#still workin on the rest thanks for being patient guys!
Note
HAVE ANY OF YOU EVER TRAVELED TO THE MUSHROOM KINGDOM?
#this is the 1 that i've been working on this whole time i hope you like it cause if not thatd be embarrassing!!#warioware#mona warioware#orbulon#and hey what the hell:#super mario#still workin on the rest thanks for being patient guys!#comic#art
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| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 | [CHAPTER 12]
pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader
this chapter’s notes; camshow, sex toys, overstimulation, tiniest mentions of daddy!kink, a lil bit of a filler chapter!, this is the most btsvt chapter that it’ll ever get so i’m sorry if you dont like that!! 😭😭, a bit of a lighthearted chapter too tbh to ease everyone back into cherry bomb! 💕 I know its been like two fuckin weeks since the last update which is honestly insane to me! I almost couldnt remember where we even left off lmao kdjfhds 😩💕💕 Thank you for being so patient with me and waiting it out while we had two weeks of Monster Mash! Starting Monday, I’m gonna be going back to my normal posting schedule! 💕 have a great rest of the weekend, yall! 🍒
chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - ?
“Wait, seriously? You want to work here? But--but I thought you were from out of town?”
Jun’s eyes light up with excitement; fingertips crushing the resume you passed to him moments prior. “Um, well, there was a change of plans… and I’d really like to work somewhere where I have a friend! If you guys are still hiring, that is...” You reply back meekly.
It’d taken you all morning to write up a resume, blushing a little when you realize most of your income had been from camming. It’d also made you pause for a moment when you realized that it meant Jun would also know your real name too; as well as everyone who came through the diner and all of your coworkers.
“Yeah, of course! I, um, just give me a second to pass this to my manager, okay? I’ll be sure to put in a good word!” Jun shoots you a wink before he turns to leave.
You take the opportunity to sit down at a nearby booth, fishing for your phone to text Seungcheol.
‘I think I might be getting the job!!’
cheollie ✨: oh? Not that I doubted you, but is it confirmed already?
‘Mm… Jun is trying to put in a word for me! But I’m confident!’
cheollie ✨: thats my baby ;)
You hear someone call your name hesitantly, only to find Jun standing a few feet away looking at you sheepishly. “Um, sorry, your name’s on the resume so I figured…”
“Oh! Yeah, it’s fine!” You awkwardly giggle. “I figured writing ‘Cherry’ as my name wouldn’t be too smart when you need to cross-reference my ID if I get the job.” Jun laughs as he takes the seat across from you in the booth, papers in hand.
“Well, I convinced my manager to let me interview you. Told him that if we’d be workin’ together that I’d want to scope you out for myself! He bought it, can you believe it!?” Grinning, he sets your crumpled resume down next to a small stack of papers. “I don’t doubt you’d pull your weight around here but I do have to ask… Why here of all places? I thought your, uh, other job was enough? Or I guess I assumed...” You bite your lip, flip-flopping on whether or not you wanted to let him know exactly what happened that led to your sudden decision.
“Um… There were just some big life changes I had to make on the fly and I’ll be living around here now! I’m trying out some new things… I also figured if I worked with you, then you’d know my schedule the best too! And you seem like a really nice and cool guy.”
Jun nods, smiling back at you.
“You got that right!”
“You’re seriously going to start working there?” Jeongguk raises a brow, cables in hand as he sets up the extra PC in his streaming room. “And the guy working there knows you? That doesn’t bother you?”
Seungcheol laughs under his breath, “Yeah and he knows me now too. And knows I’d kick his ass if he tried anything.” You pout from your place in the expensive gaming chair; eyes focused on Jeongguk who shimmies under the desk to start plugging in the cables.
“Well, yeah he does know me, but he’s also one of my regulars and knows the schedules I’ll need, so I think we can trust him!” They both nod and Seungcheol is quick to cross the small room until he’s right behind you.
“He seems like a nice guy though, I don’t think we have to worry.”
Jeongguk slides out from underneath the desk, dusting off his pants as he stands. “And if he does end up being a weirdo, there’s always a place for you at the roller rink!”
Seungcheol rolls his eyes, hands gripping onto the backrest of the chair.
“No.”
“Hey guys, welcome back to Golden Closet Gaming! I’m JK, your regular host! Today, we have a suuuper special guest! Why don’t you introduce yourself, pretty lady~”
You take a deep breath as you lean in close to the mic; somewhat nervous and a little out of your usual element. “Hi everyone~ I’m Cherry! Some of you may know me from, um, the other side of the streaming-sphere but I’m joining my friend today in hopes of boosting our channels together and having a ‘lil bit of fun!!”
Seungcheol sits at the side as he watches the two of you; a small smile painted on his lips at the way the two of you seem to fall into your characters easily despite the somewhat different platforms and influx of different viewers.
The sound of donations and comments pour in a lot quicker than Jeongguk, himself, is used to; eyes wide and eyebrows raised as he pauses to watch them flood the screen.
sleepy_wonu has donated $100
xcaliburDK has donated $100
sleepy_wonu: never thought i’d be donating here but here we are
xcaliburDK: i was always a silent watcher but u kno i had to donate for my favorite girl!
seokGENIE: i feel like i’m entitled to something for taking your shift so i wont be donating, sorry pretty girl
j__min: can’t believe this kid got a collab with you before i did :(
j__min has donated $200
dtsug__a: i dont normally watch streams either but im curious
Jeongguk laughs, still in disbelief as the donations continue to pour in from a combination of your viewers and his. He always made a decent amount from his viewers but he couldn’t deny the pull you had from your viewers as well. “Wow, um okay, my donations are adding up a lot quicker than they usually do. That’s… Hey, whaddya say to streaming with me regularly?” He jokes.
A shy laugh bubbles up your throat; ears and cheeks burning hot at the idea. You had never collabed with any other streamer before and despite your initial hesitance and unsureness, you too, were shocked to find how well the two of you were doing without your usual content.
“Erm, I’m not very good at gaming though… I don’t think your viewers would like it very much...”
seokGENIE: thats ok jk sucks at gaming too, it wouldnt be too different
j__min: lmao fkjdhf
dtsug__a: does he get roasted often on this channel? If so i’ll be tuning in more often
dtsug__a has donated $100
dtsug__a: for your troubles, pretty gal
“On second thought, let’s let this be a special occasion, huh? Maybe collabs for the holiday, Cherry?” Jeongguk grumbles and Seungcheol has to bite his lip to keep in his laughs from his side of the small room. You start to feel more and more comfortable at the lighthearted atmosphere; tucking a stray hair behind your ear before you lean in towards the mic again.
“Ah! Speaking of, don’t forget to tune into my camshow tomorrow~! JK and I will be gaming on there as well but… with some added fun to match my channel~! 21 and over only~” You blink at the computer screen, still a little unused to the idea that you weren’t technically being filmed. Although, it was a nice change for once; not needing to be all done up for a show and simply just talking to your viewers and reading comments.
sleepy_wonu: is dom daddy gonna be on the show too?
“Dom daddy? Oh you mean Se---”
“Yes! Kind of!” You cut off, laughing nervously. Nobody knew Seungcheol’s name except for Jun and you were trying to keep as much of him private as possible, until he was ready. “In a sense, he’ll be there! You guys will just have to tune in to find out!”
Jeongguk laughs into his own mic, scooting in closer to his desk as he loads up the game.
