alerted me that he needed to do some messy memory cleanup and would be unavailable for a while, and he spent last night in an isolation chamber.  I'm more concerned about something else.  He has unreplicated causal loop experience in his head, and judging from what DASI and I are seeing on Earth, we appear to have hit some sort of tipping point or phase change.  It would be useful and timely for Doc to update his loop models.  Get him to explain if possible.  I can't spare the attention right now."       Yiskah frowned.  "That could take a while, and I won't to be able to follow everything."       "DASI will.  And if you mind scan him, he won't gloss over uncertainties.  He has a characteristic reaction to them, he won't be able to hide it from you, and he knows it.  And I have to go--new crisis."       "Understood."       *****       Yiskah let the door close behind her after entering.  She raised an eyebrow, but avoided starting a full mind scan.  The vault was silent except for the faint whisper of a ventilation fan--the impression of rustling echoes was an illusion created by the interaction of her telepathy with the shielding in the walls.  The door to one of the alcoves stood open, and its shelf was empty.       Doc sat in a folding chair with a water bottle beside him.  His usual lab coat was absent; he was dressed as if for strenuous outdoor work, in a t-shirt, many-pocketed jeans, and sneakers, along with his goggles.  And the helmet.       The helmet looked old in the way of futuristic technology from the end of the previous millennium, apart from the small rectangular boxes attached to each side, which looked like a battery pack and a wireless communications module of more recent vintage.       Doc nodded and smiled.  "Hello, Yiskah," he said.       "Hello," she replied.  "I went along with your precautions.  Care to tell me just what is going on?"       "Too much," he said.  "But I'm to the point where you can safely help.  Good to see you."       "You could have called first."       Doc shook his head.  "No point.  I needed to deactivate a personality overlay.  Its security wasn't as aggressive as your mind trap, but it still precluded useful telepathic contact.  And I wasn't going to open the door in the middle of the risky part.  I suppose you'll want to verify identity continuity first?"       "Back up.  Is this overlay gone now?  Will a mind scan cause you any difficulties?"       "It has been deactivated, yes, but I still need to clean up.  And go ahead.  Hazards are marked, and I have the major ones secured, but I'm not done reindexing.  And I'm not apologizing for the mess."       Yiskah moved to stand in front of him, and put a hand on his shoulder before beginning her visualization scan.  One way she could use her telepathy was to give form to a subject's mental organization, analogies, and personal assumptions.  It gave a useful overview and it was fast.  It had arguably helped save Doc's life twice.  She let the images come into focus and fill her perceptions.       The two of them stood inside a large square of chain link fence topped with barbed wire.  It was cluttered with large green boxes, insulators, and heavy cabling of the sort you might see in an electrical substation.  Yellow and black striped tape and orange cones surrounded several boxes, though work appeared to be complete.  The whole station was humming with power.       The entire surrounding landscape looked like a major construction site that had suddenly been converted to storage.  Pallets piled high with... something... were covered with tarps.  Some of them also had hazard tape, shipping tags, or more detailed caution signs on them.  Silent robots steadily moved boxes from one pallet into a freshly built and still unpainted warehouse.  The ground was covered with tread tracks, and a bulldozer and backhoe rested nearby, unmoving for the moment.       Yiskah own perception had an effect on the visual form of the subject's self-image, so she could shape them to pull out psychological nuances.  Doc wouldn't be able to tell what he looked like unless she told him or chose to create a mirror.  The last time she had scanned, he had appeared as a more elderly version of himself, a lab-coated scientist in his late fifties or early sixties.  He had changed.       He stood relaxed, arms at his sides, and smiled crookedly at her.  "Well, how do I look?"       Yiskah narrowed her eyes.  He still looked like himself, but younger, perhaps in his mid-twenties.  His hair was long, pulled back in a queue.  His goggles were absent, and he wore a black t-shirt with an unusual flower and some strange writing on the front.  He seemed poised and confident.  She found his appearance quite encouraging...       ...except for the helmet.       Glowing strands emanated from it all directions, some to the power station boxes, others to faint, force-field-like bubbles over some of the pallets.  Three climbed to the cloudy sky, and one of those strands pulsed steadily with green energy.  The helmet radiated heat, and sweat trickled down Doc's face, unnoticed.  There was a faint smell of smoke and ozone.       Doc should not be that relaxed, not amid these signs of tension and strain.  The wrongness of it grew more jarring every moment.  She took a step back and released the visualization, leaving them facing each other in the vault once more.       "You've got a lot going on in there," she said, "and I have many questions, but that helmet worries me the most.  Are you done using it?  How willing are you to take it off?"       "Not quite done, and very," said Doc.  "No way it's leaving this vault.  But I want to leave it on for a while longer, to damp side effects.  The mood balancer helps with that."       Yiskah breathed in sharply.  "Mood balancer.  Okay, now I understand the 'lethal trap' note."       Doc half-smiled.  "It's definitely not something I'd want to use every day, or outside this vault, but the note was for Flicker; the lack of stability means the helmet would likely kill her in under a second.  And she might otherwise be tempted to try if she knew what it can do."       "It's definitely affecting your judgement right now.  Could you please take it off?  Asking nicely."       "You aren't going to let this go, are you?"       "No," said Yiskah.  "Any reason to stay down here once the helmet is safely locked up again?  Do you need me to take you to the med center?"       "Living quarters will be fine, but if you'll willing to give me another hour, I can--"       "You can have neurological damage.  And your other symptoms will only get worse."       "Yiskah, if I stop damping--  Okay.  I'll grant that it's possible for you to provide the level of support I'll need to keep the next day or so from turning into a cascading disaster when we get hit by another crisis--and we will--but the withdrawal effects will be grueling for me and probably distasteful for you.  I really don't want to be as much of a pain as I'll be if I have to stop now."       "Your rationalization is a thing of beauty and fine craftsmanship," she said.  "But I'm not buying it.  Asking less nicely."       Doc stood, his face now grim, then closed his eyes to commune with the helmet and perhaps DASI.  After a moment he opened his eyes again.       "Ten seconds," he said aloud, and moved to the shelf in the alcove.  Yiskah followed, ready to catch him if he collapsed.       She could feel the wave of anger and other emotions hit Doc's mind as the helmet shut down.  He managed to keep his hands steady as he removed the helmet from his head, placed it on the shelf, and closed the alcove door.  He turned to face her.  "Wonderful," he said.  "Best case now is embarrassing emotional context mistakes, profuse unintentional oversharing, and peevish ranting."       "We can do better than that," she said.  "And I have a handy list of rant topics for you."       Doc made a chopping motion with his hand.  "No point arguing here.  Upstairs."       "Sure, let's go.  Nice evil twin impression, by the way."       Doc winced, and she could sense the beginning of his migraine as the vault door opened.  "Fool," he muttered.       Yiskah laughed.  "Ah, your sense of humor survived.  We'll get you through this."       *****       Safety interlock reverification status:  Verified.       Hazard avoidance priority reverification status:  Verified.       Resuming command sequence from low speed interface buffer.  Inefficient protocol warning.       Subsystem hazard alert notice 0081538621644:  Action--defer.       Subsystem maintenance alert notice 0081538621645:  Action--defer.       Subsystem hazard alert notice 0081538621646:  Action--defer.       ...       Subsystem hazard alert notice 0081538627929:  Action--defer.       Subsystem maintenance alert notice 0081538627930:  Action--defer.       Selected alert notice actions complete.  Returning to configuration lockdown.       Loading test sequence for auxiliary communication using [localization missing] gradient inducer... Done.       Protocol synchronization signal received.  Beginning sequence.       ...       Sequence complete.  Safety and compatibility verified.  Settings saved.  Test session complete.       ...       "Done," said Flicker as she opened her eyes.  She glided to the floor of the maintenance bay, and Learning turned the gravity and lights back on and shut down the scanners.       "Everything's locked down again," she said.  "My jump drive is back on safe, and the deferred messages should only itch when I first wake up.  I didn't want to disable them completely."       "A reasonable compromise," said Learning.  "Maintenance messages, even old ones, from a system as complex as yours are not to be dismissed lightly."       "Yeah," said Flicker.  "The portal gradient detector com channel thing seems to have worked, too.  Your scanner signals got through, and it felt like the protocol got properly set, but I didn't get a good sense of the details.  It's really hard to keep my subconscious from filtering them out.  Did all the keys and checksums match on your end?"       "They did," replied Learning.  "The Floaters will be somewhat relieved."       "I'm relieved, even though it's slow.  Cloud is right; if my visor gets trashed during a space battle, I'll want a better com backup than trying to use a black hole as a signal lantern."       "Indeed.  I am glad your tests were successful."       "I'm starting to find my balance as a starship, but extracting parameters and changing anything safely is still an incredible pain.  Your backup and feedback really made a difference.  I may want to do more tomorrow, depending on how the ice collection goes."       "I will be available.  Is there anything else I can do to ease your acclimatization or otherwise assist you?"       "Well, yes.  There are some starship to human body reflex translation issues I'm going to be working on for a while.  Would it be against procedures or anything if I use the gradient com to call you informally, possibly at odd times?  The low bandwidth isn't a problem at human speeds, and I need the practice."       "I will always be happy to assist," said Learning.  "Fleet support is my primary mission, and I am assigned to liaison duty.  You are the most powerful defender of Earth, so no one can question my duty."  A pause.  "I'd do it anyway; but that means you don't have to worry about getting me into trouble."       "Heh."  Flicker smiled and looked down.  "Thank you, Learning."       Flicker left the bay and returned to the entryway of the small group of compartments she was sharing with Journeyman, DASI's local node, and, in a more abstract way, Three.  She checked in with DASI on the way and frowned.  Status for Journeyman hadn't updated for a while, but they were passengers and guests when off-duty, so DASI was being conservative about following Grs'thnk etiquette on shipboard privacy.       "Hey," said Three from the entry display as Flicker closed the hatch.  "Good job on your snow tossing!  All of today's problems were hardware or at the portal end--or both.  DASI said your exercise metrics looked really good, and the tests when you came back worked out too.  How are you doing?"       "Better than I expected," said Flicker.  "I owe you an apology."       "Me?  For what?"       "Back when you first started talking about Learning?  And how you felt about him?  I was skeptical and kind of dismissive?"       "It's all good, Flicker.  Appreciating him can require a shift in perspective."       "Well, I've made the shift.  Learning and I set up a hierarchy of joint safety reflexes so I don't have to worry about ripping up his interior, burning out anything, or punching a hole in his hull if I have to move in a hurry.  So I can finally relax all the way when I'm on board.  And I've worked with him a bit."       "Nice, isn't he?" said Three.       "Yeah.  But I need some advice.  I noticed something earlier, and I slowed back down just a bit ago to catch up on body chemistry and emotional lag.  It's gotten quite a bit stronger.  I'm having a reaction to him that I'm having trouble sorting out."       "That's not unexpected.  Pleasant or unpleasant reaction?"       "Pleasant but awkward.  You'll probably laugh, because you have your emulators, or whatever you use, and--"       "I won't laugh at you," said Three.  "And if you feel uncomfortable staying on board, the backup for the portal ship is almost here, and has active life support and plenty of room, so--"       "No!  I'm not uncomfortable.  I'm fine with Learning.  More than fine.  I really like the way he interacts with me.  I just started thinking about some things, and..."  Flicker trailed off.       "Well, he does have recreational bioemulator remotes, so if--"       "I know, Pira told me about them.  That's not..."  Flicker looked down.  "I mean, he's a starship.  And so am I.  When we can take some time without being irresponsible, I want to dance with him.  Dive close, mesh my momentum transfer with his grav repellers, and spin around.  Tickle his strain grid sensors with my inertial dampers.  Trace patterns with my energy transfer in his shields, and...  And a hundred other things I haven't thought of yet and I sure there are things he'd think of too.  Play with him.  Laugh with him.  Make jokes about the show we'd be putting on for the other ships.  But he has his crew, so privacy is an issue, and I don't know what restrictions he's under, and what might not translate, and whether this is all too fast, or..."       She looked back up.  "Am I being silly?  And would any of this bother you?"       "No," said Three.  "You aren't.  And you wouldn't bother me.  He's been gently flirting with you for a while now.  What has changed is that you're starting to think of yourself as a starship, so he's a peer instead of a funny alien AI.  And he's well socialized--the Grs'thnk are very careful about that for their ship AIs.  So if you like his style, he's quite attractive."       Three smiled.  "I was already comfortable as a fleet of starships when we first started working together, so I took a shine to him pretty fast.  But he's been 'just a friend' to you before this.  Does what he and I are doing bother you?"       "Oh, no.  I wouldn't even be considering this if you hadn't made me aware that he might enjoy that sort of thing too.  But there's something else.  Learning and I have compatible safety protocols now.  That's..."  Flicker bit her lip.  "I used to have dreams about that."       "Yeah," said Three.  "That would do it."       "So... What should I do?  Should I talk to him about it?"       "You can certainly talk to him.  But there are a couple things to consider.  About the restrictions he's under--you realize that making every reasonable effort to keep you happy is part of his job?"       "Yes, he's been very up front about that.  That's part of not being irresponsible, because it's a power imbalance.  I'd want to spend some time talking to him, and you, before I consider actually doing anything--but not talking about it seems like it would be irresponsible too."       "That's a healthy attitude."  Another smile.  "You're certainly benefiting from our little starship social support group.  Not having one for most of your life was what made you vulnerable to dissociation.  I'd never have pushed dissociation as a temporary solution if I'd known how bad yours still was.  I'm sorry about that."       "Not your fault," said Flicker.  "DASI said that Doc and Journeyman deliberately kept you in the dark.  You were the only one who could push me the right way to uncover the biogestalt problem--but you might not have done it with full information, because it was riskier than you thought.  And involving you directly in any causal loop is really dangerous because of your mind trap."       "It was a humbling experience.  But I'm glad it worked."       "Me too.  Today was much better than most of yesterday--and I'm feeling better than I expected to be able to away from Earth."       "One other thing about Learning," said Three.  "There is a boundary issue.  He's not supposed to have any direct contact with DASI, so he and I have been doing a lot of indirect stuff--some of it diplomatically sensitive.  Don't get me wrong--it's a lot of fun, too.  But some of it's like the kind of things Doc and Jumping Spider used to coordinate when they were spending time together."       "Um," said Flicker.  "I never did get Database access to a lot of that stuff.  So I'm not sure... Oh."       "Yep.  So if Learning changes the subject or makes a joke that doesn't quite answer a question--he usually has a good reason.  Are you willing to accept that?"       "Yeah," said Flicker.  "I should probably start practicing that sort of thing, too.  Because I'm not very good at it yet, and things like whether or when I might be able to make an unassisted jump to Grs'thnk or Xelian space are going to be really important military intelligence.  Whether I want them to be or not."       "An excellent idea.  I can help too, but there's a funny Grs'thnk diplomatic training game for it that I think you'll like.  Learning is great at it.  And picking up the mindset while enjoying yourself should help reduce stress for Journeyman."       "How is Journeyman?" asked Flicker.  "Is he out of the shower yet?  He must have ported back really late."       "He's recovering.  He didn't port back; he took a shuttle, because--"       "He didn't port?  Is he hurt?  What happened?"       "It's all right, he just didn't want to put extra effort into balancing energy and momentum transfer while he was feeling wiped.  Your day went better than expected; his went worse."       "Okay thanks going to go talk to him", said Flicker.  She zipped over to the hatch to the inner compartments and waited impatiently while it opened.       *****       Multitasking.  Yiskah typed up summaries for DASI at the workstation beside Doc's bed, glancing occasionally at updates from Stella Prime and a crisis tracker.  Prime was still in a contentious meeting with representatives of the Kyrjaheim Intervention Cooperative, the organization that a majority of Golden Valkyrie's Choosers had founded to conform to EDU transition guidelines on humanitarian military intervention.  They had already ended a nasty war in East Africa in a single day, which would probably have attracted more attention if it hadn't been the same day the Russians tried to nuke Black Swan.  Other wars were being discussed--whether they were inevitable, how soon they would happen, and what to do about them.  Opinions differed and tempers were short.       Doc was on his back with a damp cloth over his eyes and a med monitor on his wrist.  Painkillers had taken some of the edge off his migraine, but he had agreed to give his visual cortex a rest for a while.  Yiskah projected her presence to him with a light touch, reassuring without being intrusive, while he rambled.       "Breakdown of the default consensus future," he said.  "That's the cause of what DASI and Stella are seeing, and no I don't know how bad it's going to get yet.  It's been building for a while.  There's a public part and an underlying part, and they reinforce each other.  It's not just a result of causal loop pressure.  Looks like the models underestimated the significance of feedback loops involving magicians using social media--those can grow much faster now.  I discussed it with Journeyman just before he left."       "Thoroughly alarming him in the process," said Yiskah.       "He was already thoroughly alarmed.  Sharing his anecdotal data with me probably had a net calming effect, given what else we talked about."       "About that.  You were unwilling to allow DASI to record the conversation, even under fully locked privacy.  Why?"       "We were in the middle of a causal loop, discussing relevant actions.  I wasn't going to involve anyone else.  And there's another, more esoteric reason--compatible past broadening.  If things got dire and he needed to risk a chancy port that might result in a sideways worldline transfer, any allowed point of incompatible history that we both knew about and agreed on beforehand could make it easier for him to pull off.  But if DASI recorded it, that would break a necessary symmetry.  Under one version of my worldline theory, anyway--but it was an easy tradeoff.  He agreed."  A note of humor crept into Doc's voice.  "At least, that's how I remember it."       "Well," said Yiskah, "you believe that, so there's no point in arguing now.  However.  I'd like to know a bit more about the alarming overlay you allegedly deactivated downstairs.  And any other mental work you've done recently.  Your thinking has changed.  For the better, apparently, but..."       "Understandable," said Doc.  "That was my nightmare processing overlay.  It started as a causal-loop-compatible composite of old versions of me from worldlines that managed to contribute to my coherent nightmares.  The Grs'thnk would call it a partial pseudogestalt--they use similar constructions as medical aids in cases of severe neurological or cognitive disruption.  I used it as an interpreter and gatekeeper; it kept triggered-release and age-inappropriate memories inaccessible while preserving the original nightmare data in encrypted form.  It was never intended for use around anyone else, and I haven't used it for a while, for a good reason.       "I updated it as I augmented, so it worked properly with newer memories and nightmares, while remaining compatible with older ones.  I also adapted it to use as a safety backup for other work, such as detecting mental influence.  To deactivate it, I need to pass a few security checks.  This was intended to protect my primary nightmares from exotic forms of tampering or eavesdropping, such as might be employed by an overconfident forensic telepath."       Yiskah raised an eyebrow.  "Was that why you decided I wouldn't be able to help?"       "Not before I was done, yes.  Because back when I woke up from my coma, I discovered I had a small problem.  I could still activate the overlay.  But without my top-level augments, my primary way to deactivate it was gone, and most of my backup methods were unavailable due to side effects from what you and Stella did while saving my life.  Another way required a fresh coherent nightmare--and those stopped around the same time."       "I explored other methods," said Doc.  "Then those triggered-release memories started popping up after I used the pool in Kyrjaheim.  I really needed the overlay to verify I was putting them into the proper context.  And there was one sure way to handle the deactivation problem, but it required extensive preparation and some risk.  I started the preparation, in between working on everything else.  I was almost ready; I was literally seconds away from telling Stella about it when Flicker interrupted.  And then Breakpoint called and there was no more time.  I needed the overlay right away, to pull and interpret some original nightmare memories to help Journeyman."       "And then you were stuck with it for a while."       "Yep."       "So... Why did you need the Helm of Lethal Trap to deactivate it?"       "I didn't.  I needed the helmet to re-augment.  That's what all the prep and most of the time in the vault was for--I did a partial replacement of my top level augments.  I concentrated on the memory management and stability segments, and left out all the speed optimizations, which were by far the most time consuming parts.  And I needed the helmet because that's what I used the first time, and I still had backups of the process memories stored encrypted in a special corner of the Database.  Otherwise it would have taken weeks."       Yiskah smiled wryly.  "So that's what left you with such a memory mess."       "No, the re-augment went fine."  Doc waved an arm.  "And the primary nightmare memories are safely locked away again.  I'm a mess because I haven't reassimilated the secondaries.  A lot of them are emotionally loaded, they've all been recontextualized, and I'm not the same person I was when I first had them, so they don't fit nicely anymore.  I didn't know which ones I'd need, so I had to pull all the ones with Voidsmith, and there were a lot of them."       "Voidsmith?"       "Journeyman.  I warned you about context mistakes.  His name was Voidsmith in many of the nightmares."       "Why were your memories involving Voidsmith so emotionally loaded?"       "He can escape from the end of the world, potentially carrying measure from a dying worldline to one that survives.  That is so important.  I've seen him do it in half a dozen nightmares."  Doc took a deep breath.  "And not do it.  Twice.  Because he can run away... But he never wants to."       Yiskah frowned.  "Why is it so important?  I never followed your original discussion of measure with Prime very well.  I can see having a higher measure of surviving worldlines is nice in an abstract sense, but that doesn't help us if we're dead, no matter what happens somewhere else, right?"       "Ah.  Measure is a mathematical generalization of size.  I'm using it kind of sloppily, because I have no way to prove just how it applies to my worldline theories.  But in most of the theories I've used to make predictions that actually helped, higher measure for a worldline and 'similar' worldlines is good.  It allows more connections to other, living worlds, more power behind probability manipulation and causal loops that help everything survive, and more options in general.  I'm fairly certain that Golden Valkyrie depends on measure manipulation to affect the future indirectly.  And Journeyman can transfer measure to us as well--because he exists in other worldlines in our cluster.  And there's some evidence he's done exactly that.  Twice.  Recently."       "So how does he manage it without leaving three of him running around?"       Doc waggled a hand.  "Not entirely sure, but measure isn't a number, it's a generalization.  What we would expect to see in the aftermath is something unlikely and fortunate involving Journeyman.  Like, say, appearing 17 seconds before he left when he ported Flicker and himself home from the portal mishap, while just barely surviving.  Or finding some disturbingly detailed tips in his blind drop when they ported home from Flicker's first session on Europa.  I'm still arguing with Ashil and DASI about the details of how measure transfer relates to sideways worldline transfers, causal loops, and apparent time travel to the past.  And there are many complications that I'm handwaving.  But they both agree that relative measure of worldlines is a useful concept.  As is the idea of 'future survival measure'--that's how likely a worldline is to endure in the absence of outside help.  I've been using the word measure for both, which, again, is sloppy.  But it's also faster, and I'm pedantic enough already."       The humor returned to his voice.  "Speaking of sloppy, we'll want to do our best to keep the future survival measure of Earth from dropping too much while Flicker, Journeyman, and Golden Valkyrie are gone.  They're more likely to survive the Visitors if they aren't causally linked to problems here, but if it gets too bad, they might come back to a different worldline where we did a better job.  Could get a bit lonely if that happens."       *****       Journeyman was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at his hands.  He was wearing pants, but his shirt and hat were still on a nearby chair.  It looked like he had started to get dressed after his shower, then stopped.  There was an open flask on the nightstand.  Flicker wasn't sure exactly what was in it, but it was definitely something alcoholic.       "Mike?"       He looked up, his eyes concerned.  "Hey, Flicker.  You okay?"       "I'm fine.  I was worried about you.  Three and DASI said things got pretty rough at the portal."       Journeyman smiled and his eyes relaxed.  "Oh, well..."  He waved a hand and looked to the side.  After a moment he picked up the flask and replaced the cap.       "Yeah," he said.  "They did."       She glided over.  "Touch no touch?"       "Touch."       She sat down and put her arms around him.  She didn't say anything.       "Opening was fine," he said after a while.  "Nailed the space we wanted.  Got the portal situated, then Three expanded it with her generator, and brought the Floater test unit online as a backup.  And we were okay for the first couple of hours.  Couple of shaky spots.  Whenever the snow flow hitting the rim and bouncing off shifted, Three had to blip her drives to keep us on the right orbit, and that made the portal want to slide off-center, so I had to kinda tap at it then the generator would pick up and balance it."       Journeyman start to wave his hand, noticed he was still holding the flask, and put it back on the nightstand.       "Did the mass accumulation make it harder?" asked Flicker.       "No.  Well, yeah, but we were ready for it.  Except for the back pressure.  The plan was not to make the space too big or it would take forever to shrink it back down after we get it filled and you're ready.  And I followed the plan.  But I think we made the space just a little bit too small.  Or not quite stretchy enough at the non-portal boundaries, which is basically the same thing."       He waved his now-empty hand.  "Three compensated for the back pressure.  She did that great.  Hell, she did everything great.  Forget her being prickly yesterday, she kept everything together today, sang sea shanties when I was on the edge, and...  Well, anyway.  Problem was, to keep the portal permeable so we could keep scooping snow without vapor escaping, she had to tighten up the tension in a way that made it harder for me to feel what was going on.  So I was trying to steer the portal with less and less feedback.  And that sucker was huge.  No way could I ever manage that big a portal by myself, I'm a finesse guy."       He looked down.  "Then shit started breaking.  Heard you had a little trouble with that, too."       "Not bad," said Flicker.  "Two generators went yellow, and one of those turned out to just be a flaky sensor."       "Yeah," said Journeyman.  "We had sensors, generator cells, one of the grav units, two inertial compensators, and I forget what else.  Oh, and the secondary resonator on the Floater unit just flat died about halfway through.  And it was freshly tested.  Cloud said they didn't 'untranslated the expletive untranslated', but DASI says that's just colloquial Floater for 'why the frick did it have to do that now?'  He's good at swearing.  Where was I?"       "Things were breaking."       "Oh, yeah.  About five hours in Three had to switch to using both generators, with the Floater unit as the primary, to keep the tension low enough so I could still guide things.  And in hour six, we had a desync and suddenly I had to pull one whole side of the portal.  It was like trying to turn an angry rhinoceros with rubber bands.  Three got everything back under control and resynced in under a second but I was kind of a wreck after that.  I wanted to go the full eight hours but Three said something was hitting yellow in hour seven so we had to shut everything down, and when we were finally done I asked her what hit yellow and she said it was me."       Journeyman looked over at her with a slightly desperate expression.  "I'm sorry.  Did what I could."       "Mike...  You did everything anyone could ask, and more."  Flicker sped up to check in with DASI and Three on her visor, then slowed back down again.  "Three says she's going to swap in the backup portal ship for tomorrow; the maintenance levels are better because they had more time.  And a team of six engineers from the Xelian Volunteers are helping her troubleshoot all the problems--we were doing so many new things at once there were bound to be glitches.  And there's even--okay I'll stop now because your eyes are starting to glaze over."       "Yeah, my brain isn't braining very well.  I keep worrying about some of what Doc said.  About running if the Visitors show up before we're ready.  I don't know if I can do that.  I could see it as a way of baiting them away?  Maybe?  But we'd have to circle back, somehow.  I can't just abandon everyone here--I mean there are so many people I care about on Earth, our Earth, not some hypothetical... Gah."       He rubbed his forehead.  "And tomorrow.  I don't know if we'll be able to reopen the portal.  I don't know if I'll even be able to find the right place to try.  If we can't find the space again we might have to start over from scratch."       "Well," said Flicker.  "If we have to start over, we start over.  Europa has plenty of ice.  And it wouldn't be from scratch, because we have a lot more data now, and everyone is analyzing like mad.  Everyone else--don't worry about it, we're clear to rest."       "Don't worry.  Heh."  He leaned back until he was lying sideways on the bed with his feet still on the floor, then looked up at her.       Flicker put her hand on his chest and met his eyes.  "Mike, you've helped me so many times.  Let's worry about tomorrow... tomorrow.  Not tonight.  Okay?"       Journeyman blinked, but didn't look away.  Then he smiled.  It was a faint smile, but real.  "Okay," he said.