“I think that’s enough chatting for now, huh? Let’s get started! Tonight we’ll be playing Phasmophobia! We’ll be playing something more lighthearted on Cherry’s channel, as she requested. So tonight we’ll be playing something I picked out. You ready, baby?”
Seungcheol narrows his eyes, quietly taking a sip of his water.
“Ready when you are!”
“I gotta say, sweetheart, for someone who doesn’t play video games too often, you’re not too bad.” Seungcheol comments, nodding his head in amazement as the three of you exit Jeongguk’s PC room. He’d had a hard time keeping in his laughs as he watched from the side and he had to admit, you were even cuter when you were outside of your usual element.
“I have to agree with hyung, but maybe it was also the adrenaline and screaming that kept you goin’.”
The two males share a laugh as you pout and plop down onto Jeongguk’s living room sofa. “Hey, how were the numbers for tonight, by the way?” You ask quietly.
“Honestly? I think we made almost triple of what my channel usually sees. I know I don’t really make a ton off of my streams since I don’t really do anything, like, crazy but shit… Even I’m shocked at how much we made.”
Seungcheol’s lip ease into a smirk; Jeongguk really had no idea how much the two of you had made off of a couple videos alone.
“We still have one more stream to do and then we can just pool up the money and split it down the middle!”
Jeongguk nods, stretching as he sits himself down onto the other end of the sofa. “I’ll bring my spare PC stuff so we can set up a little early tomorrow, if that’s cool with you two? Maybe have some food before we get started too ‘cause god knows I’m gonna be starving.” You look to Seungcheol who nods and checks his phone for the time.
“Yeah, we need to set up the cameras and lighting a little differently too so we’ll probably start earlier. Just text me before you drive over so we know when to expect you.”
You yawn next to Jeongguk; adrenaline having worn off as the tiredness finally sets in. “It’s so weird, usually I’m only just starting my stream right around this time but I’m so exhausted now...” Seungcheol’s eyes from cute crescents as he smiles down at you, stepping closer as he goes in to smooth down your hair.
“You really were screaming a lot, to be fair. How about we head home and you can sleep in the car?”
“Okay~”
Seungcheol lets you sleep in on Saturday morning, watching as your chest rises and falls with soft breaths.
He takes a moment to think over the last few weeks of his life and he can’t help the disbelieving expression that crosses his features when he realizes just how much had changed over the course of just weeks.
When the two of you had met, he wasn’t expecting much. He expected the two of you to hang out for a few days before you went home and forgot he even existed outside of your camshows and the comments section. But now that so much had happened between the two of you, Seungcheol felt a deeper connection to you and felt the need to protect you even moreso than ever.
He sees you shift slightly, sleepy eyes blinking open as you peer up at him. “Good morning, sweetheart.”
“Mm… g’morning ‘cheol…”
You grimace sleepily at how hoarse your voice sounds, “Ew, I sound so… gross.”
Seungcheol moves to get out of bed, leaning in to kiss your forehead before he shuffles towards the bathroom. “I’m going to wash up but you can stay in bed if you like. I’ll make you some tea for your throat, okay? We have a long day ahead of us and I don’t think you wanna sound like that later tonight.”
Nodding sleepily, you lay back down as you yawn and let the sleep take over once again.
“Are you really sure ‘bout this?” Jeongguk takes a bite of his pizza as he watches Seungcheol pull the desk closer to the bed.
“What do you mean?” You ask; readjusting the light that was closest to the younger male. “Like, I dunno, I’ve never been on a cam show like this so… I mean do I have to do anything different?” You laugh lightly as you go in to pat Jeongguk on the shoulder.
“No, just be you. And we went over it already earlier, the only thing that’s different is going to be me! No weird tricks or anything, I promise.”
Seungcheol places another monitor on the tabletop, grunting as he goes. “Yeah, and in all honesty, I would hate to have to watch you get off, ‘Guk.”
“Oh shut up, hyung. You say that like I don’t know what you’re packin’ under those sweats. I think it’d only be fair! Just two bros getting to know each other.” Seungcheol pretends to gag just as you double over in laughter. “No, absolutely not, ‘Guk. And also, nobody told you to watch those videos!”
Jeongguk pauses, lips pressing into a firm line. “You right, you right…”
You leave to get changed just as Jeongguk starts to help Seungcheol set up the last few bits of equipment. He leans in close to the older male, eyes glancing around the space to make sure you were completely out of earshot. “Hey, hyung, honest question.”
“Sure.”
“Are you really okay with all this?” Confusion crosses Seungcheol’s features as he raises an eyebrow at the younger male. “What’s ‘this’ exactly, ‘Guk?”
“Y’know, her living here and you camming all of a sudden, among everything else really… And the question if you’re in love with her which, by the way, we still all know that you are.”
A blush coats Seungcheol’s skin, fingertips almost losing grip of the camera he was about to mount to the desktop. “Listen, yes, okay, I do… like her a lot. But she’s going through a lot right now too and I don’t want to freak her out either. There’s a lot of life changes we’re going through so I’m just going to ...wait.”
“You’re a good man, hyung.”
“Hi everyone!”
You wave to the camera, winking and blowing a kiss to the camera propped up between the two monitors on the table. “I know, this setup is a little wild and not my normal but this is part two of my collaboration with Golden Closet Gaming! Do you want to introduce yourself to those who missed our other stream?” You turn to Jeongguk who nods; this time a little nervous as he stares directly into the camera.
He’d said he was okay with being filmed since he wasn’t actually part of any sexual acts, but he still found himself a little camerashy now that the two of you were live.
Seungcheol sat directly behind the monitors and cameras; his phone open to your cam show to watch from a different angle.
“Ah, hello! I’m JK of Golden Closet Gaming! I’m a friend of Cherry’s and no we won’t be fuckin’.” Jeongguk ends with an innocent smile that has you holding back your laughter.
therealchan99: i dont think dom.cheol would like that very much anyway
universe_WZ has donated $100
universe_WZ: unless he’s into watching
dom.cheol: no
alphagyu97: oh shit hes back
angelhan: huh, so hes not there?
“Oh, he is! He’s behind the camera~” You gesture beyond the camera to where Seungcheol sits and he leans over to quickly wave upside down in front of the camera to prove his existence.
j__min: ah, of course~ we know your daddy would never let you play with anyone else~
j__min: he likes you too much ;)
emerald.tae: oh? also hi new watcher!!!
emerald.tae: ur videos were great!!
emerald.tae has donated $200
therealchan99: im gonna need to start fighting ppl for ur attention i swear
gentleman_josh95: implying u had it
chwenon: yooooooo lmao
“You guuuuys, be nice! Just for that, I’m gonna be sending you a special private pic, okay ‘therealchan99’? You guys pick on him too much!” You pout.
therealchan99: hahaahhAHhhahaHAAHAA FUCKIN LOSERS SUCK ON THAT
tangerine_kwan: bruh
chwenon: damn guess we should can it
You respond to a few more comments as Jeongguk sits by and watches the way you interact with your viewers. He also takes note that you had a donation minimum before you started actually doing anything on your channel and that you’d already hit it pretty quickly.
“Okay! I think we should start now, huh? Oh, I should explain what’s going on!” You giggle cutely, settling into your space on the bed. “So JK and I will be playing this stilt man game! We have to get our character to the finish line without falling or the level restarts! JK has to get to level 30 and I have to get to level 20 and whoever reaches their goal first, wins!”
“I have a higher level to reach ‘cause our skillsets are different and we all know I’d smoke her if we both had to reach the same level.” Jeongguk grins.
seokGENIE: sure
seokGENIE has donated $69
sleepy_wonu has donated $100
hoshi_tiger_xx has donated $100
“And the reason why ‘dom.cheol’ is behind the camera is because...” You pause, eyes twinkling with playfulness as you stare directly into the lens. “In order to get me to do my best, he’ll be controlling a special toy I’m wearing~ Hehe, if my character falls, he’ll raise the vibration setting each time as punishment and leave it on until I cum…”
“Which we are assuming will be a lot. Unfortunately, no medic on standby.” Jeongguk jokes. Seungcheol rolls his eyes as he laughs from behind the camera.
“We have a safeword, don’t we, sweetheart?” You nod in response, “Mmhmm!”
“Let’s get it!”
It takes all of four stages before your character falls for the first time.
Seungcheol turns the vibrating panties on and you immediately jolt as you try to keep your character upright on screen. “Oh, f-fuck!”
kitty_junjun: uh ohhhh it begins
artist8hao: i don’t think she’s gonna last.. babygirl is so sensitive, she’ll probably cum soon
xcaliburDK: i’m giving it until level 6 before she cums
emerald.tae: oh are we placing bets
“Noooo~ Don’t place bets on me, I’m weak!” You whine; already squirming as the vibrations attack your clit. Seungcheol grins from in front of you as Jeongguk laughs from your side, already on level 7 on his own screen.
You had to admit, it was a little weird for someone else to be in the room with you while Seungcheol basically used a toy on you, but the younger male seemed to not care about it at all. Although, he had already seen most of you and Seungcheol at this point.
Your fingertips are shaky on the keyboard and computer mouse; already fearing the way Seungcheol’s eyes almost become darker the longer you struggle.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Is the game too hard?”
“A-ah, n--no, it’s not that b-bad…” Squirming, you grind down a little harder onto the bed just as your character falls on screen and Seungcheol raises the setting to the second highest in the blink of an eye. “Ngh, fuh---fuck!”
“Uh oh~ Should I slow down to let you catch up?” Jeongguk teases.
“N-no, I can beat y-you!”
The donations and comments pour in as you struggle to keep your calm and get your character to the finish line; letting out a sigh of relief as you finally enter the fifth level. You let out a choked sob as you already feel your panties starting to stick to you like a second skin from how wet you were getting and Seungcheol can’t help but chuckle.
“You know, you’re technically allowed to cum whenever you want. It’ll just… slow you down, is all.” Grinning, he watches as you look beyond the camera towards him as you pout.
“But I--I wanna win!” You cry; palms clammy as you try to rush through the fifth stage, only for your character to fall almost immediately. “Nooo~”
Seungcheol clicks the vibrator to its highest setting and your body goes rigid as the vibrations wreck your body. You start to grind against the toy as you chase your orgasm and forget about the game almost completely. In a perfect world, Seungcheol would have his cock snug between your walls, but instead you clench around emptiness as you crave his cock.
artist8hao: ah shes already cumming lol
seokGENIE: on level 5? Fuck
universe_WZ: her cute lil cunt cant take it, poor babygirl
seokGENIE has donated $50
emerald.tae has donated $75
alphagyu97: cum baby, u kno u wanna
alphagyu97 has donated $75
A small choked whine is all you can manage before you do cum; eyes clamped shut and fingers wrapped tight around the computer mouse as the waves of pleasure crash down onto your body. Donations and comments flood the side of the screen from a combination of your viewers and Jeongguk’s as they watch your face contort in pleasure.
“Ah, sweetheart, you’re really falling behind~ JK is going through the stages so quickly while you’re sitting there cumming~” Seungcheol teases. He licks his lips, simultaneously wishing you were sitting on his cock while you played your game.
That’d have to be for another time, he thinks.
It takes a second for Seungcheol to turn the toy off and your body immediately slumps forward as you catch your breath. “Ngh, d-damn it…” You grimace when you re-adjust yourself and find your panties soaking wet.
“I’m already on level 17, babe. You gotta catch up!”
You can only groan in response, flexing your clammy fingers before you try to focus on your own screen again.
kitty_junjun: oho looks like our princess is focused now
tangerine_kwan: u got this baby
j__min: show ‘em who’s boss, babygirl
You tune out the sounds of the comments and donations as you manage to get yourself to level eight without falling, but level nine proves to be just a little too hard as your character falls and Seungcheol turns the vibrator back on to its lowest setting again.
“Be careful, baby. Wouldn’t want to fall behind again would you?”
Seungcheol feels his cock throbbing in his sweats as he watches you bite your lip. And for the first time all night, he wishes that Jeongguk would just win and go home so that he could have his own private time with you.
“I’m on level 22 already. D’you think she can even catch up?” Jeongguk teases. He spares you a side glance, taking in your form slumped closer to the table as you try to fight the vibrations.
Your body was already extremely sensitive from your first orgasm and you quickly losing your confidence as you struggled to keep your character upright. If you came even just one more time, there was no way that you’d be able to beat Jeongguk with how quickly he was going through the stages.
therealchan99: she’s cumming just as quickly as JK is getting thru the stages hfdsf
gentleman_josh95: shes so cute when she cums tho
angelhan has donated $50
angelhan: thats the real prize angel
“T-thank you…” You whimper out, fingertips twitching against the keyboard and mouse as you focus your attention to the game to the best of your ability.
You manage to get to level ten with no more issues just as Jeongguk gets to level 25 and you let out an exasperated sigh as your character falls over again. “Uh oh~ I think I’m gonna win!” Jeongguk cheers; giddiness washing over him as he works to get to the end.
“Nooo~ That’s n-not, ah, fair!” Whining, you grip the mouse tighter as Seungcheol raises the setting on the toy again, watching as you rub your thighs together at the feeling.
hoshi_tiger_xx: sadly nothings fair in the gaming world babe
hoshi_tiger_xx has donated $50
dtsug__a has donated $50
dtsug__a: cute for thinkin so tho
“I don’t th--think I can, hah, c-catch up...” You moan. Your character on screen falls over one more time and all you hear is Seungcheol’s small ‘tsk’ under his breath as he sets the vibrator to the highest setting and leaves it there.
It doesn’t take long before the vibrations prove to be too much for you and you let go of the keyboard and computer mouse as your hands ball up into fists on top of the table.
The pleasure washes over you in sharp pin pricks; small whines and whimpers falling from your lips as your eyes completely clamp shut.
Jeongguk lets out a surprised noise at the way the donations and comments almost make the screen lag and for the first time, his character on screen falls over at his split second loss of focus.
“Ah, fuh--fuck!” You start to squirm once the pleasure starts to bleed into overstimulation and Seungcheol is quick to respond, “You’re gonna cum one more time as punishment for giving up, sweetheart.”
alphagyu97: ooo she's in troubleeee
gentleman_josh95: ahhh daddy still has to punish you after all
seokGENIE: damn is this what this channels abt? this is hot
artist8hao: babygirl always misbehaves
chwenon: she seems to like it too much 😏
dtsug__a: hooooo shit, thats hot
“It’s n-not my f-fault, hah, JK is j-just good at g-gaming...” You mumble.
Jeongguk manages to get to level 30 within the time you sit and grind against the toy; small noises of excitement falling from his lips as he cheers for himself!
“Aww, poor baby. Maybe you’ll focus a bit better next time, hmm?”