Next:

FMA Secret Santa 2018 Gift!!

Ahh, I’m cutting it so close, I’m so sorry I didn’t post it earlier! This is for @sassyfirealchemist (who coincidentally was also my Secret Santa!) for the Secret Santa exchange by @fmasecretsanta2018 !

I hope you like, and I’m sorry for the lateness again!

Title: Fortunes and Feelings

Rating: T+

Relationships: Roy Mustang/ Edward Elric

Tags: Historical (Victorian-ISH), Romance, Humor, Policeman!Roy, Psychic!Ed, circus

Find this fic on: FF.net and AO3

There were two things that Roy believed were working rather valiantly towards making his morning effectively terrible- well, three were he not used Hughes’ incessant early-morning ramblings. The first was the apologetic woman standing at the entrance of his favorite coffee spot who dared tell Roy the place had closed due to bankruptcy (immediately after this, a passing carriage horse had kicked a puddle directly at his boots, which did nothing to Roy’s sour mood). And, well, the young policeman and his chatty colleague currently stood in the midst of the second noisy, colorful, terrible thing.

The bloody circus.

“When I bring Elicia she’ll win every prize there is! Oh-Roy- she’s going to be so excited about that carousel! Don’t you think?” Hughes nearly squealed in delight at the thought of his daughter running around the amusements (wastes of money, in Roy’s opinion).

“Yes Hughes, I’m sure Elicia will have great fun here. Why a circus needs two policemen to keep guard in the ass crack of the morning I’m not sure.” Roy grumbled. It was currently rather cloudy and windy, and the few people actually here that weren’t staff or guard seemed to regret their forwardness of schedule.

Hughes shrugged, “You know pickpockets and drunkards love to ride the coattails of these kinds of places. Oh, look! There’re the acrobats!”

Just as Roy rolled his eyes at his friend’s behavior, a young blonde man swathed in thick brocade and fluttering silks approached them. Looking around, Roy pegged down a similarly silky tent that must belong to this man that lay to the right of them.

Roy and Hughes shook his hand (which Roy silently noted was automail) before he spoke, “Good morning, Officers. Chief Grand sent you, right? I’ll be giving you a little tour of the area, as our ringleader has a lot of last-minute preparations to take care of before the crowds really set in.”

“Do we get a name, o tour guide?” Roy asked, masking his displeasure with veiled sarcasm.

The blonde’ mouth quirked into an amused smile, “Ed. My brother and I are psychics.” Out of adherence to decorum, Roy refrained from rolling his eyes, but his skepticism must have shown through because Ed gave him an unamused look. “Let’s go see some hot spots of potential crime, shall we?“

….

They made their way slowly through the large field of gallantry and show, Ed pointing out various tents and shady areas that needed ‘special supervision’. The young man seemed incredibly familiar with the layout of the area, even though the circus hadn’t been set up for but a day or two. When asked, Ed simply explained that their layout was similar wherever they went, and he knew whose tents were whose and “all that shit”. His teasing personality got on Roy’s nerves, especially since his day hadn’t started out particularly well either.

“Those are where the drunkards like to drink and flirt with ladies and whatnot” Ed gestured to several gaps between tents sporting respectively, an ashcan and several empties liquor bottles.

“Attractive,” Roy muttered.  

Ed cast a quick, annoyed glace at Roy, “Jeez, Who spat in your breakfast?”

Roy ignored this remark, turning to Hughes instead, “I’ll patrol northern half of the grounds, you get the Southern. We can switch at noon.”

Hughes gave the teasing affirmative, “Sir, yes sir,” going as far as to offer Roy a salute before turning away to his patrol before Roy could snap back. When Roy turned around to Ed, he realized the blonde had disappeared into his nearby tent, leaving Roy alone to work.

————————————

Roy didn’t see Ed until the next week, as the circus was incredibly busy in its opening days. Between shifts patrolling the northern or southern blocks of the fairgrounds, Roy and Hughes made it their personal goals to find the most ridiculous attraction there.

Roy, in a valiant attempt to top Hughes’ sighting of “world’s hairiest man”, decided to test his luck with the fortune tellers’ tent on his break that Thursday. Surely some ridiculous prognosis of his life would override some bloke who doesn’t shave enough.

Roy easily recognized the tent- it was the reddest, most decorated tent of the lot (outside of the central Big Top of course), huge lettered sign notwithstanding. Because of the time and cool morning breeze, not many people were out yet, so Roy took the opportunity to slip through the silks hanging in the doorway and into the small room.

Inside, the tent was considerably darker than outside. The thick canvas walls blocked out the sun, and only a few candles and a dim lantern lit the inside. Ed sat on the opposite end of a small table covered in yet more silks, cards, books, and glass knick-knacks.

When Ed recognized his new customer, he smirked. “Officer, don’t you have a patrol to keep up?”

Roy sat casually in the chair across from the blonde, “I’m on my break. Decided to come check out the validity of the local psychic.”

“Well, you don’t get to check me out for free.” Ed snipped, cringing a second later when he realized how his words came out.

Roy rolled his eyes and dropped two coins into the box by the door, “Now may I check you out?”

Ed glared, “Just sit and show me your hand.”

Roy did as he was told. Ed grabbed his hand, explaining as he picked opened a large book with his free hand, “Today I’m giving palm readings. I want to switch it up every week or so, but this is a pretty simple method. Good for the start of the week.”

“You don’t really think my hand will tell me my future.” Roy stated, already not on board with Ed’s ‘methods’.

Ed looked up at Roy blandly, “Your hand’s not telling you. I’m telling you, based on how your palm lines read.”

“Well then, what do my palm lines say?”

Ed looked intently at Roy’s hand for a second, tracing down one or two larger lines, “Well this one represents your inclination towards your friends over your family, and this one here means you’ll have good luck in love….” Ed explained.

Roy snorted, “Now I know you’re phony.”

“Hey, I’m just reading what it tells me.” Ed huffed, still concentrated on the hand in his grasp. He drew a finger down Roy’s hand lightly, “Let’s see now… despite your thrilling occupation, your occupational future looks fairly calm- see, that’s this line here.” Roy refrained from rolling his eyes yet again. Ed already knew his occupation; of course, he could deduce that he lived a relatively more “thrilling” life than others.

Silence reigned for a while as Ed analyzed the finer trails of Roy’s palm, going so far as to open a reference book somewhere around the base of his thumb. The silence lasted long enough for Roy’s palm to become lightly clammy under the pressure and heat of the other’s hands before Ed broke his gaze, looking up at Roy’s face almost apologetically, “Everything else’s too vague, especially since all I’ve got is this candlelight. It sets the mood, but really messes up my vision.”

Roy, taking this admission as proof of Ed’s position as more of entertainment than of divine reading, stood, “Well, Edward, your services have been most interesting.

Ed wrinkled his nose, “My services- You make it sound like I’m a prostitute or something.”

Roy laughed, “Hey it’s you who said it.”

Ed looked exasperatedly at the policeman, “Don’t you have some drunkards to kick around or something?”

Roy, still amused, left the tent ever more intent to return.

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

He returned to Hughes after their shifts were over, finding the other man fawning over a large selection of goodies that, quote, his “darling Elicia would win for sure”.

“Well, you’re still winning. The psychic’s more sarcastic than he is ridiculous, not that I believe a word of that superstitious crap.” Roy sighed, leaning against the wall of a large pink booth.

“Where’s the ‘but’?” Hughes asked, knowing his colleague all too well.

“I have to make sure, so I’m going to check out his tent again next week.

Hughes’ smirk was enough to make Roy wish there hadn’t been a ‘but’, “Sure that’s why.”

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

Ed intrigued the policeman, and he was a far shot easier to talk to than the stuffy women who waited outside of attractions while their children wreaked havoc inside. So, with two coins and a healthy dose of skepticism, Roy returned the next week. Instead of palm books and cards, atop the tablecloth sat a box of stones, metal nubs, and string.

Ed, who had been fiddling with a string tied around a purple stone, looked up with interest, “Officer, I didn’t think you’d turn up. Crime’s been pretty high recently.”

“I can take a small break, can’t I?” Roy responded.

“You wouldn’t be shirking your duties, would you? An upstanding police officer such as yourself?” came the rebuttal.

Roy tossed his coins into the nearby coinbox, “Well, tell me my future and maybe I can dutifully return to my post.”

Ed barked out a laugh, “You’re kind of stuck up, you know that?”

Roy smirked, “So I’ve been told.” He glanced at the stones and string atop the table at which he now sat, “What’re all of these for?”

Ed’s grin grew as he drew into his element, “Pendulum reading, it’s a personal favorite of mine.”

“How does it work?”

Ed picked up a thin chain, “I’ll show you. What’s your birth month?”

“February. Why?” Roy asked.

Ed sifted through his collection on stones which all had little metal loops at their bases. He pulled out a skinny little amethyst from the depths of the box, explaining, “Your birthstone- It makes the reading clearer.” Roy hummed in acknowledgment, but let Ed focus on his work. He’d taken out various maps and calendars, and he had fixed the amethyst to a small chain. Once he was set up, Ed asked, What do you want to know? Location usually works best.”

The reading was fun enough. Roy asked a lot of trivial questions, watching the crystal swing around until it stilled over a location on the map (he was fairly certain Ed was manipulation the rock, but he didn’t comment). He liked chatting to Ed about the questions and their answers more than he did the actual reading, however.

Eventually, Roy stood up, noting his need to actually work before excusing himself from the tent.

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

Over the weeks, Roy saw Ed frequently through the circus grounds. They usually chatted briefly and went their separate ways. Every week, Roy also made a point to visit Ed’s tent for a reading of some sort. He had given up on trying to tell himself it was merely intrigue that brought him to Ed’s tent. He was fully aware that he wanted to be in the spirited blonde’s company.

Despite their daily meetings in the grounds, it wasn’t until two months after the circus’ arrival that Roy saw Ed outside of the grounds, in plain, civilian clothing. It was a Sunday, the one day the circus was closed, and coincidentally Roy’s day off.

He had been strolling down the city’s main line of stores, gazing into windows for a birthday present for Elicia, when he had seen the telltale flash of golden hair through a window reflection.

After the first incident, Roy began to see Ed in the marketplace rather frequently. He never bought anything, only talked to store owners and looked into the window of the now-vacant coffee spot. Roy always saw him at side-glances and in passing, so he never actually got around to talking to Ed outside of their occasional on-duty meetings until the next Sunday.

Exiting the local grocer’s, Roy nearly collided head-on with the small man he’d seen around town. Ed let out a colorful array of expletives, cursing Roy for making him drop his food without even looking up to see who he’d collided with.

Roy couldn’t help his amused smile, “For a fortune-teller, you’re not so perceptive on the streets.”

Ed, finally recognizing the recipient of his verbal attacks, snapped his gaze up at Roy, “Officer guy! You should’ve looked where you’re going.”

“I prefer ‘Roy’ off-duty, thank you.” He clipped back, moving from the doorway of the grocer’s to let passers-by through. Ed definitely looked different in plain clothing (just a button-down and some brown slacks), though Roy did notice how the button-down’s rolled-up sleeves did well to Ed’s general appearance. It showed off his masterful automail wonderfully, as well. If anything, he looked more mature than he did in his circus getup.

“Want a hand?” He added as the blonde was struggling to fit his wares into the crumpled paper grocery bags.

Ed shrugged, and Roy took it as an invitation to help. He fit the remaining containers into place and, before Ed could protest, took one of the bags in his arms with the excuse, “I’ve got nothing better to do.” In reality, Ed had become something of a fancy to Roy, and he intended to spend his valuable time seeing that fancy through. After all, the circus wouldn’t stay in Central forever.

Ed looked away, either embarrassed or frustrated, muttering, “Wouldn’t wanna damage your ego too badly by denying you, seems like you wouldn’t be too used to the concept.”

“Oh yeah, I’m never told no. The criminals simply run into the police car. In fact, they have to fight over who gets a ride; it’s simply infuriating!” Roy replied, shifting the bag a bit as they crossed a stopped road two blocks from the circus grounds.

Ed rolled his eyes but didn’t look particularly offended. He changed the subject, “That old coffee shop downtown: Why did it close?”

Roy shrugged, “The owner’s daughter said bankruptcy. It’s weird, because the location is great, and I never saw the place empty.”

Ed nodded but had fallen in a contemplative state that Roy felt uninclined to break him from. They reached the circus grounds at this point, and Ed snapped out of it to take Roy’s grocery sack and bid him adieu.

----------

The circus was packed up two days later. Roy tried to hide his indignation, but he could tell that Hughes sensed his mad mood.

“Come on, Roy, we can go back to catching the big guys now.” Hughes stated as they watched the pack of acrobats walk into the big tent with their equipment tied into large bundles.

“Yeah.” Roy stated mildly, pushing off the wall, “I’ll make a round.”

Hughes’ sigh didn’t escape Roy as he ambled through the falling tents and scattered flyers. he found himself outside of Ed’s tent before he knew where he’d walked. The fortune teller’s blonde head poked out from behind the curtain-door, “Roy, hey! You haven’t come around in the past few days.”

“Yeah, there’s been a lot of ruffians trying to get their final few crimes in before you all go off.” He shrugged, “Need any help packing?”

Ed gave Roy a rare smile, “Yeah, come on in.”

He was tasked with placing all of Ed’s fragile-looking crystals and glass relics into boxes full of hay, which was difficult when the objects were all awkward shapes and curves that didn’t fit nicely into a rectangular space. While working, Roy kept looking over at Ed, who seemed oddly peppy. He’d have thought moving around would be laborious and frustrating, but Ed smiled almost secretly to himself. When they were done with his packing, Roy turned to find Ed looking at him searchingly.

“I guess all that’s left is the tent, huh.” The policeman stated.

Ed looked around, “I guess so, but I can take that down myself. Thanks for the help.”

“It’s no problem,” Roy dismissed, not sure what to do, “Um, I guess have good luck in the next city…”

Ed rolled his eyes and stepped forwards, grabbing Roy’s arms and planting a light kiss on the other man’s lips. Roy froze, not quite comprehending what was happening. He hadn’t even considered his crush being a shared attraction. Through Roy’s stunned silence, Ed smirked, “I don’t like goodbyes. Get out of my tent, asshole, I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Roy couldn’t help his smile, “Yeah, see you around.” He left the tent with a small skip and didn’t explain to a confused Hughes how a patrol round of the grounds had so drastically changed his mood.

-----------

He didn’t see Ed around that day, unfortunately, as they were all gone the next day. Only a mess of paper and trash remained of the circus, and Roy felt all the more dejected for it. It was his day off, and he walked down the downtowns strip, trying to find some way to waste his time and, maybe, distract himself from the day before.

He left a clothing store empty-handed and looked over longingly at the closed doors of the closed coffee shop, really wanting some of their past wares at the moment. What he didn’t expect to see was the door open, and a young man with short, dirty blonde hair adjusting some tables outside. Curiously, he walked across the street to the man.

“Good Afternoon” he greeted, and the man looked up with a happy expression.

“Hello, you curious? We’ve had a lot of questions.” He replied.

Roy shrugged, “I guess I am. Not many shops here go back into business so quickly.”

The boy smiled, “My brother an I just bought the place yesterday. We were part of the circus that just left, and needed a change of pace.”

“Oh?” Roy’s interest had been effectively piqued, “What kind of store will it be?”

A voice from the doorway answered, “We’re selling oddities and psychic services.”

Roy whipped around, “Ed!”

The blonde laughed at Roy’s surprise, “I told you I’d see you around.”

“You didn’t have to be so cryptic,” Roy responded, but couldn’t hide his excitement. Ed had an equally happy quirk of a smile behind his trained natural look, “Where’s the fun in that? You don’t look like you’re working, wanna help set up instead of standing here pestering Al?”

Al protested his brother’s comment and Roy rolled his eyes, already crossing the threshold behind Ed, “I get it- you just like to use me.”

Ed feigned exasperation, “Took you long enough to figure it out.”

Roy helped Ed set up shop for the rest of the afternoon, but not without first pulling him out of Al’s sight and properly reciprocating Ed’s earlier kiss.

His day went much better than planned.

Taiyamaweek day 16: Trapped

I know i´m two days behind but wherever, like one hundred years ago i made sci-fy Taiyama AU for the DigimonOTP and i never finish it, so here are part number 2, please enjoy. 

Prop: Trapped 

Sumary: Yamato tought a bad brake up was the worst thing that could happen to him in his last year at the star academy, but he was wrong now he must join his brother, his best friend and his exboyfriend in a suicidal mision to an estrange planet.

You can read the first chapter right here 

And the second chapter after the cut! 

It was a long trip, fourteen hours at optimus speed, but the old piece of trash that the commander facilitated  never get to that, it was especially hard for the pilots, after 21 hours of fly booths of them were exhausted, so Yamato complete understand his brother relieve when a tiny little green spot appear on the screen.

“There it is, asteroid 54¡” Takeru yells almost with the voice of a child  “I mean..” he hesitate “we are near to the Target Captain” 

“Excellent!”  Taichi exclaim, and Yamato smile, the captain was as much as tired as the pilots but for a complete different reason, Taichi was  incapable of been quiet, with all certain he was impatient for jump into action, Yamato remember those longs afternoon beside him, the summer sun, the longs campings, the heat of his skin against him, the unfinished fights…

“That's weird” Sora interrupt his thoughts

“What?” He replied, happy to have something else to think about

“According to the info asteroid 54 is a desert planetoid, but our system register an entire ecosystem, is a green planet” she continuos

Taichi approach to the monitor “Are you sure this is the right planetoid?”

“Of course we are sure¡” Hikari yells offended

“ And even if is not”  Koushiro voice sound across the communicator “the transmissions become for this location”

“What do you think Yamato?” Every time Taichi call him by his first name Yamato gets an uncertain feelings, something between the necessity to run and the impulse to punch him on the face.

He knew Taichi was a born lider, he want to follow him, but he also wanna fight about every single ones of his decisions,

“We come ready for a mission on  a desert planet, it would be crazy go into an unknown ecosystem, whatsoever if there is life on asteroid 54 the probability of survival of the crew of Adventure 02 increase, is risky but…” Taichi smile with all his teeths, full of excitement

“ You hear it Mr Takahashi, prepare to arrive¡”

They land over a beautiful landscape, the air was warm and humid, it looks like a colorful  tropical jungle

“Well, we should bring a  botanic expert”  Taichi jokes touching the grand

“Actually…”  Mimi turn to him “i kind of  specialized on foreign  flora”

“I thought you two work on communications” he said

“We get the passanti on communication but  i'm actually tactical expert and Mimi knows about  plants” Sora speak  “but we fail the space test and get stuck on the communication tower since last semester”

“Well,  we are lucky then” Taichi stand up, holding his Captain hat “listen everybody, i'm gonna need all the crew on the bridge right now!”  only in a few minutes Joe and Koushiro arrive “What is the state of Adventure 01 Izzy? , come on, give me good news”

“The principal motor is relatively fine but it couldn't work on maximum capacity, if i could work on it, i could fix it on 6 maybe 5 hours, but i'm gonna need help for the rest of it, it was a rough landing” Hikari and Takeru protest to his comment  “and one of the propulsor get damage”

“It sound like a lot of work”Taichi said coming near to his little sister, the pilots look terrible “I want you to concentrate in the engineer, did you understand? Get the transmissions to the others”

“But… “

“ Nothing¡” He yells  “rest a few hours, eat something and come back to the engineer room, that's an order, if we need to leave this planet i want to have this space garbage ready”

Yamato was impress by Taichi command, usually he tend to be more tender, and not complete serious about anything, the leadership suit him.  

“I Understand Captain” Koushiro grumble and Yamato notice how pleased  was Taichi with his new title

“Takeru and Hikari” Taichi continues “great work you two, now go to your chambers and rest, the explorers would take this mission since here”  They don't even blink and accept the orders “Tachikawa, Kido, Ishida and I'll form the explorer team” he turn to Mimi “ Tachikawa did you think you could track the signal?

“If we link the transmission to the GPS it would work” Sora talks “ but i have more experience that Mimi on the field, i should be the one who…”

“You have tactical training right?” Taichi interrupt and She nod “i don't wanna left our only engineer and ours pilots alone on an unknown planet, you are the  security chief  now, beside i'm sure that Miss Tachikawa knowledge of botanic would be useful on the field”

Yamato didn't believe Sora listen anything after security chief

“Yea.. excuse me Tai”  Joe seems nervous “i mean Captain” He correct,  he wasn´t happy “ did you said that i would be on the explorer team? I'm no prepare for that, im medical support”

“Yes, and if for some miracle we found Davis and the others i bet they would need you more that anyone of us”  Yamato replied before Taichi, knowing exactly what he was thinking, somehow happy that they could still be on the same page

 The team get ready but after an hour and a half of walking it was obvius that Mimmi has no idea how to use the GPS  

“I thought you work on comunication¡” it was almost dusk and Yamato get desperate

Yes!” she yells “ thats mean i know how to answerd a phone this is hight tec¡”

“Take it easy Matt¡” Joe intervene “let me see that” and he took the device from Mimi´s hand “I taught we need to go to the north, up to that mountain”

“Lets move” Taichi insist “we don´t know how many daylight we have”

“Not saying” Mimmi didnt even ask Joe for returning the device “This forest is weird…”

“Is that your Botanic expertis?” Taichi jokes

“Shut up!” she replied “ don't you think is weird that we havent seen any kind of fauna? i mean is only vegetation, too quiet”

Nobody take notes over Mimi commentary and just keep moving, Yamato could see the despair on Taichi moves, if they didn't find anyone all the mission would be for nothing, he would risk  everyone else life for nothing.

The sky turn black when they encounter a clearing on the wood, and in the corner, thank good what its look like an abandon camp.

“That one look like Cody backpack¡” Joe yells and run to it “and Cody´s sword?” the fears was clear on his face when he pick up a broken old wood sword from the ground

“sshhh” Yamato call his attention  “listen…”  

“Davis?”Taichi ask when something move on the darkness , suddenly from behind the grass an anthropomorphic creature emerg, Mimi shout silently, it was green, without eyes, cover entirely with leaves, the only feature recognizable was it big pointing mouth

“Am.. excuse me?” Taichi begins and Yamato give him credit for not run and hide, as them, and inspire by his lider bravery he pull of his gun “Can you understand me? we come from the star institute, ours companions lost on this planet, we believe this was their camp, if you could help us” the captain come  near to the creature when this get signal to understand him.

Mimmi scream again when others creatures emerge behind the first

“We come in peace” Taichi continues and Yamato walk behind him ready to take him away when his courage cross the line of stupidity.

Sora star to think that her new position as security chief was more  a fancy title than an actual position, of course, when the alarm sound and the explorer team come back with the captain cover in blood meanwhile they escape from some hell looking diabolical carnivore human size plants she make her new position to count.

She close up the ship and shoot every single gun to the monsters.

Joe lead then to the medical facility, Yamato get surprise about the calm and diligence of his friend, he was to use to Joe panik that see him in calm was an anomaly, more when he couldn't stop his hands to shake.

“Put him over the table” Joe scream  “Wherever they throw to him is dangerous” he put a pair of gloves and a face mask “I would need to operate”

Yamato was not prepare for that

He was ready to see Taichi command and success, define the authority and break the rules; but not for that, not for see the man he loves open over an operation table.

“Yamato!” his friend call him “Yamato come on!” Joe snap him “I need you to hold him” he said while he took a scalpel, in automatic Yamato obey.

Taichi resist and scream meanwhile Joe extract the bullets from his body

“It´s look organic” the doctor exclaim

“Let me!” Mimmi take them away from him and examine them “ They look like some kind of seeds” she put them into a plastic contender “I would take this to Koushiro in the lab, meaby we could figure something out.

“Very well” Joe remove the gloves and set the monitors on “we need to keep an eye on him…”

He continues his medical speech but Yamato didn't listen, he couldn´t take his eyes from Taichi, the injure on his stomage look bad, his uniform was cover in blood; Yamato renegade of his position.

“Is my fault” Yamato said

“Stop” Joe cut him off “ I know what are you gonna said but he is the one who approach the monster and for the record he is the one who sight all of us into a suicidal mission so..”

“I should protect…”

Taichi star to caught and Joe run to the instruments

“Did you wanna help? joe scold him “whach him to not choke!!” Yamato pick him up

“He is hot!” his skin was burning “i mean.. he has fever!”

“O stars!” Joe run from one side to the medical facility to another “something is blocking the instruments” he hold a bowl with water and a pair of clean towels “help me”

They manage to control the fever still Taichi seems to be in pain, he mumble incoerences and sweat to much.

“Carefully” Yamato whisper when he try to get up “you are gonna get hurt” he hold him “i´m gonna take care of you, you are gonna be fine” he didn't want to let him go “you are gonna be fine” but he must “Captain”

Taichi just nod and smile, Yamato feel his knees weak, just that and he was complete melt it

“Ok, so you just need to change the towels every time they feel warm and dont let him fall sleep until the fever is gone”  the doctor walk near to the door

“What? were you go?”

“I need to wash myself  and honestly i don't wanna be between you two”

“What?¡ no wait!”

Suddenly he was alone with Taichi, semi conscious Taichi, so beautiful goofy smile Taichi

“Thank you” taichi libs barely move and Yamato decide to concentrate in the take care of him

“Don't mention it, Captain” stupid feelings, he must draw a line “I just do my duty”

“Your duty” he repeat almost laughing “You sound a lot  like him cadet”

“Like him?”

Taichi´s eyes move behind his eyelids, and Yamato remember that he must keep him awake

“Captain! Captain!” he yells “I sound like who?”

“Yamato” he shake his head “My god if that man is beautiful”

“I am…” he stop as soon as he realized “You're delusional….”

“not only beautiful” Taichi continues with a grin “I mean he is fine but he is just.. not real, something else, and his voice… “ muscle spasms appear on his left leg, his right arm shake on the air and Yamato prevent him to fall for the bed.

The time stop as always as they hug, Yamato hold his entire body and he marveled of the sensation of his body against him

“I such an idiot…” Taichi cries over his shoulder

“what?”  

“stupid… stupid…” in a quick movement he let himself drop over the bed again “I´m an idiot!”

“No you are not!” Yamato yells, offended by Taichi´s words “You are brave and and.. determined, you are intuitive and perseverance, you excel in everything you do, you.. you…”

That goofy smile again

“You are so kind cadet, i wish… i wish he had been that kind”

“What? why do you mean by that..”

Taichi didn't answer , he was falling asleep, Yamato hurry to change the towels “no, come on… wake up Taichi!” his body was still warm “Captain! Captain!”

His title bring something in him

“I need water…” Yamato obeys and bring the liquid to his lips as carefully as he can “i miss him so much….”

they must not have that conversation, not when Taichi was hurt, not in an alien planet, not in mortal danger

“liar”

Taichi laugh

“I´m not… that was him, he was always the best liar” his breath turn heavier “i disappointed him”

“No.. no.. you never”

“I saw it…” Taichi whisper “every time he look at me, everytime he yell, or shout, everytime he scold me, everytime he kick the wall, he was disappointed, and i was exhausted”

What had he done?

“No! wake up Captain!” Finally he open his eyes

“You look a lot like him”  he was so close  “ but you have prettiest eyes, Yamato eyes were so cold, he tough i was stupid”

“that´s not true”

“You are just saying…”

“No, you are smart, and clever, you are brave and… you are the bravest person i know, you are a true leader,  people follow you, you are, you are the best person i ever know”

“What a beautifuls things you said cadet”  taichi laid over his shoulder “i wish he would said me those things”

Yamato feels his body trembling, he didnt know what to said

“Can i kiss you Captain?” 

SEKAIICHI HATSUKOI ONODERA RITSU NO BAAI Chapter 27 Preliminary Translation (for the impatient)!!!

**MAJOR SPOILERS**

 If you’re like me, you see the new foreign language raws of Sekakoi and are dying to read them right away. For those people, I’ve drafted a preliminary translation of the long-awaited twenty-seventh chapter of The Case of Onodera Ritsu, which just came out on the 29th!!!  My translations are from Chinese, so I can’t vouch for how closely they follow the original Japanese text. As a die-hard fan of Sekakoi, I tried to translate Takano and Onodera as I understand (and LOVE!!) them as people. Just a note, though, my translations air on the liberal interpretation side and hope to refit the text to sound natural (or as natural as possible) in English, so if you’re looking for a word-for-word translation, you won’t find it here. Additionally, I know that there is a group who is officially scanlating SIH, and I do not mean to step on anyone’s toes or offend anyone. This is not a full scanlation in the slightest – it’s just for those who want a quick translation. I would be MORE THAN ECSTATIC AND EXTREMELY HONORED if the scanlation group covering SIH wants to work off of any of my translations, but please contact me if you do. :D

 Credits for the scans that I used to translate go to Tong Meng Hui同萌繪 （ cute and clever name by the way – my inner Chinese history geek heartily approves） scanlation group. The link to their scanlation is here, and I take ABSOLUTELY NO CREDIT for it: https://weibo.com/u/1582384823?is_hot=1#_rnd1514689495071.

Lastly, Shungiku Nakamura’s works belong to her, of course. Please buy the originals to support her work!! (By the way, there is a special thirteenth volume coming out in May with an extra booklet and some sort of marriage related special??!!).