You nod frantically as a small tear slips down your cheek and your lips part in a breathy moan. “God, I--I’m c--cumming!”
Your body locks up, ears ringing as you cum one more time. Seungcheol wishes he could work you through it; hands massaging your skin as you take your pleasure or thrusting his cock into you as he chased his high with you.
Instead he watches from across you as your body twitches as your face contorts in unadulterated bliss, licking his lips the entire time with images of what could’ve been dancing behind his eyelids.
Jeongguk watches as the donations far surpass what the two of you made on his channel; brows disappearing into his poofy head of hair. “Wow, uh, y’all seem to really like it when she gets punished, huh?” He mutters under his breath.
“Don’t you?” Seungcheol teases.
“Truuuuue.”
A garbled moan has both of their attention on you as you try to shy away from the toy still vibrating against your overly sensitive clit. “Ah, ‘m too sen--sensitive now...” You cry.
Seungcheol turns the toy off completely as your chest heaves in deep breaths; pouting at the fact he wasn’t able to enter the camera frame to take care of you.
Jeongguk grimaces slightly at the way your body sways in tiredness next to him, unsure of what to do next now that he’d won.
“Haha, um, medic?”
#cherrybomb!cheol#seungcheol smut#scoups smut#seventeen smut#svt smut#scoups scenarios#scoups imagines#seungcheol imagines#seungcheol scenarios#seventeen scenarios#svt scenarios#seventeen imagines#svt imagines#svt fic#seventeen fic#scoups#seungcheol
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Bedside Manner
YOU GUYS. I just hit 400 followers here on the tumble machine. I cannot thank you guys enough for your love and support and allowing me to explore this side of my creativity with you <3 To celebrate, I asked some of my friends in @continentcakeshop to give me pairings to go with a short list of prompts. So over the next little while, I will be posting 6 fics to fill those prompts!
For Prompt #2, we have "This is gonna hurt like a bitch" for @jayofolympus <3
Relationship: Letho/Gaetan
Rating: Mature
Content Warnings: hurt/comfort, wound treatment, blood, witcher first aid, stitches
Summary: Unstoppable Force meets Immovable Object when the ever patient Letho tries to help impossibly stubborn Gaetan with a fresh wound.
“-f you don’t fuckin’ sit still, you slinky little shit-”
“AH-no! Quit manhandling me, you great boar, I’ll be just fine if you just let me go-”
The hand gripping onto Gaetan’s bicep tightened as he gave one last effort to twist away from Letho’s grasp. “You tellin’ me you’re to stitch your side up by yourself? Even ‘round your back? And what of the venom already spreadin’ down your arms? How’re you gonna do all that when your hands stop workin’?”
Gaetan clenched his jaw and looked up, meeting the honey-golden eyes of the Witcher still holding onto him. “While I’m sure that I could-” he rolled his eyes as Letho scoffed, “I suppose I could use your help. This once.”
“Mhm. Right.” Letho all but dragged him to rest at the base of a nearby tree, leaving a tingling echo of his hand on Gaetan’s arm when he finally released his grip. “This is gonna hurt like a bitch. Got your kit with ya?”
Gaetan swallowed and looked up to where Letho now was squatting down in front of him with a grin, “Well, no. Shit’s heavy, gotta stay light on my feet. Don’t you roll your eyes at me, I don’t see your kit-”
And with that, seemingly from thin air, a carefully wrapped bundle dropped down into Gaetan’s lap. “Don’t need to see it to have it,” Letho rumbled as he untied the strings holding it closed, reaching in and rummaging around for what he was searching for. His hands, so large one would assume innate clumsiness, were light and gentle as he pulled out a few bottles and set them on the ground at Gaetan’s side, along with a needle and stitching thread.
“Gonna need to get this off of ya,” Letho grumbled as he dropped one knee to the ground, shoving his emptied aid pack to the side and reaching for the bronze buckles on Gaetan’s armor.
His hand was easily batted away though as Gaetan crinkled his brow, “Oh, no no. No, don’t need to do all that-”
“You want me to stitch you into your damned armor?” Letho crooked his head to the side as he spoke with a seemingly endless well of patience and more than a bit of teasing on his tongue.
Gaetan narrowed his eyes and glanced around the empty forest. “F-fine. I’ll take it off though, no need for the help.”
He felt Letho’s eyes on him as his fingers deftly unclasped the thick leather buckles and slid the pieces off of his shoulders and onto the ground behind him.
“Shirt too.”
“Yeah, yeah. No shit. J-just kinda stretching a bit far-”
“Ya know,” Letho drawled, resting his hand gently on Gaetan’s knee, “nothin’ wrong with havin’ a bit o’ help. ‘Specially if that help knows what they’re doin’.”
Gaetan took a deep breath through his nose and fought off every urge to take off for the hills and willed himself into reason. “I know that you’re right, Letho. You always are-”
“Not always.”
“Most of the time, yeah. I’m just-”
“A skittish Cat who’s been fucked over more times than he can count?”
A beat of silence passed between them as they looked at each other, really seeing past the mutated gold of their eyes and into the person beneath. “Yeah,” Gaetan swallowed thickly, “yeah, exactly.”
“Gonna let me help anyway?” Letho smirked, his brow warped by the wicked scar that trailed down over his cheek.
Gaetan bit his lip and sat up gingerly. “Alright, big guy. ‘S fine.”
Letho nodded and carefully brought his hand up to untuck Gaetan’s chemise from his trousers, slipping it away and off of his uninjured side before peeling the blood-sticky linen from the wound at his hip.
“Might could use this for vampire bait.”
“Oh, shut up.”
Letho chuckled and let the soiled shirt drop to the ground. Gaetan felt his eyes track over his skin and he shivered under the intense gaze, averting his own eyes off to the horizon.
“Doesn’t actually look too bad,” Letho carefully dragged his thumb over the tender skin around the wound, causing a bright searing pain to brand out like fire. “That’d be the venom, though.”
He reached over and grabbed one of the bottles, filled with a hazy amber liquid. “Drink up, down it in one.”
Gaetan nodded and pulled out the cork, the scent of spirit and honeysuckle and spice wafting up to his nose. Ah, White Honey. An old friend. “Damn, Letho. You’ve got the good shit,” he said after it slid down his throat with barely the hint of a burn to accompany it.
“Can’t stand the potions,” Letho grumbled as he adjusted himself to get a closer look at Gaetan’s side, “But the stronger you brew ‘em, the easier they are to keep down.”
“Can’t argue ther-OOOOOOO SONOFABITCH-” Gaetan dug his nails into the first thing he could reach, which just so happened to be Letho’s shoulder, as the needle pierced into his skin and started a pace that was all efficiency.
Letho’s brow was furrowed while he worked, spacing the stitches out and being careful to leave stretching space for healing. “Go on, kitty. Let it out-”
“Youneedtoworkonyourbedsidemanner-” Gaetan hissed and let his head thunk back on the tree behind him.
It was all over and done with rather quickly though, with Letho pouring a splash of spirit over the fresh stitches and patting it off with a clean rag. “Don’t go tearin’ it open now. Give it a good day or two, should heal up fine.”
Letho moved to reassemble his pack and shift back away from Gaetan, but the Cat kept his hand firmly on his shoulder. “Letho?”
“Yeah, Gaetan?”
He looked up into those world-weary eyes that always felt so damned familiar and leaned to place a soft kiss to the corner of Letho’s lips, feeling them turn up into a smile, “Thank you, for everything.”
“‘Course, kitten. Always.”
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reid’s anatomy
summary: spencer gets a gunshot wound while working in the field and gets transported to the hospital you work in as a 4th year resident.
word count: 2,325 reading time aprox: 9 mins
masterlist
Gurneys, lights, flying commands, and patients. The trauma room was my favorite place to be, other than the OR of course, it felt like a second home. But nothing compared to the home I had when I laid in Spencer’s arms.
I was currently working in the trauma room, triaging the patients as I did my rounds. I dismissed a few individuals that had minor injuries, while discovering various accidents that required solutions as small as stitching up a patient to booking an OR for an emergent surgery.
“Honey can you move your toes for me please?”
In front of me lay my latest patient, a 5 year old boy who had been pushed off of a swing set and had happened to land on his ankle. His cheeks were painted red from the crying he had previously done, a thumb cemented into his mouth as he continued to suck on it for comfort. His mother sat beside him, panic evident in her eyes, although she kept an amiable expression to reassure her son on his well being.
The boy shook his head frantically, earning a break in composure from the mother. She reached out and folded her hand over her son’s and held on tight to it, with a tight-lipped smile on her face.
“You’re going to be okay Timothee, mommy’s right here sweetie”. The mother squeezed her son’s hands continuously, looking to me for answers.
“Your son- well Timothee here seems to have sprained his ankle” I explained in layman's terms, lifting up the boys ankle to locate where the injury occurred. “The issue here is that he seems to have an eversion ankle sprain and has fractured his deltoid ligament, which is more uncommon than a inversion ankle sprain, since the deltoid ligament is close to impossible to fracture”.
As I finished my description, the mother returned her attention to her son, massaging his head to console him. “We-well it’s just a sprained ankle right? It can heal. My husband has had multiple sprained ankles from how much of a klutz he is” She joked in attempt to lighten the mood. Despite her attempts, there was more news to deliver.
“I wish it was much more simpler than that” I sighed, motioning for the on-call nurse to come over. “Due to Timothee’s young age, my biggest concerns are the development of his bones, considering the fracture he had suffered and that the nerves responsible for motor skills in his legs might have been severed. In most adult cases, the individual is able to recover because the durability of the bone had been fully realized from age. But, Timothee here is at risk of deformation of his osseous matter” I doefully confessed, a small pit forming in my stomach while delivering his diagnosis.
As the mother’s face dropped, I turned to the nurse telling her to call Neuro and Peds, then asked her to file the paperwork. I looked back at the small family with a sigh, placing his chart at the end of the bed.
It was moments like these that make me envision the life I’m going to have with Spencer if we ever decided to have children together. Despite our young age, I couldn’t help up configure an idealistic future than only composed of me, Spencer, and 2 or 3 little children running around us in glee.
“The nurse will be back with the pape-”
I was cut off by sirens and a magnitude of shrilling voices shouting commands. These were the indications of an incoming trauma. I turned around to peak for a second with the possibility of wanting to check on another case, but the interns and 2nd year residents had beat me to it.
My focus remained on the child in front of me, checking his vitals from time to time, while eavesdropping on the commotion behind me.
“We’ve got a caucasian ma...federal...with a GSW in the thoracic cavity, with intercostal tears”. Most of the sentence was muffled by the loud wheels of the crash cart, residents fumbling around, and the attendings yelling orders at the scene. I turned around to witness the chaotic scene, only to be meet with heads full of hair and some that didn’t actually have hair at all.
Geez, I wouldn’t want to be the guy with the GSW to his chest
In emergent surgery, GSW’s were the most lethal in the clinic as most of the time the patient is either too late or the bullet had caused multiple complications in the patient, causing distress in the body. The tricky thing about GSWs were that they were different every time, it was almost always a different procedure depending on the location.
I nodded goodbye to the perturbed mother, earning a tight lipped smile and a nod back. I turned to walk towards the nurses station when suddenly I was paged to trauma room 3. I rushed over to the area, sanitizing my hands before walking in. A privacy drape hung from the lower abdomen of the individual, with nurses and residents scrambling to keep his vitals stabilized.
I faced the trauma nurse as she explained the patients situation. “We’ve got a caucasian male, seems to be 25-35 with a GSW in his thoracic cavity with no exit wound, the bullet is possibly lodged in the pericardial cavity” She spoke in haste.
“Push 10 of Norepinephrine and call Cardio” I stressed, rushing out of the room to find another resident to scrub into the surgery as I wasn’t finished with my rounds yet.
On my way around the nurse’s desk I noticed a familiar face that sat glum and slumped over in his chair, well it was more like a familiar group of faces. My steps slowed in order to get a better view to confirm my suspicions, then shuffled over to determine what the occasion was.
“Hey Morgan-hey guys” I furrowed my eyebrows at the group, my worry peaked at the numerous melancholy expression that they wore on their faces. Despite my observations, there was one face I noticed was missing from the ensemble.
Spencer.
A chill ran up my arm, which was usually an indication of something wrong. In spite of the unfavorable pit in my stomach, I was at my workplace where everything usually puts me on edge, so I pushed it aside.
“Where’s Spenc-”
My words faded out into an uncomfortable silence when Morgan lifted his head to face me and in his eyes were the deepest of browns, anguish pooled in his irises, similar to the look I gave to the mother of the patient I was treating previously. I glanced at the rest of the team, who wore a identical stares.
My stomach had churned and twisted into knots. The chill that had ran up my arm traveled to my legs, all the way to the tips of my toes. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion, I could feel my heart still and my fingers twitch. The overhead lights of the clinic became overwhelmingly bright and a nauseating sensation began crawling up my throat.
“Y/N-” Morgan began as I stared at him wide-eyed. He grabbed one of my hands and wrapped it in between his rough and sweaty palms, but I tensed in the midst of it, while adrenaline ran up my veins.
“Reid, he’s...we-we were workin- I...he’s”
Despite his attempts at an explanation, he wasn’t able to complete any of his phrases as I yanked my hand out of his grasp and bolted towards the trauma room. I heard my name being called in the background, although it became a voice of a phantom as my surroundings became impaired with the sounds of my heartbeat, the loud thuds my feet made as I raced towards the room, and the anxious thoughts that flooded my mind.
I pushed into the room, only to see a bed was missing. I bee lined to where the residents were, pivoting around the various carts that decorated the room. “Where’s that patient with the GSW in his thoracic cavity? What resident was assigned on his case? What was his name?”. The words spewed out of my lips like a waterfall, earning alarmed looks from the residents.
“Um, he was transported to OR 3″ One of them explained with naive looks on their faces.
“Yeah, they’re in surgery right now with Dr. Burke and Dr. Montgomery” Another one added.
“What’s the patient’s name? Do you remember?” I responded, prying them of all the information they knew. The residents peered at each other dumbfoundedly, looking at each other for answers as if they were taking their MLE exams again.
“Dr. Y/L/N, no offense but you’re not on this case” One of the residents added with a condescending voice.
“Dr. Mallory, if you don’t answer me in the matter of 10 seconds, I swear I will go to your senior resident and have you be doing scut for the rest of your medical career” I retorted. Fear was evident in all their eyes, I knew my eyes were brimming with multiple emotions, condensing into nothing but a fiery and aggressive tone.
“Sp-spencer Reid, Ma’am” A quiet voice spoke up in the group. I nodded a small thank you to the individual and ran to the OR where they held Spencer.