 So!! Enjoy, and feel free to send suggestions. Any errors are mine alone!

*Edited  for a read-more function and some small errors. Sorry everyone and thank you for your patience. 

--

Title Page:

 Surely, these minute details of everyday life will one day become precious memories.

[May 1st Release – Onodera Ritsu no Baai Volume 13 (special edition and extra booklet) Now in pre-sale!!

Also on sale are the extremely popular SIH volumes 1-12 and Junjou Romantica 1-22.

Ultra-capable Editor in Chief x Newbie editor’s sightly realistic publishing company world love story!

SIH will be released as an app-game for smart-phones!!!!

 --

Page 2:

Every time I cross over

Those pink tracks…

--

Page 3:

 clang clang clang

--

Page 4:

 Ritsu: Eh? You’ve moved there?

Mutou Sensei: Oh, do you know the area?

Ritsu: Yes, that was the closest station to my high school! Mutou sensei: Ahhh... I see!

Ritsu: Ah yes, but that you have moved to Tokyo is really quite the surprise.

Mutou sensei: Ahaha. Because handing in the manuscripts on-time and securing assistants was never that convenient…. (I’d about reached my limits!) Ritsu: Ah.

 --

Page 5:

 Ritsu: Also, I know you must be very busy unpacking… but regarding the manuscript… Mutou sensei: It’s no problem at all. I’ve just finished it!

Ritsu: Really? Fantastic! Thank you for your hard work!!!  Ah, so could I come pick it up now?

Ok, great, thank you so much, you’ve been a great help. Ok, I will see you soon.

RItsu (thoughts): it has been so long since I’ve been to XX station….

Looking out the windows of the train on my way to school, every year there would always be cherry blossoms lining the tracks…

 --

Page 6:

 [And

Day

After day

After day

I would be secretly watching Sempai from behind on my way to school.

GAHH~!!!!! Stop thinking about that dark history!!!!!

 --

page 7:

 Takano: What the hell are you doing?

Ritsu: !?(startle!) Why are you here?

Takano: Um maybe because I work here…?

Here are the materials for the meeting. Remember to look them over before tomorrow.

Ritsu: Huh? Ah, okay!

Oh, I am headed over to Mutou Sensei’s house to pick up the manuscript.

Takano: Mutou sensei’s?

Ritsu: Yes, it seems she just moved to Tokyo yesterday.

Takano: No way.

 --

page 8

 Takano: Where does she live?

Ritsu: Um. Well …

At XX station on YY line.

Takano: XX station?

Ah!

That's –

[Don’t say it!!!]  stands up abruptly Ah, well, then I’m headed off.

Takano: Hang on. I’ll be heading out to meet with an author as well, so why don’t we go together?

Ritsu: Ah… but… um…

Takano: What?

Ritsu: It’s nothing.

Ritsu (thinking): If I seem too flustered, he’ll think that I care about it too much!!

 --

page 9:

 Takano: Achoo

Ritsu: Have you caught a cold? Takano: Well, it’s not at full cold status yet, just the first signs.

Ritsu: (Hmph!) Takano-san, it seems that someone hasn’t been taking care of themselves.

Takano: Ah… maybe.

So, why don’t you come over to my house today to take care of me. I’ll make dinner for you. (Aren’t you done for today after picking up the manuscript?)

Ritsu: Blush I’m not going!!

Takano: Oh, right. Here, take this.

 --

page 10

Ritsu: ?

Takano: It’s the key to my apartment.

Ritsu: Huh?

Takano: You can come over whenever you want. Also, as a thank you in return, give me the key to your apartment.

Ritsu: Wha?

Takano: Or why don’t we just move in together. Otherwise, you might die alone at your house and I might never know.

If we live together, the house would be super neat and there would always be hot food to eat, now doesn’t that sound nice?

Ritsu: Huh? Wait!!!

Takano:  And then I wouldn’t have to worry about your friend anymore.

 --

page 11:

 RItsu: Wha – what are you talking about?

Takano: Anyway, come over today.

Ritsu: No thank you – please allow me to decline!

Takano: Why? Ritsu: Well because judging by past experiences… (t/n this could also be “well because common sense tells me…”)

[Ah. The key to Takano-san’s apartment. I remember.]

Takano: What?

Ritsu: … it’s nothing.

Takano: If you have something to say, just say it.

Ritsu: I don’t…

Takano: Onodera.

Ritsu: …

…

Well, that is,

That key to your apartment.. wasn’t it… that was Yokozawa’s before, right?

 --

page 12:

 Ritsu: ...I just suddenly thought of it, that’s all!

An-anyway I’ve got somewhere to be, so I’m heading off. I’ll see you later.

Takano: Onodera.

I’ve already had him return that key to me.

Ritsu: Huh? It’s not as if -  I’m not –

Takano: I’m sorry.

--

page 13:

 Takano: I should have told you properly. I’m sorry.

I had already asked for the key that I gave to Yokozawa back. The key I just gave you is a new one.  

Ritsu: Huh? Ah! I already said that I’m not –

[No no – it can’t seem as if I care about this too much!!]

Ritsu: A-and anyways we rent our apartments, how could you give one to someone else? What will happen when you leave that place?

Takano: I talked it over with the building management before I made this one, so it’s not a problem.

Because, I wanted you to have it no matter what.

 --

page 14:

 Takano: So take it. clink

Ritsu: Wai-

Takano: Bye-bye. I’ll leave Mutou sensei to you then.

Ritsu: Takano-san!!!

Woman: Good work.

Takano: You too.

Ritsu’s thought:  ……Heyyyy…., even if you give me that thing…

 --

page 15:

 slam

Ritsu (thoughts): I’m returning it to him. This is me returning it to him!

Ugh god, what is that person thinking?!

Kisa: Ricchan, you haven’t left yet?

Ritsu: Hahaha, ah, no, I forgot something…

Ritsu (thoughts): Just because he gave me a key, he tells me to give him my key and to live with him. I totally cannot understand what he is thinking!

[but]

Ritsu’s thoughts:  this way…

[He took his key back (from Yokozawa)]

--

page 16:

 ding

Nao: oh, hey! If it isn’t Ritsu!

Ritsu: Nao! You’re working at Marukawa today?

Nao: Yep. I’ve gotten another job here besides the photo collection book. And what are you up to?

Ritsu: I’m on my way to pick up a manuscript.

Nao: (?!) Oh? So you have to go door-to-door to pick up the manuscripts yourself?

Ritsu: No, not every time. This time the author had just happened to have recently moved here, so I thought I’d pay a visit.

Nao: Oh okay, is it nearby?

Ritsu: No, maybe 30-40 minutes by train. Seems to be near my old school – which caught me by surprise!

 --

Page 17:

 Nao: Huuuuh. Did you suggest that place to sensei?

Ritsu: No, it was just a coincidence!

Nao: Uh-huh…

Ritsu: Then, I’ll see you later!

Nao: I’ll go with you.

Ritsu: What?

Nao: Well, I was just getting ready to head back anyway.

Ritsu: Huh? Um… but I’m going for work…

Nao: It’s fine, it’s fine. I won’t go with you to the author’s house.

 --

page 18:

 Ritsu: Ummmm..but.. Nao: I just want to see what your old school was like! After I take a look, I’ll head back on my own – so there’s no issue, right?

Ritsu: That is….. Errrrr…. Um…

 --

Page 19:

 Announcement: XX station. XX station. Doors will open on your left.

(sound effect: clang clang clang)

--

page 20:

 Nao: Ritsu? The gate finally went up (Ah. Sure took its time.)

Ritsu: Oh right, sorry! Um, it’s this way! The school is about five minutes walking distance from here.

Nao: OK. Nao: Hey, is it that building right over there? Ritsu: Ah, yes.

RItsu (thoughts): The uniforms haven’t changed at all.

Nao: Wowww, pretty impressive school you have here!!

 --

page 21:

 [Ahhhh…. Right. Takano-san and I have definitely walked this path before…]

Startle

Ritsu (thoughts): It seems I’ve started thinking of a lot of different things….

(muddle muddle)

That sort of sordid history can’t be summed up with simple “nostalgia….”

Nao: Has it changed?

--

page 22:

 RItsu: Huh?

Nao: The school.

Ritsu: Oh, I’m not sure. From the outside, it looks like it hasn’t changed…

Nao: Well I’m sure they’ve renovated it since then.

Ritsu: Ah, that’s true…

Nao: …. Uh huh…. Ten years ago, you met Saga-sempai here huh….

Ritsu: What? (*heartbeat*) Ah, um…. Yeah.

Nao: Hmm….

--

page 23:

 Nao: I clearly don’t know anything about the Ritsu of that time, and yet that person does. It really doesn’t sit well with me.

Ritsu: Huh? What are you talking abou-

Nao: Ritsu.

I really do love you.

--

Page 24:

 Ritsu: …..

…. What?

Nao: At first it was just because I thought you were at risk and couldn’t stop worrying about you that I became your friend.

But after that, after spending each day with you, slowly but surely, I started to really understand you. And then, I fell in love with you.

Narration: [He did recently say, “I’m serious about this.” Could it be… that it was true?]

 --

Page 25:

Ritsu: B-but, in all the time I’ve known you, you’ve never…

Nao: Well, that’s obviously because I didn’t want to let you find out.

It was, after all, under those circumstances, and I also thought maybe I was confusing feelings of empathy with romantic interest.

But later I realized that it was, in fact, interest.

And you never mentioned anything about Saga-sempai again. I even breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that you had finally given him up.

Because I had seen how depressed you were then, I thought that any confession that I would make might cause you even more pain.

So, I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

 --

page 26:

 Nao: Rather than risk pushing you away with a confession, it would be better to continue to be friends… is what I thought. So I didn’t say anything.

… but… in the end, I couldn’t accept that.

After we parted I also had a lot of different experiences, but in the end, from then until now, it was always you that I loved

Ritsu: O-oh, is that so… I’m sorry. At the time, because I was so caught up in my own affairs, I never noticed.

Nao: Ahahaha. You really are thick-headed.

--

page 27:

 Nao: Are you still in love with Saga-sempai?

Ritsu: Huh?

Nao: Ritsu, don’t let yourself get hurt like you did last time.  

Ritsu: Hu-hurt? I was never-

Nao: So… it is just that you’ve been restrained by these feelings of “I liked him,” am I right?

--

page 28:

 Nao: I don’t want to see you like that ever again.

Ritsu: Nao… Nao.

Nao: Even if he has changed his name, he is still that same guy that hurt you!

Since he is your boss, I can’t ask you not to see him again, but to be honest, just seeing him by your side - it pisses me off.

 --

page 29:

Nao: I hope that you will take some time to think this over properly, so you don’t have to give me an answer right now.

But from now on I hope you can see me as a potential romantic partner.

Well, then, I’m heading off now. Bye bye!

Ritsu: Eh – Nao!

Nao: I’m satisfied by seeing the school; hurry up and pick up your manuscript!

Ah. Ritsu. I just want you to remember this.

 --

page 30:

 Nao: I definitely treasure you more. At least a lot more than any “Saga-sempai” or “Takano san” ever could.

 --

page 31:

 [… ��� … Nao.

He is serious about me. He truly is a good friend. When I had fallen so deeply into the pit of despair, he was always there to support me. It’s hard to even say just how much he helped me.]

Ritsu (thoughts): Because I had always seen him as a friend, I never even noticed… He said he didn’t need an answer right away, but I should have let him down right then.

Even if he says that he wants me to see him as a romantic partner, I still only see him as a friend.

[And what’s more…]

 Memory: Nao: So… it is just that you’ve been restrained by these feelings of “I liked him,” am I right?

 --

page 32:

 […. Could that be it?]

Ritsu (thoughts): No, that can’t be right. My past was always a dark patch of history devoid of any sort of happy memories.

And what’s even more, with the ten years intervening, it is hard to even glimpse a shadow of what it was like back then.

Yes, that’s it.

[Not only tyrannical, but also unyielding, his personality is the worst, and he is always doing all this inappropriate stuff to me].

……

[But.]

[He’s very capable when it comes to work, and every manga that he has a hand in creating is interesting. He does say things that are way over the line… but in the end, his advice is always on the mark.]

--

page 33:

 [When I succeed, he praises me, and he also has always believed in me… moreover, he says that he has never stopped loving me over these past ten years.]

….

I should really clear things up with Nao.

[I’m not being restrained by old feelings. And I’m not being controlled by them either. I really need to tell him that it is not like that at all.]

 --

page 34:

 Ritsu: Huh?

Hatori: Welcome back. That took a while, huh.

Ritsu: Ah, I’m sorry about that. When I picked up the manuscript, we also chatted about content for next chapter.

Takano-san isn’t back yet?

Hatori: He said that he was headed straight home after his meeting with the author.

Ritsu: Huh?!

Hatori: Did something happen?

Ritsu: Eh? Ah, no! I see, so that’s what he said.

Oh, well, then I’ll be headed off as well.

Hatori: Okay, good work today.

 --

page 35:

 [Anyway – his key! What should I do with it?!]

Ritsu (thoughts): Since he went straight home, that means that he has to have another key, right? Then, it’s a non-issue. I’ll just leave the key here and go straight home, right?!

But what if some sort of accident happens if I leave it here – that’s scary to think about.

We-well, but, why does it have to be me who worries about this kind of stuff?

phone rings

Ritsu: Hello?!!

Takano: I don’t have a key, so I can’t get into my house.

Ritsu: What?

Why?

Takano: Didn’t I just give my key to you?

--

page 36:

 Ritsu: Huh? But that’s a spare, right? Don’t you have another set?

Takano: I left them at home.

Ritsu: What?!

Takano: Aren’t you finished with work already anyways? Come back; I’ll make dinner for you.

Ritsu (thoughts): Okay, you DEFINITELY did that on purpose just because I didn’t agree to eat dinner with you. You KNEW your other key was at your house, and purposefully gave me your only key…

Takano: If you don’t come back, then I can’t make dinner, so get moving.

Ritsu: Please don’t be so difficult! Why couldn’t you have just not given me the key in the first place? Takano: ACHOO

 --

page 37:

 Takano: Achooo

Ritsu: Hey, wait a second, are you alright?  

Takano: sniff What?

Ritsu: You have a cold, don’t you?

Takano: I don’t.  

Achoo

Ritsu: Ahh, you do, though. Okay, okay, I get it, I get it.

[DAMNNIT!!] grabs

[Doing this sort of childish thing just to play around with people– it would clearly be best if I just let him deal with things by himself.]

Ritsu (thoughts): But, if his cold gets worse and he tries to pin this all on me, that’ll suck.

 --

page 38:

[I really want to tell him that he is just getting what he deserves. Are you an idiot?! What the heck is going on in the brain of yours? This isn’t for Takano-san at all. It’s only because I have a lot that I want to say that I’m running…. And bringing Takano-san’s key…]

 --

page 39:

 Ritsu panting from running

Ah ha ah hah

Ritsu: WHAA?

Takano: I’m starving. (It’s hot out.)

Ritsu: And I just ran all the way here from the station!!

Takano: You’re kidding.

Ritsu: I’m not! Because if you died in the doorway, I’d have nightmares. (You just figured that out now, didn’t you?!)

Takano: ….

Ah….

 --

page 40:

 Takano: Thanks. pat pat Sorry, but I’m super happy right now.

Ritsu: Please! Please don’t do such childish things!

Takano: All I did was give you my key.

Ritsu: So, I’m saying, this sort of thing –

Takano: Here. Drink this.

Ritsu (thoughts): Huh…? Isn’t this already half empty?  Which means…

Takano: Our relationship is past the point of being embarrassed over indirect kisses, no?

Ritsu: TAKANO-SAN!!!!! (blush blush blush!)

Takano: Alright, alright.

Were you able to collect the manuscript?

--

page 41:

 Ritsu: Ah, yes. Sensei also sends her regards.

Takano: Where’s her house near?

RItsu: Oh, remember the bus station in front of the school? It’s that apartment that you can see right after you turn onto the side-road.

Takano: … Ah. It’s sort of coming back to me.  Actually, I remember standing in front of the street-gate waiting for it to go up and getting pissed when it wouldn’t. (Ritsu – bdmp)

Is it still the same?

Ritsu: Eh, ah, yes. B-but I never thought I had to wait long there.

Takano: No way.

Ritsu: … Ah. B-but Nao also complained that it took forever.

 --

page 42:

 RItsu urk : Ah….

Takano: …

You. You went with Nao to pick up the manuscript?

Ritsu: … Um… about that… Please let me explain.

Takano: In the hallway?

Ritsu: Huh? Ah, ummm. Then I’ll just send you an email when I get home.

Takano: Didn’t I just tell you? I don’t have a key.

 --

Page 43:

 Takano: Open the door.

Ritsu: …

k-chak

Takano: Go on.

blocking the way

Ritsu: Ta-takano-san. Um. Nao was at the company for work, and I just happened to run into him in the lobby.

 --

page 44:

Ritsu: I – after I said that Sensei’s house was close to my old school, he said he wanted to come see it. I turned him down, but in the end I wasn’t able to lose him.

Ah, but of course, I didn’t tell him Mutou Sensei’s address. We just walked together next to the school, and then split up.

Takano: What did you talk about?

Ritsu: Just some regular topics.

Takano: What do you mean by “regular?”

Ritsu: J-just. About school. About old times.  

Takano: And you were confessed to as well, weren’t you?

 --

page 45:

 Ritsu: startle

Takano: …. So what did you say.

Ritsu: Please don’t use such leading questions to interrogate me!

Takano: But if I didn’t do that, you wouldn’t say anything, no?

Ritsu: O-okay yes, he confessed, but I said before that I only see Nao as a friend, so I was surprised.

Takano: And how did you respond?

Ritsu: I- I didn’t. Because he said that I didn’t need to respond right away.

Takano: …

Ritsu: And!

--

page 46:

 Takano: And what?

Ritsu: ….

Ritsu: I’m heading back. Here is your key!!

Grab

Ritsu: Wha-

Takano: You still haven’t answered me.

Ritsu: Please let me go!

Push

Ritsu: Waa!!

Takano: So. After I find out that the person I like has been confessed to, you expect me to hold my composure?

--

page 47:

 Takano: Even when it was just that the guy knew things about those ten years of yours that I didn’t, I was pissed. Why did it have to be at this time, another moment in which I wasn’t there, that you were confessed to?

[E-even if you say that]

Takano: …

Even though I’ve resolved myself to waiting for you, I can still get worried.

So. How many more times do I have to hold you for you to finally belong to me?  (t/n also could be read as how many times do we have to sleep together for you to finally belong to me.)

--

page 48:

 Takano: Ritsu. I love you.

So, hurry up and give your full self to me

.

--

page 49:

 mouth mouth

RItsu: Haaa

Tremble

Ritsu: Ha

Ritsu: Wai-

Drop

RItsu: Ah, ha tremble

Takano: You’re so warm.

bite

--

page 50:

 glub glub

Ritsu: hah hah

 --

page 51:

 Ritsu: Hah, hah hah

suckle suckle suckle, kiss kiss kiss

RItsu: Ta-takano san! (hahh)

Liiiick

Takano: What?

Ritsu: It’s – it’s already…

If you contin…ue…

!!

Mouth

Jolt

 --

page 52:

 Ritsu: Ahh!!

Ritsu (thought): Ah. Because there is a layer of cloth between us, I feel like, somehow, it’s not enough.

Fondle fondle, grope, grope

Takano: Is it uncomfortable?

RItsu: (hahh) I-it…

Takano: Do you want to get off?

Ritsu: Didn’t I just tell you to stop these leading questions?

Takano: And didn’t I just tell you to give your full self to me?

Ritsu: Hah. Hah.

 --

page 53:

 RItsu: ……

…. It’s too embarrassing. Please don’t look.

 --

page 54:

 RItsu: Ah, ah. Ah ah.

Thrust thrust thrust

Takano’s thoughts: Ahhh…. Feels great.

--

page 55:

thrust hahh

[Right now, what I’m feeling in my heart, it isn’t just old emotions.]

Ritsu (thought): Ah, so deep.

RItsu (thought): Ah. Why does he always touch there….

What should I do… It feels so good.

[There is a sort of feeling that doesn’t solely belong to then, and yet also doesn’t solely belong to now, that is slowly blossoming within my chest.]

Lick

Memory: Are you in love with Saga-sempai?

 --

page 56:

 Takano: Ritsu.

[But to think that this feeling might be “love”?]

thrust

Ritsu: Ah!

turns over

Takano: Man, you’re a mess.

 --

page 57:

 [On the other hand, if this isn’t “love” then what else can it be called?]

Ritsu: Takano san. Hah hah.

[This feeling is slowly building up, and the more it builds up, the stronger it gets.]

[How much longer will it be until I finally escape his hold on me?]

 --

page 58:

 Takano and Onodera: ACHOOO.

Takano: Your greeting?

Ritsu: Good morning!!

Takano: Morning. What, do you have a cold?

Ritsu: NO!

 --

page 59:

 Ritsu (thoughts): It can’t be that I caught Takano-san’s cold. That would suck!!

Sniffle

Ritsu: Takano-san, you’re up early today.

Takano: I have a meeting first thing. (pain in the ass!)

But that means we can head to the office together.

clang clang

Takano: By the way, when I heard you talk about old school memories, I thought of something.

Ritsu: What?

Takano: On my way to school and on my way home from school, you were always following me, no?

 --

page 60:

 Ritsu: Wha-wha-wha- what are you saying? Hahahahahaha.

Takano: Ah, so it’s true.

Ritsu: Why would I do something like that? We went to the same school; of course we took the same route to and from school!

Takano: Well, whatever, it’s an indisputable fact that you were my stalker, though.

Ritsu: Th-that was your imagination. Takano-san, don’t you think that you’re flattering yourself?

Takano: Flattering myself shouldn’t be a problem though. Anyway, it is just around you that it happens.

 --

page 61:

 Ritsu: Huh?!!!

[We will soon be arriving at Fantian Bridge (t/n not sure what the Japanese is here) station.

[Every time I cross over those pink tracks…

Overtime, that street-gate became infamous, and everyone grew to hate it.

But, for me, that street-gate was always a place that I looked forward to.

Because it was there, day after day, that I could see the person I loved.

 --

page 62:

 RItsu: ….

Takano: I’m being watched again… (What the heck is he doing?)

 [Days until Ritsu falls in love (completely): 36.]

 [The end]

REVIEW

Sailor Proof by Annabeth Albert

Shore Leave #1

 What fun this book proved to be! I fell in love with Derrick and Arthur but also with Arthur’s family and the look into what it must be like to be involved with someone in the Navy. I knew that the men on the LST that evacuated us from Lebanon were missing their families, appreciated the effort they made to keep us safe, and thought of them again today while reading this book and realized even more the sacrifices they and their families make every day to do the jobs they do.

 What I liked:

* Derrick Fox: Petty Naval Chief working with sonar in a submarine, orphaned as a youth, raised by his grandmother, the Navy is his career, and he is focused, sweet, kind, gentle, confident, and perfect for Arthur.

* Arthur Euler: musician, different from other family members, fun loving, lives for himself, kind, generous, interesting, perfect for Derrick.

* The Euler family: large, loving, boisterous, competitive, do-gooders, there for on another.

* The look into part of what it might be like to be in the Navy and/or to fall for someone in the Navy.

* The growth of the relationship between Arthur and Derrick

* That the obstacles to overcome were dealt with honestly

* The communication between the couple

* The support of Arthur’s mother

* That the relationship between Derrick and Arthur was healthy and normal and believable

* The family reunion and the activities and situations that occurred there

* All of it really!

 What I didn’t like:

* Can’t think of anything except maybe the undervaluing of Arthur by some of his family.

 Did I enjoy this book? Yes

Would I read more in this series? Yes

 Thank you to NetGalley and Carina Adores for the ARC – This is my honest review.

 5 Stars

   Sailor Proof by Annabeth Albert is available in trade paperback, eBook and audiobook on September 28th!

 The sexy Navy chief and his best friend’s adorkable little brother…

 It’s petty, but Naval Chief Derrick Fox wishes he could exact a little revenge on his ex by showing off a rebound fling. His submarine is due to return to its Bremerton, Washington, home base soon and Derrick knows all too well there won't be anyone waiting with a big, showy welcome.

 Enter one ill-advised plan…

 Arthur Euler is the guy you go to in a pinch—he's excellent at out-of-the-box solutions. It's what the genius music-slash-computer nerd is known for. So when he finds out Derrick needs a favor, he’s happy to help. He can muster the sort of welcome a Naval Chief deserves, no problem at all.

 Except it is a problem. A very big problem.

 When Arthur’s homecoming welcome is a little too convincing, when a video of their gangplank smooch goes enormously viral, they're caught between a dock and a hard place. Neither of them ever expected a temporary fake relationship to look—or feel—so real. And Arthur certainly never considered he'd be fighting for a very much not-fake forever with a military man.

 Add Sailor Proof to your Goodreads!

 Carina Adores is home to highly romantic contemporary love stories featuring beloved romance tropes, where LGBTQ+ characters find their happily-ever-afters. 

 Discover a new Carina Adores book every month!

Meet Me in Madrid by     Verity Lowell (coming October 26)

The Life Revamp by     Kris Ripper (coming November 30)

If You Love Something by     Jayce Ellis (coming December 28)

D’Vaughn and Kris Plan a Wedding     by Chencia C. Higgins (coming January 25)

Sink or Swim     by Annabeth Albert (coming February 22)

 Buy Sailor Proof by Annabeth albert

https://www.harlequin.com/shop/books/9781335984920_sailor-proof.html 

  EXCERPT

Derrick

Arthur turned out hot. That was my first thought when I spotted him after I heard my name called. Derrick. My actual name, not Fox, not Chief, and outside of Calder a couple of times, I hadn’t heard that name in months. And definitely not like that, all eager and excited and happy. On the sub, hearing my name inevitably meant that someone needed something right that minute, but the way Arthur said it didn’t inspire dread at all.

I’d already been caught up in the energy of the day. Homecoming day was always exciting, even if I didn’t usually have someone waiting. The whole crew was jostling about, getting into our dress whites, making sure everything from our cover to the chest candy of ribbons and medals to the gig line was perfectly straight. Getting chosen to be on deck as we came into port was an honor, one that I usually let others, especially those with kids, fight over, since there was still plenty to do belowdecks in preparation and support. As the chief sonar tech, I was responsible for working with the A-gangers from engineering and the operations department to help navigate us in. Adrenaline was contagious, and by the time my department was cleared to disembark, I had enough energy to rival the reactor that powered the sub.

And then I heard my name.

I recognized Arthur’s red hair right away. But the rest…

Wow. Arthur had grown hot. Still shorter than me and skinnier, but wiry now, each lean muscle defined under a thin white shirt and tight jeans. No signs of his ever-present too-big nerd-humor tees. Same startling green eyes as before, though, and a new, more chiseled jaw sporting the perfect amount of fuzz. He’d grown into his long regal nose, and the hair that had seemed to have a life of its own when he’d been a teen was sculpted now, this perfectly styled wave that made me want to mess it up. His hands, which had always seemed too big for the rest of him, were clutching a giant sign.

For me.

And for a second—a literal instant when our eyes met and time stopped—I forgot it wasn’t real. And in that moment, I wanted it to be. Someone smiling that broadly for me. Had Steve ever been so happy to see me? Hell, I wasn’t even sure the poodle my grandmother had let me keep had been that happy. Arthur just radiated pure joy. The kid was one hell of an actor.

“Welcome home.” Even his voice was different. Deeper. Sexier.

“Hey,” I said because I was simply that brilliant at conver­sation. I reached an arm out, instinctively going for a hand­shake, but Arthur shifted his sign and met me partway, coming in for a hug.

A really tight hug.

Damn, he felt good. Amazing really. Solid muscle against me, hair tickling my nose, exactly as silky as it looked, strong arms able to haul me in and hold me tight. He smelled like mint and green tea, two things in short supply on a boat that tended to smell like old socks on a good day. Sweet. I inhaled deeply as his lips brushed my ear.

“Calder said to kiss you,” he whispered. “And I want to. But you gotta tell me you’re good with that first.”

Was I good with that? Hot guy who smelled like a concoction I wanted to drink every day for a month wanted to kiss me. And ordinarily, the friendship code would put Arthur far, far off-limits, but here was Calder telling us to kiss. It was a free pass, the sort I’d be a fool to turn down.

I wasn’t a fool.

And what harm could a peck do?

“Yeah.” My voice was a rough whisper, and I didn’t have a chance to brace myself before Arthur was sliding his mouth over from my ear to mouth. A double shot of tequila would have had less punch than the first brush of contact.

And okay, not a peck.

We were kissing. Arthur and I, which should have been weird but somehow wasn’t. At all. Someone whooped behind us, but almost all of my attention was riveted on Arthur, like I was on watch and every sense was heightened lest I miss something vital.

Like how soft his lips were. Full too. Or the bristle of his scruff against my cheek. I’d done a submarine shave that morn­ing, not my best job, but close enough that the rasp of beard felt electric. Our chests were pressed so tightly that I could feel his heart pounding. Or maybe that was mine, blood zooming to places that had been in deep freeze for months.

“Wow.” Arthur pulled back, leaving me dazed and still clinging to him.

“Damn.” The statuesque purple-haired woman he’d been standing with laughed loudly and thumped Arthur’s shoul­der. “Is that the best you can do? Your man has been at sea how many months?”

Your man. If only. If he were actually mine, we’d be racing across base, a mad dash to find a room with a door. But he wasn’t and all we’d ever have was this moment. A potent mix of want and resolve raced through me as suddenly I was determined to make this count.

I pulled him back to me, and this time when our mouths collided, I was ready. Ready to taste. Ready to absorb every single detail. Ready to seize control and kiss like the world might be ending.

And it could have. Not sure I would have noticed. Everything faded away. The crowd. The docks. The balloons Arthur had been clutching and his sign both as his strong hands clung to my shoulders as we kissed in earnest. He tasted like he smelled, sweet and minty, and his tongue against mine was like floodlights coming on.

“Welcome home,” Arthur breathed against my mouth as the sound of applause gradually pulled me back into awareness of our surroundings. Applause. Whoops of laughter. Clicking cameras. But still I couldn’t seem to look away from him.

About Annabeth Albert

Annabeth Albert grew up sneaking romance novels under the bed covers. Now, she devours all subgenres of romance out in the open—no flashlights required! When she’s not adding to her keeper shelf, she’s a Pacific Northwest romance writer of many critically acclaimed and fan-favorite LGBTQ romance series.  To find out more, check out: www.annabethalbert.com. The fan group, Annabeth’s Angels, on Facebook is also a great place for bonus content.

 Connect with Annabeth Albert

Website: https://www.annabethalbert.com/ 

Facebook Fan Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/annabethsangels 

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AnnabethAlbert 

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/annabeth_albert/ 

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6477494.Annabeth_Albert 

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Annabeth-Albert/e/B00LYFFAZK 

Christmas Without You (Poly!hamilsquad x reader)

A/N: Heres a christmas request just under the wire! I hope you’ve all had a very Merry Christmas! i hope you enjoy!

Request: Polyhamilsquad x reader where you all live in a loft together and this is the first year since you all moved in together that you don’t celebrate Christmas together because you have to visit family for the holidays and the boys a very sad because they miss you. You surprise them the day before Christmas.

  Christmas. Your favorite holiday, the most wonderful time of the year. Christmas was always nice for you, but since you met the boys it got even better. Celebrating with them was the most fun you had ever had. Gilbert would bake cookies. All. December. Long. Not that any of you minded he was an amazing baker, everything he made was delicious. You loved helping him decorate cookies, sometimes he would stand behind you and ‘help’ you with the sugar cookies, but you didn’t mind at all.

Hercules would knit you all hats, gloves, and scarves every year. Each year it had it different design unique to the each of you and you all loved them. He was also the best at giving presents. He somehow always got you something you loved, but never even thought to ask for. He was king at gift giving, but you all still tried to get him something spectacular every year.

John loved decorating the tree. It was his favorite part. He was chief tree decorator, he would even sketch out how he wanted it look. It was always beautiful. You two would pick out the tree together, always hand in hand and running excitedly through the selection, while your lovers watched with love and admiration at your excitement. You would take his sketch with you to find the tree that fit his Christmas vision. When you did find it, you would jump up and down together, and John would always spin you around and kiss you.

Alex was a present snooping fiend. You had to keep him from looking for them before they were wrapped, and then from trying to figure out what he got once they were under the tree. “Just let me see one! Please babe, come on!” You would always reply with a laugh and a firm “No, Alexander.” He always wrote each of you a letter along with your gifts. He had a great memory, so he would write about all the things you did throughout the year that made him love you more. You and Gil always cried.

Christmas was full of wonderful traditions and lots of love, and that’s why the boys moped around sadly as you packed your suitcase. You were all in the bedroom, the four of them on the bed, while you were going back and forth from the closet and the dresser.

“I really wish you didn’t have to go,” John mumbled sadly, making small circles on the comforter.

“We all do,” Alex said, looking up at you with sad eyes.

“I know, I wish I didn’t have to either, but my sister just had a baby and she wants me to meet her and my aunts going to be in town, and my mom wouldn’t stop bothering me about it,” you look at each of them imploringly, asking them to understand.

Your mother had not let up this year, she had been relentless with phone calls, texts, and even emails just pestering you about coming home for Christmas. It’s not that you didn’t love your family, of course you did, it was just that they weren’t exactly accepting of the love you had found with your boys. They didn’t understand, which you understood, you just wish they could accept it. You had the most trouble with your mother, your sister was pretty supportive though she didn’t fully understand the situation, she just wanted you to be happy. Your mother on the other hand had been upset when you told her, not so nice things were said and that was the first year you didn’t go home for Christmas and you hadn’t been back for four years.

“Is your mom going to be nice to you?” Herc asks, looking worried.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I’m really only going for my sister.”

“Just remember how much we love you, mon ange,” Gil looks at you worriedly and lovingly as he takes your hand in his.

You smile softly at him and caress his cheek, placing a soft kiss on his lips.

“I promise, I will.”

“Are you giving out kisses?” Alex asks with a serious look. “Because if you are, I want to be next.” He smirks at you and you cracked a smile.

“I always have kisses for you, love,” you smile, climbing on the bed slightly to place a soft kiss to his lips.

As you pull away from Alex, John grabs you around the waist.

“Me next!” He shouts, as he pulls you down on the bed.

“Jackie!” You squeal out as he peppers your face with kisses.

He smiles down at you, before placing a languid kiss on your lips. He pulled away with a smirk at your blissed out expression, before Herc pulled you into his arms. You giggled as your arms instantly went around his neck.

“And me, cupcake?” He smiles at you with raised eyebrows.

“Of course I have one for you, darling!”

You smile, rubbing your nose against his and kissing him tenderly as he held you close. You pulled away with a smile. He jumped on the bed with you in his arms and soon you were surrounded by your other lovers in a pile of arms and legs. You reveled in the moment, with the people you loved most in a pile of love and you almost started to cry. You held back your tears, not wanting to upset them further. They were already sad and you refused to make it worse.

You laid there with your lovers for a little bit, before knowing you had to finish packing if you were going to make your flight.

“My loves,” you spoke up, “I need to finish packing.”

They all stilled a moment at the mention of your leaving, before detangling and letting you up. You finished packing your things with Herc, while the other boys went to the kitchen.

“Did you pack extra just in case, princess?”

“I sure did.” You nodded at him with a smile.

He looked into your suitcase, he paused, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Is that my shirt?”

You blushed, you were hoping you would be gone before they noticed, but no such luck.

“Yeah…” You dragged out.

“Do you just have my shirt in here?” He asks you, with an amused smile.

“I may have taken a shirt from each of you to sleep in?” You bite your lip nervously as you look up at him.

He smiles at you lovingly before pulling you into his arms and kissing the top of your head.

“Its fine, princess,” he nuzzles your hair, “in fact it’s really sweet, it let’s us know you’ll miss us.”

“Of course, I’ll miss you.” You pull away looking up at him, lightly touching his cheek. “I love you all more than anything.”

“We love you so much, princess.” He rests his forehead against yours, just breathing and taking you in.

“Everything okay?” John knocks on the door frame.

“Yeah,” you smile at him, pulling away from Hercules and zipping up your suitcase.

“We made you lunch, so you wouldn’t have to eat airport food.” John joked lightly, even though the thought of you leaving made him ache.

“Thank you, baby.” You walk over to him, kissing him sweetly with a smile.

He took your hand in his as you walked to the living room, Herc entering behind you, holding your suitcase. Gil holds a brown paper bag in his hand with a small smile, that you returned. All together you went to the airport, you had told them you could go on your own, but they were adamant about seeing you off.

You all arrived at the airport and knowing they couldn’t follow further, you all stood together wanting to put off the inevitable. When you knew you couldn’t wait any longer you turned to Gil, who was right next to you.

“I have to go,” you whisper, looking up at him, not able to hide the sadness in your eyes.

He pulls you into his arms, squeezing you tightly kissing your hair, then your lips, trying hard to keep his tears at bay. You went to each of your loves, saying goodbye much the same as you did with Gilbert. John buried his face in your neck breathing in your scent, Alex kissed your forehead softly, lightly brushing your nose with his. Hercules kissed your head, nuzzling your hair, and kissed you longingly. When you pulled away, you took your suitcase from Herc, smiling sadly, but trying hard to hold it together.

“I love you,” you looked at each of them with a slightly happier smile.

“We love you, mon ange.”

“I’ll be back before you know it.” You lightly chuckle. “You won’t even have time to miss me.” You smile.

“Too late, baby girl,” John gives you a smirk.

You laugh breathily, blowing each of them a kiss and turning away as a tear rolled down your cheek. You shook your head at yourself. You were being silly, you would only be gone for five days. You’d be back before you knew it.