When I got into the prep room, I grabbed a face mask and entered the OR, witnessing a man’s body, the love of my life under heavy anesthesia and tubes wired up to his chest. Before I could speak, the attending spoke up and questioned me of my presence.
“I-i was wondering if I could scrub in sir” I replied. “I-I, um, heard that there was in upc...incoming trauma for a GSW and I was wondering if I could scrub in” I repeated.
“You already said that Dr. Y/L/N”
“I understand sir, but I-”
The attending than turned around exposing the sight of Spencer’s chest being retracted open. My entire body ached at the sight, the lifelessness of his body creating an image in my head that couldn’t compare to the images Spencer would see of his victims. I cringed and turned away, tears threatening to spill from my eyes, but I knew I couldn’t let myself go, especially if I wanted to be included in Spencer’s operation.
“Dr. Y/L/N, with all respect, I know you’re one of the best residents we have in this hospital and I know you’re a phenomenal doctor” The attending explained, letting one of the other senior residents take over for a moment. “But, I also know who this is laying on my table. For this case, you’re not his doctor, you’re family, and I need you to trust that I am able to do my job, as you do yours” He concluded, signaling to one of the nurses to take me out of the OR.
I nodded hesitantly, following the nurse out of the room, my eyes still locked on the individual that lay on the table. After the nurse had went back inside, I sat on the ground with my hands on my lap, staring at the abyss of the hallway.
Our future depends on if a single man can maneuver his scalpel with enough wisdom and efficiency. The father of my future children lay on the cold metal table, where I used to find comfort and power in when saving someone else’s loved one. Who knew there would be a time where the roles were switched.
Who knew that no matter how many years you’ve trained, how many books you’ve read, and the degrees you’ve obtained to save people’s lives, you could still be powerless against what life throws at you. The worst part is the irony that comes with tragedies. I spent a quarter of my life learning how to save people, yet I sit here purposeless when someone that I live for is struggling to stay alive. How malicious is that.
Tears began streaming down my cheeks, although my expression hasn’t changed. The wetness that enveloped half of my face was the only thing that reminded me of the reality that I was in, keeping my consciousness grounded momentarily.
I swear my heart pauses, everytime I hear a change in the monitor that indicated Spencer’s vitals or a command that the attending would spew out to the helping resident. I was completely fixated on everything that was happening in the room adjacent to me, disregarding the entire atmosphere that lay in my vision.
It wasn’t until large legs halted in front of where I was crouched down. I didn’t bother looking up as my thoughts clouded my sensibility. The figure then sat down to my level, I could feel the individual’s eyes boring at my blank visage. I felt a large arm pull me closer to the individual, only this time I realized it was Morgan who had come to console me.
Awaiting a pursuance of some sort of speech that’s supposed to bring me clarity or amenity. But to my dismay, only the loud presence of silence filled the gap of our exchange. That’s when my emotions began to seep into my skin, filling my heart with heavy matter, making it close to impossible to keep up my facade.
A whimper escaped my lips while I laid on Morgan’s shoulder for the time being, only for the rest of my somber to follow. I cried in defeat, holding onto the clutches of Morgan’s shirt as he gripped onto the back of my head, massaging it in the process.
I felt droplets hit the top of my head and a wetness forming rapidly. Weak sniffles emitted from the man above me, betraying his collected composure. We both sat here together with heavy hearts, waiting for what seemed like an eternity.
We both sat in silence waiting to see if his colleague was alive and if my everything was still breathing.
-
Pt. 2
A/N:
Pt. 2 coming soon! most likely tomorrow. I was going to write the whole thing today, but frankly, I just need a fresh mind.
Part 2 out now
#spencer reid imagines#spencerreid#spencer reid#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid icons#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#matthew gray gubler#matthew gray gubler imagines#spencer x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x oc#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x reader
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Second Chances - Ch. 6
The Coming of the Storm
Warnings: swearing, angst, blood, violence
Word count: ~9650
Two weeks have gone by since your arrival to Horseshoe Overlook. The camp is now up and fully functional. When you haven’t been in camp helping Grimshaw or Pearson, you and Arthur have been out hunting. While most of the meat you get from hunting goes to Pearson, you and the outlaw often stop in Valentine to sell the pelts and horns of the bucks, rams and elk you’ve killed.
You head into Valentine now on Rain with Arthur and his paint horse, who he still hasn’t named, both loaded with pelts. You wrinkle your nose at the heavy odor of livestock animals all throughout the town. For some reason, the roads are always muddy. The people seem simple enough though. You’re sure if you had to go out robbing any of them, it would be easy enough.
You both bring your horses to a stop near the butcher’s outside the Saint’s Hotel and sell him your pelts. Arthur counts his money quickly, then declares he’s going to go into the shop and buy a few things. You agree to meet him in the saloon next to the shop.
You trudge your way through the thick mud and up the steps into the saloon. Since it’s late in the morning, it’s relatively empty, except for a couple of men at the poker table, and a couple more scattered throughout. One of them in the back near the barber looks like a trapper. He’s wearing a mountain of furs with a raccoon hat, his face covered by a wild, tangled beard.
You go to the bartender and order a shot of whisky while you wait for Arthur. Several moments go by, and the doors swing open. You turn to see if it’s him, but instead it’s two young men. From their clothes and the mud that splatters them, you’re sure they’re ranch hands. Probably brought in some livestock to sell and are here for a drink before they return to wherever they came from. They spot you on your lonesome leaning against the bar.
“Well, looky here, George,” one of them nudges the other. He stares at you, and the look in his eye makes you feel anxious. “Ain’t seen a fine thing like this in some time!”
The last word you would use to describe yourself would be ‘fine’, seeing as you haven’t had a proper bath in days. Your hair’s dishevelled, and your shirt and jeans are covered in dirt from hunting. You’re sure you don’t smell the best either.
“You’re sure right, Jeremiah!” the other one says, looking towards you as well. They both approach you, smiling.
“Hey there, little lady,” the one named Jeremiah says, leaning against the bar next to you as you shoot back your drink. “How much for me to get one afternoon with ya?”
You glare at him. “I ain’t a workin’ girl, mister. You want one of them, feast your eyes on the women over there,” you motion to the two girls standing at the back of the saloon, fanning themselves.
Jeremiah takes a step back to look at them, then he leans towards you again. “Who said I thought you was a workin’ girl?”
“I ain’t for sale, mister!” you snarl, turning to face him head on. “And I sure ain’t spending an afternoon with you, money or not.”
“Hey, that ain’t no way for a girl to talk,” George says, getting closer to you.
“Well, apparently I have to, since neither of you seem to understand the meanin’ of the word no.”
George’s face darkens and you can tell he’s thinking of hitting you. It’s a face you saw many times on your husband. You prepare to brace yourself.
“Easy there, fellers,” Arthur says, walking up from behind them, coming to stand next to you. His brow is heavy over his eyes, darkening them. “If you really want her, yer gonna have to go through me.”
The two men size Arthur up; he’s much larger than them.
“Ah, she ain’t worth it,” Jeremiah shoots, waving his hand at you. They both turn away and start talking to the bartender.
You thank Arthur and then notice he’s wearing a new outfit. Black button-up shirt under a stamped red leather vest and a dark green shotgun coat. Dark jeans tucked into black leather half-chaps and black boots. You avert your eyes from his chest, which is slightly exposed under the shirt since he’s left the top two buttons undone and his collar popped up. He still wears his old hat, though.