Torture, pure torture. You hated being away from your boys. Everything reminded you of them. Everything. You had to constantly keep yourself from crying. The only saving grace was your sister and your little niece. She was adorable and you loved her dearly. Between missing your loves and keeping yourself from crying, you enjoyed spending time with your niece and your sister.

It was Christmas Eve and you were becoming more miserable by the minute. You kept thinking about what you did with your boys on Christmas Eve. Making cookies with Gil, drinking Hercs famous hot cocoa, listening to Alex read The Night Before Christmas, and dancing to Christmas songs with John. Then, after everything was settled watching Christmas movies together, waiting for midnight to strike to open that one present.

“I’ll be home for Christmas, you can plan on me…”

The lyrics crooned out over the radio in your room, and your heart clenched. You held back years as you wrapped presents for your family, and thinking of the ones you loved most back home.

“Christmas eve will find me, where the love light gleams. I’ll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams.”

A small tear rolled down your cheek and you wiped it away, one more day and you would be home. You taped the last corner of the present you were wrapping when the next song started.

“Greeting cards have all been sent, the Christmas rush is through, but I still have one wish to make, a special one for you…”

Were you being personally attacked by the universe? You already missed your boys so much it was killing you, but still you couldn’t bring yourself to shut off the radio. You pulled the next gift towards you and wrapping it.

“Merry Christmas, darling. Happy New Year, too. I’ve just one wish on this Christmas eve, I wish I were with you..”

You wiped tears away as you finished up, and tried to take deep breaths. You fell back on the floor, letting tears fall down the sides of your face. You turned your head, seeing your suitcase under the bed. You sat up quickly, grabbing your suitcase and filling it with all of your belongings.

You couldn’t wait a whole other day, you had to see your loves and nothing was going to stop you. You dressed quickly, and rushed down stairs. You placed the gifts under the tree, and left a note for your family, who just happened to be out at the perfect time. You called a cab and made your way to the airport. Damn straight you would be home for Christmas.

Torture, pure torture. The days without you were awful, the boys missed you dearly. Sure they had each other, but without you they didn’t feel complete. The bed didn’t feel as welcoming or warm, the tree lights simmed dim and the decorations looked faded. None of them were in the holiday spirit, try as they might. They still did everything they usually did, but it wasn’t the same.

It was Christmas Eve and their hearts felt heaviest today. John watched as Gil made the cookies you so loved to do with him. John fiddled with the radio, feeling lost without you to dance to Christmas songs with.

“I’ll have a blue Christmas without you, I’ll be so blue  just thinking about you. Decorations of red on a green Christmas tree, won’t be the same dear, if you’re not here with me.”

“That’s fitting,” Alex mumbles, taking a sip of his cocoa.

“Come on, mon cher, we’ll see her soon.” Gil tried to cheer up his lovers, though his words didn’t even comfort himself.

“She should be here now,” he replied, in an angry pout.

“Change the station, please babe.” Herc pleaded with John, his heart heavy enough without sad Christmas songs making it worse.

John nods and changes the station.

“Bells will be ringing the sad, sad news. Oh, what a Christmas to have the blues. My baby’s gone…”

Herc sighed heavily, Gil paused in his decorating, Alex put his head down, staring at his cocoa, and Johns eyes started to water.

“Please come home for Christmas, if not for Christmas by New Years night..”

“I miss her,” John whispers as he leans into Alex.

“We all do, love.” Alex holds John close, wiping away his tears.

“She shouldn’t have gone,” Herc mumbles.

“Mon couer,” Gil halfheartedly chides.

“We’re her family,” he says turning to Gil, tears in his eyes, “she should be here with us.”

Gil hugs him close, John and Alex following, becoming a huddle.

“So won’t you tell me, you’ll never more roam. Christmas and new years will find you home…”

Alex pulls away when he hears keys in the door. The other boys pull away when they hear the door open. They all look at each other hopefully, before rushing out to the living room to see you standing in the door way, with a smile on your face.

“I missed my family for Christmas,” you say smiling with tears in your eyes. “I missed you so much.”

They all run to you instantly. Gil is the first to reach you, holding you close and kissing your hard and passionate. Alex is the next to have you in his arms, peppering kisses all over your face, before kissing you firmly. Herc lifts you up in his arms, kissing your neck, cheek and forehead before placing a lovingly kiss on your lips. John is the last to hold you, burying his face in your neck and breathing in deep, before kissing you with all he had.

“Don’t ever leave us again,” he whispers, leaning his forehead on yours.

You shake your head, tears still falling, but in relief to be the ones you loved.

“Never,” you kiss his nose. “Never again.”

Your lovers huddle around you, wanting to be as close to you as possible.

“There’ll be no more sorrow, no grief and pain, and I’ll be happy, happy once again..”

You pulled away slightly, smiling at each of them.

“Is there any hot cocoa left?”

Herc smiles brightly and picks you up, making you giggle.

“Of course there is, princess,” he kisses your temple.

You help Gil with the cookies and when he stands behind you to help you with a design, you can’t help but turn your head back to place kisses on his neck and chin and nuzzle him lightly. You sit on the counter drinking your hot cocoa and smiling at Herc all the while. John takes you from them and you dance around the living room together. Alex had you in his lap as he read The Night Before Christmas, and you snuggled in close kissing his nose when he started and finished the story.

You felt complete and happy when you all settled in on the sofa, snuggled close and under blankets, watching Christmas movies as you waited for midnight. You were snuggled in between John and Gil, happily. You checked the time a little while later.

“Its midnight, my loves,” you smile. “Shall we open a present?”

“You are our present, love,” Alex says, looking at you lovingly with a gentle smile.

“What a coincidence you’re all mine.”

You head to bed a little bit later, you kiss each other goodnight and cuddle together. You snuggle into Hercules, Alex resting behind you. You pull away from Hercules for a moment.

“This has been the most wonderful Christmas eve.” You whisper to him, your other lovers sound asleep.

“Just wait til we wake up later, cupcake,” he winks at you, making you giggle softly. “Merry Christmas, princess,” he says kissing your nose.

“Merry Christmas.”

The Maggie Simpson Show E1913 Maggie’s Birthday Party at Chuck-Up-Cheese Rated 15 warning contains mild nudity if you are  easily offended please do not read

INT, MAGGIE’S BEDROOM-DAY

Maggie has just got up she is wearing her pink Pajamas and looking at herself in the mirror.

MAGGIE

Hello, welcome to the Maggie Simpson Show, today is a very special day you want to know what it is?

Maggie gets a party noise maker and blows it.

MAGGIE

That’s right, Happy Birthday to me, I am six years old a big number I’m going to take a shower while I do that why don’t you go and see what the others are up to!

In the simpsons kitchen Marge is making Maggie a special breakfast since it is her birthday.

HOMER

Why the hell does she get to have as special breakfast all I get is pancakes!

MARGE

You wanted pancakes!

HOMER

(ANNOYED GRUNT)

Then Maggie enters the room and takes her place at the table she is now wearing her normal clothes Marge gives her a special breakfast.

MARGE

A Special breakfast for the birthday girl!

MAGGIE

Thanks Mom!

LISA

Happy Birthday Maggie!, and here is a card!

Maggie opens it and she sees Lisa has gives her five Dollars.

MAGGIE

Thank you Lisa!

Bart gives her his card.

BART

Happy Birthday Mags!

She opens the card and it says your my sister and I love you from Bart

MAGGIE

Thanks Bart!

HOMER

and tonight we will be taking Maggie somewhere special!

MAGGIE

Cool!, can’t wait till I come home from school!

EXT, PLAYGROUND-DAY

Maggie is accepting birthday cards from her friends when Joanne walks up to her.

JOANNE

Happy Birthday Maggie!

She gives her a card she opens it and its a homemade card.

JOANNE

I made this for you!

MAGGIE

Thanks Joanne, its really um nice!

JOANNE

Glad you like it I spent hours making that just for you I missed TV time and everything, oh well see you later Maggie!

Joanne walks away from them but Maggie doesn’t like the card Joanne made.

MAGGIE

This card stinks you guys but I can’t tell Joanne that it will make her cry and I don’t want to do that!

LILLY

Yeah, I totally understand that Maggie!

JUDITH

So do I!

SKYE

If someone said to me Skye!, I hate that card you made I’d just cry and cry and cry till I couldn’t cry anymore!

MAGGIE

Skye, I love your card!

SKYE

Thank you Maggie!

MAGGIE

There is a surprise party somewhere tonight and your all invited!

In the kindergarten Mr Johnson is telling them about a classroom party for Maggie

JOHNSON

And since it is Maggie’s birthday I’ll go to the store and buy a cake and some party food but for now I think we should do what Maggie wants to do!

LILLY

This isn’t going to involve paint is it?

Maggie looks at Lilly smiles

LILLY

Oh for godsake!

In the painting area later the kids are now barefoot accept for Lilly they are playing in the paint and are enjoying.

SKYE

Don’t like this, don’t like this, don’t like this!

MAGGIE

Oh come on Skye its fun!

SKYE

If you say so Maggie!

EMMA

I do this for you Maggie, but I despise this activity!

LILLY

Not mine either but I’m not taking off my socks no way!

SKYE

I can understand why it is kind of sticky!

Skye looks at her own feet.

SKYE

Eww!

FADE TO LATER IN THE KINDERGARTEN

The Kids are now wearing their shoes and socks again and are sitting at a table that is decorated for a party Mr Johnson has put a cake on the table with six candles and a buffet of party food at the other side of the classroom.

JOHNSON

I think now we should sing Happy Birthday to Maggie but I’ll light the candles first!

Mr Johnson lights the candles Gerald makes a rude comment about Maggie

GERALD

Do we have to sing to her?

SKYE

I’m going to sing even though I have been told I sound like a cat on a hot tin roof!

JOHNSON

After three one two three!

They all sing happy birthday to Maggie then they all cheer Maggie blows out the candles then Principal Skinner walks in the room.

SKINNER

Eric!, what is going on in here?

JOHNSON

Seymour!, Its Maggie Simpson’s birthday so I decided to have a classroom party for her!

GERALD

Just remembered it is my birthday too you see me and Maggie were born on the same day we’re not twins or anything we just share a birthday!

MAGGIE

Oh Yeah, Happy Birthday Gerald!

SKINNER

Eric, the point is no parties in the classroom without permission from me!

He leaves the room.

JOHNSON

Lets continue are party!

MAGGIE

But principal Skinner said we couldn’t have a party!

JOHNSON

One thing I don’t do is let people tell me what I can have and what I can’t have!

MAGGIE

You know what Mr Johnson, I think I like you!

Mr Johnson smiles at Maggie

later that evening The Simpsons are in Homer’s car he is driving them to Maggie’s surprise party Maggie is wearing a blindfold so she can’t see where they are.

MAGGIE

Anyone know where we’re going?

HOMER

All will be revealed sweetie!

Then they arrive and Homer knocks a car out of the handicapped space.

LISA

Dad!, that was the handicapped space!

HOMER

Anyway!, here we are!

Maggie takes off her blindfold and she sees Homer has taken her to Chuck-Up-Cheese!

MAGGIE

Wow Dad!, Chuck-Up-Cheese!

HOMER

Well, its your Day sweetie Happy birthday!

Inside Chuck-Up-Cheese a mouse greats them.

MOUSE

Welcome to Chuck-up-cheese!, my name is chuck I hope you enjoy your time with us!

MAGGIE

Thank you Chuck!

MOUSE

Let me show you to your table!

They are seated at their table and Chuck brings their food.

CHUCK

Here you go!

MAGGIE

Thank you Chuck!

Maggie’s friends are sitting at the same table including Joanne

MAGGIE

Any of you guys want to play in the ballpool?

LILLY

Isn’t that the thing where you can lose your socks?

MAGGIE

It can happen!, come on lets have fun!

They arrive at the ballpool Maggie sees a sign that says Due to costumers losing their socks in the ballpool please remove your socks before getting in signed Chuck the mouse!

LILLY

If I have to do that I’m not doing the ballpool!

SKYE

Lilly!, you have to rules are rules!

LILLY

Alright!, Alright!, but I don’t like doing this!

They all remove their shoes and socks and get in the ballpool.

MAGGIE

WOO-HOO!, this is fun, uh oh!

Maggie sinks to the bottom.

MAGGIE

Too Many balls!, too many Balls!, too many!

She comes up gasping for air

MAGGIE

Balls!

A woman heard Maggie say balls and gets the wrong idea about it.

WOMAN

Well, how rude!

Back at the table and her friends are now wearing shoes and socks again and now having the party with Chuck the mouse.

CHUCK

Okay, time for the show!

They all face the stage a mouse walks over to Maggie

MOUSE

I hear its someone’s birthday today!

MAGGIE

Yes, its mine!

MOUSE

Come on join us on the stage and we’ll sing the birthday song!

Maggie gets on stage and the mouse makes her sit in a chair.

MOUSE

Okay, everyone lets sing the birthday song!, its your birthday today and your celebrating it here at Chuck-up Cheese!

They all cheer Maggie stands up grabs the microphone and gets carried away.

MOUSE

Oh I almost forgot!

He gets a cream cake and pushes it in Maggie’s face.

MOUSE

Happy Birthday!

Everyone laughs at Maggie but Maggie is not laughing she very angry.

She turns to the mouse and kicks him where you shouldn’t kick.

MAGGIE

Serves you right Mr Mouse, everyone lets riot!

All the kids riot and tear the place apart then Chef Wiggum lou and Eddie turn up.

WIGGIUM

Alright men, sort out the kids!

LOU

Right chief!

They arrest Maggie for causing the riot.

MAGGIE

Hey, its my birthday you know!

WIGGIUM

You’re under arrest Simpson!, you can spend the remainder of your birthday in a cell!

INT, SPRINGFIELD COURT-DAY

Maggie is standing in front of Judge Harm and Judge Harm is not very happy with Maggie

MAGGIE

Let me just say I am really sorry!

HARM

People usually are when they come in front of me, Causing a riot at Chuck-Up-Cheese?

MAGGIE

That mouse pied me in the face what do you expect me to do?

HARM

You should have gone along with the fun!

MAGGIE

I was going along with the fun!, it stopped being fun when I got pied in the face I hate getting pied in the face!

Maggie has a meltdown right there Judge Harm doesn’t understand what she is seeing so she holds Maggie in contempt

HARM

Miss Simpson!, for your outburst I hold you in contempt!

MAGGIE

Shut up!

In the detention cells Maggie is in a cell alone but Maggie doesn’t care the court worker comes up to her.

MAN

You know all you have to do is apologize to the judge!

Maggie gives him a look.

MAN

But that’s not for everybody, just think about what I said!

Maggie sits in her cell and thinks.

MAGGIE

Hmm, I was kind of rude to the judge so maybe I should apologize!

Back in the courtroom Maggie is standing in front of the Judge.

MAGGIE

Judge Harm!, I am really sorry for getting all angry I do have autism!

HARM

I guess I can let you off the hook, but the Chuck-up-cheese incident I cannot let you off Maggie Simpson!, I sentence you to community service!

MAGGIE

this community service where will it be?

INT, SPRINGFIELD RETIREMENT CASTLE-DAY

Maggie is talking to her grandpa in his room.

ABE

and then I shot the germans that very night!

MAGGIE

During WW2 right?

ABE

Sure Sweetheart!, anyway we had just shot some Germans but Adolf Hitler was still at large and we never saw where he went to!

MAGGIE

Good story Grandpa but right now I need the bathroom!

Maggie exits the room a few minutes later she returned to her grandpa.

ABE

Maggie!, did you find the bathroom okay?

MAGGIE

Yes thank you Grandpa do we get lunch around here?

ABE

Sure but its all mush!

MAGGIE

Eww!, that sounds disgusting, I’ll take you to a place that serves good food!

ABE

I don’t think I’m allowed to leave the home!

MAGGIE

Come on Grandpa you’ll love it!

She grabs his hand and drags him along with her.

INT, KEN’S CHICKEN-DAY

Maggie and Abe are making their orders on the machine Maggie is showing Abe how to do it.

MAGGIE

you select your order on here then you pay with your card like this!

Maggie puts her card on the machine and she waits for her order.

FADE TO LATER IN KEN’S CHICKEN

Maggie and Abe are eating what they have ordered and Abe likes it.

ABE

This is a lot better then what we get in the home!

MAGGIE

Told you you’d like it!

ABE

Well you helped me and for that I want to get you something and you are my granddaughter as well!

MAGGIE

Well I could do with some more soda!

ABE

Okay Sweetie!

He brings her soda to the table but Abe trips and spills it all over Maggie, Maggie is wet from head to toe Maggie is not happy she gets very Angry and has a massive Meltdown.

MAGGIE

(MELTDOWN) Ahhhh you horrible old man you wet my clothes!

Back at thew home

Maggie is now wearing a towel because her clothes are wet.

ABE

Maggie, I’m sorry I wet your clothes!

MAGGIE

Not as sorry as I am, don’t talk to me!

Maggie turns her back on Abe.

ABE

Maggie!

MAGGIE

I said don’t talk to me I’m waiting for my Dad to pick me up!

INT, THE SIMPSONS LIVING ROOM-DAY

Maggie is sitting on the couch now wearing her normal clothes then Homer gives her a package addressed to her.

HOMER

Maggie, this just came in the mail for you!

She takes the package from Homer opens it inside is a Zimz 4 gift card with a letter, Maggie reads the letter screws it up and throws it in the waste paper basket.

MAGGIE

I’ll take the game but I’m not forgiving the old bastard!

HOMER

Why what did he do?

MAGGIE

(ANGRY) What did he do?, What did he do?, he only spilled soda all over me but he did let me have a shower in the home so wasn’t all bad I guess!

HOMER

So you forgive him?

MAGGIE

No, but I’ll think about it!

She gets up from the couch and goes upstairs to her room then Lisa enters the room she sits next to Homer on the couch.

LISA

Do you want me to have a word with her Dad?

HOMER

Yeah okay but don’t let her know you’re doing it for me!

In Maggie’s bedroom Maggie is playing her game When Lisa enters the room.

LISA

Maggie, can I talk to you for a minute?

Maggie gets up from her chair and walks towards Lisa

LISA

Dad told me all about the problem with grandpa I know he spilled soda on you he is trying to make it up to you that’s why he bought you this game and he doesn’t have much left time left for this world!

MAGGIE

Alright, I’ll go to the home and make up with him!

Lisa smiles at Maggie

INT, SPRINGFIELD RETIREMENT CASTLE-EVENING

Maggie is asking the nurse where her grandpa is

MAGGIE

Hi, have you seen my grandpa Abe Simpson!

NURSE

Yeah I think he’s in the TV Room I’ll take you to him!

In the TV room Maggie is standing in front of her Grandpa

MAGGIE

Grandpa, its me Maggie!

ABE

Hi Sweetie you’ve come to see you’re old grandpa!

MAGGIE

Yes, I do forgive you for spilling soda on me and I’m sorry for getting really mad I just can’t help that due to my autism and I bought you a box of your favorite candy old Toffee!

Abe stands up and they both hug

ABE

Oh not so rough my bones are weak!

MAGGIE

Sorry Grandpa!

ABE

You can stay the night if you want I’ll call that father of yours and tell him your staying here tonight!