The two of you turn and order more drinks from the bartender, the two men who had just been harassing you leaving the saloon. You order two more shots. “His is on me,” you say.
“Nah, ya ain’t gotta buy my drinks, Y/N,” he tries to argue.
“Arthur, please. Let me do this for you, since you got rid of those guys.”
He drinks his shot, grunting at the burn. “What they want, anyways?”
“A paid afternoon,” you drink quickly.
“Those sons of bitches. Glad I got here when I did, sounds like they weren’t too keen on leavin’ ya be.”
“Pretty sure you’re right. Nice outfit, by the way.”
He chuckles. “Ah, it was time. Been makin’ enough money from all the huntin’ we been doin’ the last few days.”
“Well, I like it.”
You can’t tell if he’s blushing or not, but he hides his face with the tip of his hat. The two of you have a couple more drinks, then Arthur orders the both of you some lamb’s fry.
“Ya ain’t gotta buy my food, Arthur, I have enough for it myself.”
“I want to. S’too late now,” he smirks at you. God, he could be so stubborn.
You both take to a table and eat. You’re grateful to finally have a meal you don’t either have to cook yourself or that comes out of Pearson’s pot.
The two of you finish and walk out of the saloon. You look to the hotel and see a sign offering baths. Your skin suddenly begins to itch, as though your entire body is hungry for some hot water.
“I’m going to go get myself cleaned up. Meet you at camp?”
“Ya sure ya don’t want me to wait for ya?”
“Arthur, you don’t have to if you don’t wanna. I ain’t makin’ you do nothin’.”
“S’a’right, I’ll wait. I was gonna go look at horses anyways.”
You glance to his paint hitched outside of the hotel.
“What’s wrong with that one?”
Arthur looks at it as well. “Well, nothin’, but it just don’t feel right to be ridin’ a horse from Mrs. Adler’s home. I talked to her earlier, she said I could do whatever I want with it. Still, I might get a different one.”
You nod your head and go into the hotel, paying 25 cents for a bath. You head into the washroom and sink into the long tub, moaning audibly as the hot water laps at your skin.
While your scrubbing your hair, a knock comes to the door. For a second, your stomach clenches at the thought of it maybe being Arthur, but then a woman’s voice rings through the door.
“Need someone to take over for you?” she asks. You breathe out heavily.
“Nah thanks, I’m doin’ okay.”
“No worries! Just doin’ my job.”
You quickly scrub the rest of your body and then sit a few moments, letting your skin soak up the water. You finally decide it’s time to get out and stand up, drying yourself off. You head out of the room and down the hall and see Arthur’s in the lobby, sitting down in a chair.
“What are you doin’?” you ask. “Thought you was lookin’ at horses?”
“I was, but they ain’t got anythin’ really worth lookin’ at right now. Stable master says he’s short on horses to buy for now.”
“Ya didn’t have to wait here for me, though.”
“Ya always this bossy, miss?”
For a second you stare hard at him, then the both of you start laughing as you leave the hotel. You mount your horses and head back to camp.
When you get back, Hosea’s sitting on a rock holding a huge, scoped rifle. He calls Arthur over to him. You hitch Rain next to a massive black shire, who snorts almost angrily as you dismount your horse. You give him a wide berth, not wanting to be kicked.
You head on over to Pearson and give him the things you didn’t sell, including a perfect elk pelt. Grimshaw heads over to you, huffing.
“Glad to see your back, Ms. Y/L/N, but I need you to go help the other girls.”
She leads you to the tented wagons where the others sit. You see the three girls gathered around the canvas that usually covers Hosea’s, Charles’s and Bill’s bedrolls, which seems to have split nearly all the way down the middle. It had rained hard last night, so you’re not surprised the water tore it.
You pass Arthur and Hosea, standing near the black shire. Arthur mounts the tall horse.
“Ya really gonna ride that thing?” you ask him.
“Gonna give it a try, anyways.”
“Don’t worry,” Hosea calls. “He’s as sweet as a kitten as long as I’m around.”
You chuckle at the face Arthur makes, you can tell Hosea hasn’t given him any confidence.
“You goin’ huntin’ again?” you ask as he pats the horse.
“Hosea says there’s a giant bear near some lake. We’re gonna try to get it.”
“Okay, be safe.”
The two men wave at you as they turn their horses and head down the trail, yelling at Lenny that they might be gone a few days.
It’s early the next morning, and you’re on guard duty. You were set on it last night just after sunset by Dutch. You wait patiently, yawning widely, for the next person to come and relieve you. You hear two horses approaching. Hosea comes up the trail on Silver Dollar, and behind him Arthur on a brand new horse. He stops the horse next to you.
She’s huge; an iron gray Ardennes war horse. She flicks her black tail.
“What ya think?” Arthur asks, leaning down on the horn of his saddle.
“What happened to the shire?”
“Ah, stable master was offerin’ a lot of money for that kind of horse, so I sold him. Someone had just brought this girl in, so I figured what the hell?”
You let her sniff your hand and then offer her a beet. You pat her head softly. “She have a name?”
“Artemis.”
“Pretty.”
Just then, Charles comes towards you. “I’m here to take your spot.”
You nod appreciatively, offering him the repeater. Just as you’re about to go back into camp, Arthur calls your attention.
“Lemme give you a ride,” he offers you his hand.
At first you think of saying no, but then you decide to take him up on his offer. You reach up, grasping his arm. He heaves you up easily as though you weigh nothing. You swing your leg over Artemis’ wide hind quarters, and Arthur pushes her into a steady trot.
He hitches the grey horse to the post and dismounts, raising his arms up to help you off. Even though you don’t need it, you oblige. He sets you down easily, smiling at you. You thank him, then stifle another yawn.
“Think I’m gonna go get some rest,” you say. “I hate overnight guarding.”
“Sounds good. Lemme know if you need anything,” the outlaw says, heading over to Pearson’s wagon.
Just as you’re passing Dutch’s large tent to go to your own, you see him sitting under the canvas canopy next to his tent. He snaps his book shut as he hears you approaching.
“Ah, Ms. Y/L/N. Off guard duty, I see.”
“Yes, sir,” you say, stopping.
He stands up and walks over to you.
“Seems like you’re pretty happy here with us. I must admit, I had my doubts about you back at Bison Point.”
He stops, you wonder if he’s waiting for you to talk.
“Yes, sir. I’m pretty happy here.”
“Good. Well, I think you’re debt to us has been settled. Pearson says you and Arthur bring in almost more food than everyone else combined.”
You smile at him. “You mean I could leave?”
He sighs heavily. “If that’s what you really wanted, as long as I know you’d never tell anyone about us.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about that, sir. I don’t want to leave. I ain’t been this happy in years.”
He straightens up, smiling. “Well, good. It’s been nice havin’ you ‘round. I can tell Arthur appreciates your company.”
You hide your face with your hat, trying to hide the blush. “I’ve enjoyed his.”
“And Hosea. He likes you. Says you’re a good kid.”
“Well, I know a few people who’d disagree, ‘cept they’re all dead.”
Dutch chuckles deeply. “Well, I’m glad you’ve found a place among us, miss.”
He walks away, going back to his canopy and opening his book again. You head off to your tent, feeling happy and light.
The next day, you’re standing next to Karen by her tent, enjoying a cup of coffee in the early morning. You spot Arthur strolling past, carrying a hay bale to the horses. He tips his hat towards the two of you when he sets it down and then approaches one of the wagons where Uncle can be seen sitting beside it, snoozing.