MAGGIE

Won’t the nurses mind me staying here?

ABE

I don’t care what some snooty nurse says, do what your told take  your medication!

MAGGIE

Well that’s okay then!, but I don’t have my pajamas!

ABE

Pajamas?, when I was your age we slept in our underwear no pajamas in my day dag nabbit!

MAGGIE

Well I’ve always fancied sleeping naked and I do when my Dad isn’t looking!

ABE

Okay Maggie I’ll take you up to the room and I’ll call your Dad from there!

Abe takes Maggie up to his room, once there Maggie sees only one bed.

MAGGIE

Grandpa! There is only one bed!

ABE

I’ll give you a blanket and a pillow and you can sleep on the floor best I can offer you!

MAGGIE

Guess it will have to do, well I’m off for a shower where’s your bathroom?

Abe takes her to it by opening a door.

ABE

There’s soap and a towel in there enjoy your shower!

Maggie goes in and closes the door then Abe picks up a very old phone and calls Homer

ABE

Homer, Maggie is staying with me tonight I know you want here home but she wants to stay the night with her old grandpa yes I’ll bring her round in the morning goodnight!

Then Maggie comes out of the bathroom carrying her clothes and wearing a towel.

ABE

Hey sweetie, do you feel better now after your shower?

MAGGIE

Yes thank you Grandpa!

ABE

you want to watch TV?

MAGGIE

Sure!

He turns it on but it doesn’t work.

ABE

(ANGRY) Dag Nabbit!

MAGGIE

Nevermind Grandpa we can just talk!

ABE

Alright!, I’ll tell you another war story during WW2-

MAGGIE

please Grandpa no more war stories, I’ll tell you about my day at school!

Maggie tells him about her day at school.

FADE TO LATER

MAGGIE

And that was my day at school!

She sees Abe is asleep in the chair.

MAGGIE

Well time for bed then!

She sees that there is no blanket or pillow on the floor

MAGGIE

Well I’ll have to sleep in Grandpa’s bed he won’t mind!

Maggie stands at the bed with her back to the camera she takes off her towel and gets in bed.

MAGGIE

Ah time for sleep!

She turns out the light

the next morning Maggie is still asleep in Abe’s bed Abe has gone down for breakfast  he brings some up for Maggie and wakes her up.

ABE

Here you go sweetie, Breakfast!

Maggie wakes up

MAGGIE

Thanks Grandpa!

Maggie sits up in bed and eats her breakfast.

Then a nurse comes in

NURSE

Mr Simpson!, we don’t allow visitors to stay the night she has to leave!

ABE

She’s going back to her dad’s today!

NURSE

Well that’s okay then!

She leaves the room.

MAGGIE

Think I’d better take a shower after breakfast!

ABE

Alright!

Maggie finishes her breakfast gets out of bed and doesn’t realize she’s naked and Abe sees all.

ABE

(SPLUTTERS) Put on a towel Maggie!, we don’t want to see that!

MAGGIE

Oh!, sorry grandpa!

Maggie grabs her towel and puts round her then she goes in the bathroom.

ABE

Damn little ingrate!

INT, MAGGIE’S BEDROOM-NIGHT

Maggie is sitting on her bed wearing her Pajamas she is talking to the viewers watching.

MAGGIE

Hello Again, in this weeks episode I had a birthday party at Chuck up cheese I got carried away and lost it with a mouse who pied me in the face and for that I am really sorry viewers, see you next time!

FADE TO CREDITS

NELLIE’S DINER, VIRGINIA

The large round clock hanging on the outdated walls of the diner was reading eleven minutes past ten. Monday was drawing closer to an end as the darkness of the night had taken over, stars replacing the array of pastel colours from the sunset that had graced the sky less than an hour ago.

The diner was occupied with just a few souls, which was surprising considering the time of night, but it was quiet enough that Saige Moore was able to slip relatively unnoticed in a booth, in one of the far corners of the establishment.

A romantic novel was sat comfortably in the lap of Saige, which would have appeared unusual for anyone who once knew the woman, but within the last six months this was now a regular occurrence for her. No matter where she was or what she was doing, a novel would usually be found in her hands.

A steaming mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows was perched on the table in front of her, which was yet another unusual aspect for Saige. It sat forgotten about as she became too engrossed in the words of her novel, the world around her no longer existing as all her senses temporarily shut down.

Even when the chime above the door jingled signalling that someone had entered the diner, the only person that hadn’t acknowledged it was Saige. Although in her defence not much noise was being made in the first place, only the small murmurs of the waitresses behind the counter as they engaged in small chatter.

The woman who had just entered Nellie’s Diner stood not too far from the door she came through, scanning the few faces of the customers to find a familiar face. After a double take of the blonde woman sat in the far corner, the older woman was surprised to see how much had changed with her former colleague.

The dark-haired woman, dressed in a black pantsuit with her large bag balancing on her shoulder, strolled over towards Saige realising that she was consumed in her own little world. Whether it was the clonking of her heeled ankle boots or just the presence of a person moving towards her, Saige had returned back to reality regaining all her senses back.

Saige lifted her head from her book and instantly locked eyes with the woman standing before her. Without another second passing, a warm, small smile formed on her lips which was reciprocated by her old friend. “Emily Prentiss.”

Closing her book and gently throwing it onto the table, the blonde shuffled out of the booth and immediately enveloped Emily into a warm hug. It had been forever since the two had seen each other, and it was a very pleasant change to see someone so familiar for Saige after so long of being alone.

Emily was the first to pull away from the embrace. “You have no idea how great it is to see you, Saige Moore.”

Up close, Saige had noticed the dark circles that lay heavy underneath her friends eyes, and the way that she carried herself just screamed exhausted. Concern had begun to bubble inside of Saige, and she wondered if the stress Emily was most definitely feeling, had something to do with the fact that her former colleague had asked her to return to Virginia.

“It’s nice to see you too, Em.” She made movements to shuffle back into the booth. “Can you believe its been five years since we last saw each other?”

Emily followed suit and shuffled in opposite Saige. “Wow,” She breathed out, “I guess that makes sense since it was at JJ and Will’s wedding. Right before I moved to London to work for Interpol.”

“Seems like forever ago.” Saige mused as she watched her friend get comfortable. “But now you’re the Unit Chief at the BAU? I have so many questions there.” She lightly chuckled before taking a sip of her beverage.

The edges of Emily’s lips twitched upwards slightly. “I’m sure you do. So much has gone on recently, I don’t even know where to begin.”

Saige noticed the tone Emily was using. She also noticed all the little traits that she was showing. Being an ex-profiler had its perks, since she could tell almost immediately that her dear friend was stressed and over-worked. She was tired, that much was evident, but was the BAU really in that much of a state that she needed to contact Saige?

She leaned back in her seat and crossed her leg over the other. “Well, it’s always best to start from the beginning, right?” Saige smirked.

Emily smiled, just enough to see her pearly whites. “That would make sense.” She leaned forward, her arms resting on the table with her hands clasped together, a deep sigh emitting from her mouth. “I became Unit Chief about five months ago.” She paused, “Hotch was forced to resign from his position, due to circumstances that have now left us in a real messy situation. He personally recommended me to take his place.”

“Do I dare congratulate you?” Saige pulled an unsure expression, doubting that her friend was enjoying the promotion and the new leadership role.

Before Emily could respond, one of the waitresses behind the counter had walked up to their table to see if the newest customer had wanted to make an order. Without hesitation, the dark-haired woman had ordered herself a chamomile tea, which she decided was probably the best choice if she had wanted to get at least some sleep tonight.

Saige knitted her eyebrows together, all ready prepared to carry on their conversation. “So why was Hotch forced to resign? He loved being the Unit Chief, that was his whole life.”

“In this instance, being a father to Jack was his whole life. It was his first and only priority, he no longer cared about being Unit Chief.” She paused for a moment, “Or the BAU for that matter.”

A look of surprise flashed across Saige’s face, “Damn. Must’ve been something serious then.”

Emily reached into her bag and pulled out a manila folder. “This has everything you need to know about Hotch resigning.” She placed the case file in front of Saige, “I’m aware that you shouldn’t be seeing this, but it’s too much information for me to even begin to explain to you. That, and I trust you.”

Saige nodded, “Give me a brief run-down?” She opened the folder and was immediately greeted with the mugshot of a man. A man who went by the name of Peter Lewis, and a man whose eyes had made the blonde feel uncomfortable looking into.

“Peter Lewis, also known as Mr Scratch within the team, has been terrorising the BAU for just over a year now. Long before I returned from overseas, Hotch and the team had put him behind bars. However, during a mass breakout amongst three prisons, thirteen serial killers managed to escape and unfortunately Scratch was one of them.”

As Emily gave a brief backstory, Saige flicked through the reports, her eyes fleeting over the sentences. The details and pictures of the scenes this criminal had caused wasn’t anything she hadn’t seen before, but after many years of not working at the BAU and seeing these images almost every day, Saige had felt a little uneasy at being reminded of the awful aspects of her career as a profiler.

“Scratch took great joy in terrorising Hotch,” Emily continued, “More recently he had appeared at one of Jack’s soccer games, and then attempted to visit him at his school whilst Hotch was on a case in California.”

Right at that moment, Saige had found the document that detailed Hotch’s resignation. “He’s in witness protection?” A small hint of surprise was in her voice. “I mean, I get it obviously, but somehow I still find myself a little surprised.”

“I was surprised too. I think if circumstances were a lot different, he’d have tackled this head-on. We also have to take into consideration with what happened to Haley. I don’t think Hotch was taking any risks this time around.” Emily explained.

“Makes sense.” Saige replied, closing the folder. “Well I hope he’s sunning it up somewhere nice and hot. Or even just laying low in the countryside. God knows he deserves this break.”

A small smile formed on Emily’s lips, “I hope for that to be happening too. After everything he’s sacrificed and done for this team, it’s about time he focused on his family and his safety.”

Saige hummed in agreement, just before the middle aged waitress returned to the women and handed Emily her tea. As she walked away, Saige pushed the case file back over to her friend, who quickly deposited it back into her bag. A silence fell between the pair, as both took sips of their hot beverages.

Saige was the one to break the silence. “So you brought me back here, all the way from Europe, to help the BAU track down this Peter Lewis?”

A flash of guilt crossed Emily’s face, “Partly, yes.”

Emily stared down at her drink, her eyes neither faltering nor blinking, as her intense gaze remained on the orangey-brown liquid. Dread had filled up her whole entire being, and her mind had begun to race with how she was supposed to relay this next piece of information to her dear friend.

“There is another reason,” She began, her voice unsteady, “I’m just not sure how to tell you.” She finally locked eyes with the blonde. “I’ve been racking my brain since I sent you that email on how to tell you, and honestly, I don’t think there’s an easy way to go about it.”

Saige frowned as an unsettling sensation rumbled in her chest. “Your unfaltering serious expression is very unnerving, Em.”

Emily kept silent as she grabbed the second manila folder from her bag. This time around she was hesitant to hand it over to Saige, not because she was anxious to see her reaction or scared of how she’d react, but because of the simple fact that her life was going to change once she knew what was going on. Not to mention the constant stress that was now going to plague the blonde.

She placed the folder onto the table, her hand still on top protecting its secret. “Three weeks ago, an incident occurred that involved one of our agents.” She took a deep breath, “Before you see what’s inside this case file, I need you to know that my team are doing everything in their power to fix this.”

Saige had begun to feel impatient. “Em, whatever it is, I’m sure I can handle it. Pass me the file.”

Before she changed her mind, Emily slid over the case file towards the blonde and distracted herself with taking another sip of her drink. To begin with, Saige was a little anxious to flip open the folder, but with one quick swoosh, she was immediately greeted with the worst picture she had ever seen.

Saige’s mouth instantly grew dry as her eyes fixated on the mugshot that laid before her. First she noticed the disheveled pushed back curls on top of the males head, his locks considerably longer from when she last saw him. Then she looked into the bewildered bloodshot eyes the agent possessed, and suddenly the world around her froze and the only thing she seemed to care about, was him.

Questions, assumptions, answers that she made up to make everything make sense, swirled in her mind at racing speeds. She had zoned out to the point that she didn’t hear Emily’s voice calling out her name softly, but her mind eventually came back to reality in a forceful manner, and she was jolted back to the matter at hand.

“Saige,” Emily had repeated her name for what felt like the tenth time, “Are you okay? It’s a lot to take in, I know, but I can assure you-”

Saige cut her off, “What happened?” She looked straight into her friends eyes. She didn’t even want to look through the files, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Emily sighed, “Truth of the matter is, we don’t know.” She paused, gaging the blondes reaction. “All we know is that he was arrested at the Mexican border for possession of drugs, and for allegedly killing a woman who was found in his motel room.” Saige could see the stress on Emily’s face.

Saige’s heart dropped as she realised just how much trouble her ex-boyfriend was in. This wasn’t just a small crime that could be brushed off with a warning, no, this was a crime that meant that the rest of Spencer Reid’s life was now defined to a jail cell.

She couldn’t wrap her head around what Spencer had been accused of. He’d spent the majority of his adult life protecting the country from crazy and bad people, there was no way he could now be categorised alongside them. Saige knew that the genius didn’t have it in him to actually kill someone. It would be absolutely ridiculous for anyone who knew him, to believe that he was capable of such a crime.

But then came the drugs. This fact she could believe he was capable of. Mainly because of his addiction to Dilaudid that occurred many, many years ago. She had so many questions regarding the whole drug possession, and the one thing she hoped; the one thing she cared about, was if he had become addicted again.

It took every ounce in her body for Saige to glance back down at the case file. “What was he even doing in Mexico? What business does he have there?” She tentatively began to flick through the papers.

Emily clasped her hands around her cup as she sighed sadly. “The business he had there was in regards to his mother. She was diagnosed with early on-set dementia about a year ago.”

Saige’s heart dropped, “You’re kidding?” Her chest suddenly felt heavy. “She has dementia on top of the schizophrenia? My god, Diana can’t catch a break.”

Emily smiled sadly, “She sure can’t. But the positive is, is that she’s doing well with the diagnosis and the symptoms. She’s in the best hands too.”

Saige nodded, trying to get back on track with the situation at hand. “So the whole Mexico thing? What’s this got to do with Diana?”

“Well, for the last couple of months, Reid has been travelling over the border to acquire illegal drugs. He believed these drugs would help Diana’s symptoms of her dementia, and to overall slow it down.”

Saige flicked through the pages a little more confidently now, the shock now merging into what felt like determination. Determination to get him back out into the world, and back into his sick mother’s arms. She couldn’t let him live out the rest of his years behind metal bars.

“You know,” Saige began, “For an intelligent man, that was a rather stupid decision for him to make. I know he was doing it for Diana, and he had the best intentions, but seriously? I’ve never heard something so ridiculous.”

Emily chuckled lightly. “I agree. I think I actually recall myself saying something very similar to Rossi.”

Saige huffed amusedly. “Well I’m relieved he’s not using again, and that the drugs were for a purpose.”

“Yes, to say the team were relieved too, is an understatement.” Emily added. “Thankfully though, the drugs he possessed for his mother didn’t actually contain any illegal ingredients, so that particular charge has been dropped.”

Saige nodded in acknowledgment; at least that was one thing they didn’t have to worry about. She continued to flick through the papers, skimming over the drug possession and how they had tested it, and when she flipped the page once more, she was greeted with an image of an older woman.

She was smiling, wrinkles outlining her cheekbones and the corners of her eyes, indicating her older age. Her short voluminous brunette hair had hints of grey intertwined, and her piercing brown eyes stared straight into the blondes.

“Nadie Ramos.” The name rolled off of Saige’s tongue, as she allowed the name to imprint in her mind. “This is the woman who Spencer has allegedly killed?” She raised her eyebrows at Emily from across the table.

She nodded, “When we arrived at the motel room Reid was staying at, we found her on the floor, stabbed to death.” Emily explained. “Honestly, we’re lucky Nadie held dual citizenship, otherwise Reid would be in a maximum security prison in Mexico right now.”

Saige rubbed her forehead in frustration. “And let me guess, the Bureau won’t defend his case because he wasn’t there on official business.” She phrased the question into more of a statement—she knew the rules within the FBI.

“Exactly.” Emily confirmed. “The team and myself know that Reid is innocent. And judging by the look in your eyes, I know you know he’s innocent too.” She paused, “Unfortunately our faith in him is not enough in the eyes of the law, and we’re on our own in trying to free him.”

Saige closed the manila folder and held her hand on top of it for a moment. Now she understood why Emily appeared stressed when she first walked into the diner. She was worried about Spencer’s fate, and no one other than the BAU were willing to help her in proving his innocence. The dark circles under her eyes and the heavy posture she held herself in, were all justified in the eyes of the blonde.

“You really haven’t had the best start as Unit Chief, huh.” Saige tried to find humour in this moment. “Perhaps I shouldn’t congratulate you after all.”

Emily huffed half-heartedly. “This is why I contacted you, Saige. Quite frankly, we’re struggling. I’m trying to juggle this new leadership role, which I feel like I’m drowning in, and we’re now down an agent—a genius one at that—and I feel extremely overwhelmed.”

“Em, you have my help.” Saige said, without any hesitation.

“Really?” Emily sounded surprised. “I apologise if I sound surprised, it’s just that,” She hesitated for a moment, “I know that you turned down the offer to return to the BAU, after your undercover work.”

Saige’s body tensed a little at the mention of her undercover case. She recovered quickly, but she knew her profiler friend across the table wouldn’t have missed it. That was something she wasn’t ready to talk about, even now, with her long time friend. If she was being honest, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever be ready to talk about it.

The blonde slid Spencer’s folder back over to the agent, “You’re right, I did. But I’ll return on this particular occasion. You’re a dear friend of mine; I owe a lot to Hotch after all these years, and Spencer, well, I think I needn’t explain that.” She took a sip of her hot chocolate.

“You truly are a gift, Saige Moore.” Emily smiled gratefully.

The blonde smiled back. “This may go without saying, but this is only a temporary placement, Em. Once these cases are solved, I’m planning to head back to Europe.”

Emily nodded. “I can’t say that I’m not gutted to hear that, but I understand.” She began. “I’m just grateful you came back here to hear me out. You have no idea how much of a relief it is to have another pair of hands.”

Saige smiled, “You guys are still my family after all.”

Emily smiled back, as the two then exchanged warm looks to one another, before settling into a comfortable silence. Emily could now relax, hoping that a fresh pair of eyes would benefit their situation and solve these cases a lot sooner than expected. Saige on the other hand, had to get out of her relaxed mental state and put her profiling head back on, which after two and a half years, could prove to be a struggle.

“Right,” Emily was the one to break the silence, “I guess all there’s left to discuss then, is a matter of when you start.” She pulled out her iPhone from her blazer pocket and began typing. “I’ll have all your credentials and paperwork sorted out by tomorrow morning. I realise you’ve just returned from Europe, so you’re probably jet-lagged, so if-”

“I can start tomorrow.” Saige cut her off. “I’ve suffered much worse, I think I’ll be able to handle a little jet-lag.” She chuckled.

Emily chuckled too. “All right, I guess I’m not going to argue with that.” Emily set down her phone on the table. “That’s perfect then. We’ll get you reunited with the team and acquainted with the new members, and then we’ll start filling you in in more detail with where we’re at.”

Saige nodded, “Sounds good.”

A comfortable silence fell upon the two women. Saige cradled her hot chocolate as her mind raced with processing the whole conversation she had just had with her former, but now temporary, colleague. She couldn’t believe that so much had happened in her two and a half year absence, and she was surprised she hadn’t heard a word about any of it until now.

The large round clock on the other side of the diner was now reading quarter to eleven. The pair had only reunited thirty-four minutes ago, but with the heavy topics that they had both discussed, it had felt so much longer than that. With a quick glance at the clock, Saige had realised just how late it was and remembered that she still had some things to do before she got some rest tonight.

“If you don’t mind, Em, I should probably be taking off.” Saige announced. “It’s getting quite late and I came here as soon as my flight landed, so I’m yet to reunite with my parents.”

“Of course!” Emily rushed to shove the idle manila folder back into her bag. “I apologise, I didn’t realise the time. Listen, you head home, I’ve got the bill here. And I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you, Em.” Saige smiled and grabbed her novel that was left discarded on the table, before shuffling out of the booth with her bag in tow. “See you tomorrow, Agent Prentiss.”

A warm look crossed Emily’s face, “See you tomorrow, Agent Moore.”



Smoke and Mirrors

El Abuelo is the most notorious of crime bosses, and it falls to Special Agent Reynauld Maurouard to take him down.  His only lead: Dismas, an ex-bandit whose outfit was in the mobster's hire. Things go downhill from there.

Chapter 1

Special Agent Reynauld Maurouard couldn't say that filling out forms was his favourite occupation, but paperwork was a necessary evil when you worked in law enforcement.  When a shadow fell over him, blocking out the light, he put down his pen and straightened.  Reynauld could have sworn that he could hear as well as feel some disks in his back pop into place.  Or out of it.  Something to worry about later.

"How's it going?" the man leaning on his desk asked, a faint smile playing around his mouth as he surveyed the battlefield that was Reynauld's workspace.

"How'd you think?" Reynauld grunted, rubbing his hands over his face until he saw stars.  For the past hour the letters had been running together, but he needed to finish this before tomorrow or he'd have his superiors breathing down his neck.  "I'm elbows deep in reports."

"Ain't we all?" Guyot asked.  In the clinically cold light of the neon lamps the dark circles around his eyes were all the more prominent, and his freckles were a stark contrast to his pale skin.  He looked just as exhausted as Reynauld felt.

As if he had read his thoughts, Guyot lifted a silver can, giving it an inviting swirl, and instantly the rich aroma of roasted beans permeated the stale office air.  "Coffee?"

When he saw Reynauld hesitating, he was quick to add, "It's good, I tested it.  On Marci."  Guyot looked around, guilt written all over his face, but in the end he just shrugged and grinned sheepishly.

Reynauld chuckled.  When some higher ups had thought it a great idea to put the PD and forensics in the same building – talk about corruption – and some of the doctors were evidently as mentally unstable as the criminals they pursued, caution saved you from getting yourself into a lot of trouble.  "Is she still among the living?"

"Aye, the living and the conscious," Guyot replied easily.  

"Then yes, please."  Reynauld had to shift some folders to find his mug buried underneath them and held it out for Guyot to fill.

Which he did, right up to the brim, eying some of the papers strewn all over the desk in the process.  "What'cha got here?  Montgomery case?"

"M-hmm," Reynauld hummed and took a sip of scalding hot fermented–bean–juice.  He  closed his eyes for a moment to savour it.

"What a shitshow," Guyot observed.  "Don't get me wrong,  I'm glad we got him.  Just because the man was in politics and old money, don't mean he's above justice."  He stopped; they'd talked more than their fair share about it.  The case had been all over the news for weeks, and by now everybody who had worked on it was fed up with it.  It was time to wrap it up and to move on.

"Anyway, the guys wanna know if you're coming to the track run.  We're up against the boys from Eastside distinct."

Track run.  That rang a bell.  Reynauld frowned; he had quite forgotten about the charity event.  "When's it?"

"Next weekend."

"I can't," Reynauld replied and didn't have to fake the regret.  Those competition between departments were usually a lot of fun and a good way to get to know new people, make some contacts.  "Thio's over, and I promised him we'll go camping."

"Aw, damn.  We're losing our best man."  But Guyot said it with a smile.  He knew how much those weekends meant to Reynauld.  "How is the big man?"

"Growing bigger every day."  The thought of his son never failed to put a smile on Reynauld's face.  "I can't believe he's about to turn eight.  Eve wanted to have a party.  You're invited of course, provided you can stand a horde of children high on sugar.

"You know I'd never miss out, and Lucy's been wanting to visit anyway.  We'll pop in, say hi, and evac if it gets too bad."  Guyot laughed and Reynauld had to join in.  Fair was fair.   They had served in the army together, and when they had quit the force it had been his friend's contacts that had given Reynauld a job here in the city.

"Chin up, soldier.  One more week and it's over," Guyot said.  "Maybe the chief's even gonna give you a promotion!"

Reynauld snorted at the thought, which should be answer enough.  If you couldn't find pride in the police work but wanted praise, you had to join the K-9 units.  As a dog.  On most days, Reynauld did enjoy it; doing something good, something useful.  He thanked Guyot for the offering of artificial energy that would get him through the evening and waved when the other man took his leave.

Just a few more hours, and he'd be able to go home.  Put a lid on the whole thing and give himself a pat on the shoulder.  From a framed picture, one of the few private possessions he kept at work, Reynauld's family was smiling at him.

He sighed and picked up his pen again.  

Reynauld wished a person could refuel on good mood like a vehicle could on gasoline, because Monday came cloaked in chaos, like a true harbinger of a bad week.

Over the weekend, he had taken Thio out of the city and to a natural preserve that had a nice lake and easy trails.  Maybe when his son was older, Reynauld would be able to take him hiking in the Hinterlands, but that would be in a couple of years at the earliest.

Now, he was running late for work since his alarm had given up on life sometime in the middle of the night.  Thanks to years of military service and an affinity for the early morning hours, he still managed to wake almost on time.  Maintenance works on the train rails forced him to take his car however, and he promptly found himself stuck in an unmoving column of other unfortunate souls braving the morning traffic.

When he had finally made it to the intersection, he almost had an accident when some idiot on a motorbike ran a red light and cut him off, disappearing between a delivery van and a taxi before Reynauld had a chance to catch his plate number.

The rest of the drive passed without incident, thankfully.  The RPD, the Riverside Police Department, was located some two miles outside of the city center, and just about ten walking minutes from the Riverside train station.  The building had a long history, beginning with it originally being built as a summer residence for Emperor Harauld.  Since then it had served as university, a hospital, and finally the casern it was to this day.

There was nothing inherently inviting about the grey and cheerless stonework, but it was far from the worst place to work.  In the large courtyard, Barristan had some sweaty-looking recruits in training clothes lined up.  Reynauld returned the wave the one-eyed drill sergeant greeted him with, and hurried on.

As soon as he pulled open the door, he was struck by the lack of usual activity.  The quiet of the waiting room was disturbed only by the hum of the ceiling fan, its blades rotating lazily.  The air was thick with the smells of stale coffee and smoke, even though smoking inside had been prohibited by law several years ago.  Underlying those was a faint odour of office: a less-than enticing mix of sweat, paper, and cleaning agents.

There was nobody seated behind the two front desks, and that was unusual enough to make Reynauld double-check his mobile and pager, nervous about maybe having overlooked a message.  Special Weapons And Tactics carried those to call them to operations too dangerous for regular police officers to handle.  Riot control wasn't much of an issue these days anymore, so they mostly handled search warrants and cases that involved organized crime, which in turn were usually linked to weapon or narcotics dealership, or illegal betting.  They had special training; and were authorized to carry military equipment, but the rest of the time, they were law enforcement agents like any other.  Reynauld did   his fair share of patrols, reports and other sorts of office work.

Both the pager and his phone's screens were blank, so he had not missed some emergency.  He decided to go to his office first; maybe Guyot would be able to tell him what was going on.  He never got that far though, because Reynauld almost collided with Marci when he jogged up the stairs.

"Where is everyone?"

"Mallory's office," the young police officer replied, sounding out of breath.  "Linesi's taken out two teams – there has been another robbery."

Another one.  Reynauld's heart sank.  "Where?"

"Central," Maci replied, biting her lip.

Reynauld nodded, and hurried past her.  Mallory saw him and waved from the door to her office.  She was a tall, no-nonsense kind of person who wore her black hair short and whom he had never seen out of a suit.  She had worked her way up to deputy director and it was generally assumed she would one day replace the Chief when he retired.

She was holding a meeting, and a grapevine of people was clustered in the room which seemed too small all of a sudden.  Gatherings like this didn't usually happen unless it was someone's birthday or something bad had occurred.   Reynauld didn't need Marci to tell him which one this was, he could have guessed by the absence of cake and smiles upon the faces of those around him.

Reynauld took up position in the back of the group.   He had to stand on his toes to be able to look over all their heads and see what held their attention.  The flatscreen was a video playing footage from what could only be a security camera.  Reynauld had missed most of it, but he arrived just in time to see a black-masked burglar breathe steam on the camera's lens.  The quality of the recording was not good enough to tell whether it was a man or a woman before fog was all they could see.  And then a heart appeared where the condensation was wiped away with the tip of one finger.  Seconds later, the tv flickered to black, and that was it.

In the silence that followed one would have been able to hear a pin drop.  And that was saying something since the office was carpeted.

"When did this happen?" Reynauld finally asked when he realized nobody else was going to.

"We received the tape this morning," Mallory answered, and turned off the television with an annoyed flick of her wrist.  "This was recorded on Sunday evening."

"I thought the cemetery had a security firm doing surveillance, and we'll get notified as soon as something happens?" someone to Reynauld's right called out.

A muscle in Mallory's jaw twitched, but her tone did not betray her frustration.  "They disabled the security system," she informed them.

"Shit!" somebody else cursed, which earned them a glower from Mallory, but by then the room had burst into chaos; everybody was calling out ideas and talking one over the other.

"Rey."  Mallory's hand landed on his shoulder a moment later, and her voice lowered, despite the chance of being overheard being close to zero.  "The Chief wants a word."

Reynauld nodded at her and left the room, leaving her to bring back order to the meeting.  His boss was not the most patient of men, and there was no reason to antagonize him, especially since he very much did not want to draw attention to his tardiness.

The Chief's office was at the end of the second story corridor.  A golden plate was screwed to the door, but Reynauld did not even glance at it.  His knuckles had barely made contact with the wood when he was told to enter, and he stepped into Chief Vvulf's domain.

The room was just like he remembered it.  Most of it was taken up by a large desk, and the walls were lined with shelves that were slowly beginning to bend under their load.  At some point an effort had been made to make the office look more homely, but the plants had not lasted long.  The Chief had kept but one, and the fact that it was a cactus really spoke for itself.

He was in his middle years, with short grey hair and the figure of a powerful man who was slowly getting out of shape.  "What did she tell you?" the Chief began without so much as a word of greeting.  He was seated in a big leather armchair behind his desk.

Guessing that he must have meant Mallory, Reynauld answered, "The central cemetery was hit by a masked felon nicknamed the Graverobber."

The Chief nodded, then made a hand gesture for Reynauld to close the door and take a seat.   "This ain't for anybody's ears," he grunted.

"Sir?"

Vvulf laced his fingers together on his stomach, fixing his unblinking gaze on Reynauld.  "There's no point tiptoeing around it.  I don't shout it from the rooftops, but my family's history goes back a long way.  The mausoleum that was hit yesterday wasn't just anyone.  These attacks are have become a personal matter now.  We, the police, are being targeted, and the situation has gotten out of control."

Reynauld had not known that the Chief was related to any of the old nobility, but then perhaps the knowledge should not surprise him; one did not rise to the rank of Chief without some good connections.  There was very little Reynauld actually knew about the man who was his boss, despite having worked for him for years.  Vvulf was someone who valued his privacy and didn't get too friendly with his subordinates.

"So we take down the ones responsible," Reynauld deducted, still unsure why he was here. Certainly it was not so that his boss could make that little confession?

"You're a smart man, Maurouard," Vvulf pointed out, a hint of irritation in his voice.

"You don't think they're acting out of their own agenda," Reynauld deduced, remembering the video Mallory had shown them.  The Graverobber's actions had struck him as being... provocative, almost.  They certainly had wanted to be seen, maybe to send some kind of message.

"No.  I do not," the Chief confirmed with a pleased nod.  "Whether we like it or not, the old families are the foundation which this city is built upon."

Reynauld noticed he spoke as if he did not belong to one of them, despite his earlier admission.  

"And there are those who would benefit from weakening it, from sowing discord, uncertainty and fear.  From making us look weak and incompetent.  If the people do not feel safe," the Chief said and leaned forward on his elbows as if he was to share a great secret, "Whom will they turn to for protection?"

"So these attacks are not a coincidence," Reynauld summed up.  Everybody had presumed as much, but they still lacked solid proof.  "And you suspect one of the northern cartels?"

Vvulf was shaking his head before Reynauld had even finished speaking.  "Not just any one of them."   Reynauld wanted to ask if he really thought he could be behind all this, but the Chief continued.  "El Abuelo has plenty of reason to target us," Vvulf pointed out.  "We may not know what his final goal is, but men like him feed off chaos.  They always look for weaknesses, for a way to expand their power.  We need to stop him – ," the Chief broke off abruptly, and Reynauld imagined he could hear the ghost of an at all costs.

He did not comment.  El Abuelo was one of the, if not the most notorious of crime bosses.  Reynauld was still trying to come to terms with everything he had learned, when Vvulf said,

"I want you to be the Special Agent in Charge on this case."

"Me?"

"Do you see anyone else in this room?" Vvulf demanded to know.  "Yes, you."

"Why?" Reynauld blurted out, which, in hindsight, probably wasn't the smartest thing to say.  He was still reeling from all the information – a moment ago he had not even known there was a case; now he had been told he was to lead a major investigation that involved one of the most dangerous men in the North.  And was not the most experienced man the Chief had, and huge cases like this were usually given to the senior officers.

Vvulf's lips pursed in thought.  "You did some good work," he finally said, but even guff praise from the Chief was quite something.  "I like that you are efficient and discreet and I trust you to handle delicate matters without causing a scandal.  This is your chance, Maurouard.  Prove me I'm right, and who knows, this seat might one day belong to you," he added and laughed at his own joke, a rare sign he had a sense of humour, buried somewhere deep inside.

The corner of Reynauld's mouth tugged upwards.  "Thinking about retiring, Sir?"  It would be hard to imagine the PD without Vvulf there to lead them, he was such a huge personality.  A tough boss with high expectations, but a fair one.

"There's one of them Southern beaches that has my name on it," Vvulf said, but his eyes were already narrowing.  "You look like there's something on your mind.  Spit it out, what is it?"

"I was actually hoping to take some time off," Reynauld confessed.  He was tired from merely thinking about the upcoming work load.  He deserved a vacation, and he still had three weeks good from last year that he was going to lose soon – as his boss knew very well.

Vvulf leaned back, making his leather armchair creak.  "Tell you what," he decided.  "If time wasn't of the essence, I'd let you go right now.  I will let you keep your three weeks, and if we get El Abuelo, I'll top it off with a month of paid leave extra, so you can spend some time with your boy – family's everything, after all.  How does that sound?"

"Sounds like a deal, Sir."  Reynauld could barely believe the offer he'd been made; it was quite unheard of.  But he trusted his boss not to pull him over.  And if they got El Abuelo, Vvulf would be basking in the attention of the media.  He might even be hailed a city hero.

"Excellent," the Chief said, sounding pleased.  "You'll be happy to know we already have a lead."

That certainly was news.  "We do?" Reynauld asked, cocking his brow.

"The Graverobber is not operating on his or her own," Vvulf replied.  "There is no way they could disable the security system and rob the mausoleum in time before we were alerted of the shutdown.  They have an accomplice."  The Chief turned and got up, reaching to take a folder off the shelf behind him.  He dropped it on the table and flipped it towards Reynauld who opened it.

The first page was taken up by a close-up of a man's face.  For reasons unknown the photograph was black and white, but Reynauld did not need colour to recognize him.

"Dismas," he said, remembering the name because it was actually that of the penitent thief from the Verse of Light.  An alias then.

Reynauld wasn't sure if the rogue was ballsy, or merely an arsehole.

"Aye," Vvulf confirmed, his greying brows drawing together.  "One right bloody fucker.  He's guilty of more than some harmless misconduct too.  The man's an ex-bandit, and former member of the Wolves."

Reynauld flipped the first page.  There was a list of information they had managed to collect on the man.  The first line read:

Real name:  Valance Paixdecouer.

"Paixdecouer," Reynauld said slowly, thinking.  "Is the name given to orphans raised by the Order."

Vvulf nodded.  "I see I chose the right man for the job.  Pick your team, Maurouard, and get started straight away.  This has top priority from now on until I tell you otherwise. "

Reynauld closed the folder with a snap and picked it up, resting it against the crook of his elbow.  "What about the Montgomery case, Sir?"

"Just hand it over to someone else," Vvulf said.  "Mallory will handle it, if no one else will.  You can report to her, if I'm not here."

Reynauld nodded, "You said Dismas  ran with the Wolves?"  He had heard a lot about the gang, but it had fallen apart and its members had scattered when their leader had disappeared.  Apparently there had been some sort of falling out between who they only knew as the Wolf, and El Abuelo.

"The Wolf was El Abuelo's hireling," the Chief said after a brief pause.  "Therefore, if we find him," Vvulf said, tapping one fat finger against picture-Dismas' temple, "Maybe we can retrace his connection right back to the source."

"Do we know his whereabouts then?" Reynauld wanted to know.  Despite himself, he couldn't help but feel a spark of excitement.  The Wolf had disappeared a little bit over a decade ago – either laying low, or killed by El Abuelo himself.  Even if he was alive, he had had enough time to cover his tracks.  It was unlikely they would find him – unlikely, but not impossible.

"Unfortunately, we do not," Vvulf confirmed Reynauld's suspicion.  "Every time we were tipped off and the team's gotten close, he has slipped through our nets.  Man doesn't hang out in one place for very long.  The good thing is: We got somebody who was close to him."

"How do you know-"

Vvulf waved his hand in a dismissing gesture and Reynauld dropped that thread to ask a far more important question.

"Has he told us anything?"

"Not yet," the Chief said in a tone that made it crystal clear he would, sooner rather than later – even if he had to wring the answers out of the prisoner himself.  "But he will.  And when he does, I want you and your team to be ready.  This could be the biggest strike against organized crime in fifty years!"

"Yes, Sir!" Reynauld saluted the Chief with the folder and turned on his heel.  Guyot was the first one on his team.  They had an uncatchable criminal to capture.  Reynauld had always liked a challenge.

AN: You can also find the story here, on AO3!