“Ugh, I need to get out of this place,” Karen complains. “You been lucky Arthur’s takin’ ya out huntin’ so much. I swear, I hear that woman’s voice one more time…”
You smile and laugh, taking a sip of your coffee when you overhear Arthur and Uncle talking about heading into Valentine. Karen must hear, too, she starts to approach him. Mary-Beth and Tilly follow a step or two behind her.
“Hey, if yer takin’ the old man into town, ya mind takin’ us, too?” she asks him as he lights a cigarette.
“Why? What you got goin’ on?”
“Nothin’.”
“We just need to get out,” says Mary-Beth. You finish your coffee and walk over to the small group. “Karen’s ‘bout ready to murder Grimshaw.”
Arthur huffs. “Can Ms. Grimshaw spare you?”
“Can Ms. Grimshaw spare you?” Karen mocks. “What’s happened to you, Arthur? Four, young healthy women wanna get out robbin’ and yer worried about domestic chores? Let’s go!”
“Ya got me,” he smiles.
The others celebrate for a moment, climbing into the wagon, you following. You swear Arthur winks at you when he passes you. He climbs into the front with old Uncle and whips the horses. They begin moving down the trail, and Uncle suggests a song, to which the other girls start singing but you’ve never heard before, so you just listen.
As the trail approaches the train tracks, a stage coach drawn by two large horses speeds along it ahead of your wagon. You can tell the driver’s lost control. Sure enough, a moment later the horses break loose and dash off the trail.
Arthur pulls the wagon to a stop and walks up to the man, who asks him if he’ll help and retrieve one of the horses. You smile fondly at him when he walks away, grabbing the spooked horse and guiding it back to the man.
“Thank you kindly, sir!” the man says. “You are a gentleman!”
“Not really,” Arthur jokes. “I was just tryin’ to impress the women.”
Arthur gets back into the wagon and carries you on your way to Valentine. He drives it delicately down the main road and stops it outside the stable.
“A’right, I need to go to the store,” Uncle says, climbing off the wagon.
“Right. Me and the others will get to work,” Karen says, beckoning you and the other two to follow her. You’re not entirely sure what she means by get to work, so you catch up to her and ask.
“We just scope out the town, see who we can rob,” she says urgently, leading you to the saloon. “Either you can do it sneaky or you can do favors.”
You didn’t like the idea of doing favors, so instead you decide to see who you can potentially rob. When you were on your own during the past year, you’d occasionally rob people, but your targets back then were always lone men on the trails. Not in the middle of town.
Karen and Tilly approach two men near the bar who seem to be drunk. Mary-Beth follows a girl who looks like she’s a maid out the doors. You spot, towards the back, the two men who had been harrassing you a couple of days ago. Jeremiah and George. You can tell by their stance and loud, carrying voices they’re drunk as they flirt and stumble around the saloon girls. You decide on an angle to work.
Approaching them, you put on a friendly face. George looks up and sees you through bloodshot eyes. “‘Ey, if it ain’t you! Ya come back to take us up on our offer?” He practically punches Jeremiah in the arm, guiding his attention to you. The other man turns and sees you.
“Well, well. Fancy an afternoon?” he laughs loudly. He’s looking a little green in the face. You can tell by the faces of the saloon girls they would rather be somewhere else.
“Listen, you two,” you say politely. “Why don’t you follow me outside to the back? Maybe we can get properly introduced?”
You wink, trying to suppress a shudder. The two men smile and stumble as they follow you out the back door of the saloon. You find the yard has a waist-high fence and a couple of chickens. No one else is around. Good.
The two men trip over their feet a little as they step out onto the dirt. You turn and smile innocently at them.
“Well, little lady,” Jeremiah burps. “Ya ready to get things started right?”
You laugh a little, then you pull out your sawed-off shotgun and point it at them.
“I doubt you two morons will remember this, but I think it’s time you learn that when a girl tells you no, she means no.”
The two men start to holler, but they’re so drunk you’re not worried about them attracting attention. They start trying to get away from you, but they end up tripping over each other. You swing your arm towards George’s face, slapping him with your gun, knocking him out. Jeremiah then promptly vomits over himself, falling down. You kick him in the head for good measure. You bend down and search their pockets quickly, being particularly careful with Jeremiah’s clothes.
You pull out several dollars and a hand-written note. Unfortunately, you can’t read it, so you stuff it into your pocket along with the money, then dash off to the main road.
You look around and see Arthur and Uncle sitting outside the store, waiting for you and the others. You approach the two; Arthur greets you warmly as you sit next to him. He hands you a journal.
“Here, this is for you,” he says. Your chest warms at the idea of him getting you something.
“What’s this?”
“Journal. For ya to practice yer writin’ in. Figured ya could use it.”
You caress the dark, stamped leather of the cover. A pencil, slipped in a tight leather strip, keeps the journal’s flap closed. You slide it out and flick through the thick pages.
“Thank you, Arthur,” you say warmly. He nods to you.
A distraction comes in the form of Mary-Beth dashing up the steps. “Fellers, I just got a tip about a job. Posed as a maid in this big fancy house, usually works. Anyways, these two men were talkin’ about a train going to Saint Denis at night! Could be promisin’!”
“Yeah, them Saint Denise trains are usually full of rich people and things they don’t need,” Uncle nods.
“Sounds good,” Arthur says. “Where’s the others?”
“Karen’s got some drunk man she’s gonna rob, so’s Tilly I think. Oh, there’s Tilly there!” she points across the road. Tilly’s being handled rather roughly by a large, dark man in between the hotel and the bank. “That does not look ideal.”
“‘Scuse me, ladies,” Arthur says, going after her. You stay with Uncle and Mary-Beth, watching him. He must have smoothed things over since he brings out Tilly after a moment. He hollers at Uncle to watch over her while he goes inside to fetch Karen. A few moments later, he comes out after Karen, who has a big cut on her lip. Turns out the guy she was trying to rob turned out to be a violent, drunken bastard who enjoyed hitting women.
“He only punched me,” she says, rubbing her lip. “But Arthur hit him a lot harder.”
“Well, glad you’re okay,” you say.
“Hey, is it just me or is that man starin’ at us?” Mary-Beth says, pointing to a well-dressed man on his horse near the butcher. He sees the lot of you staring at him, and he points to Arthur.
“Ain’t you from Blackwater?”
“No, sir. Not from there.”
“Oh you were! I seen your face!”
Arthur sighs heavily and starts walking over to him. “I ain’t never been to Blackwater. Look, mister, come over here.”
The man panics and spurs his horse into a gallop, running off down the road. Arthur hops onto a nearby Standardbred and dashes off after him.
“Always runnin’ around, that man,” Uncle says, heading back to the wagon. He and the girls get into it, you follow them. Uncle is just about to whip the horses to get them moving when you stop him.
“We ought to wait for Arthur, don’t you think?”
“The man can walk, can’t he?”
You give Uncle a look. “He’ll only be a minute.”
“Fine, better be a fast one though.”
“Don’t know why yer complainin’, old man,” Karen says, still nursing her swollen lip. “Gives you a chance to snooze some more, don’t it? I thought driving horses upset your lumbago.”
“Oh, very funny,” he says, leaning back and crossing his arms as you and the others laugh.
After several moments, Arthur returns, giving the horse back to its owner, thanking him. He climbs back onto the wagon, grabbing the reins.
“That guy dead?” Karen asks.
“Nah, didn’t need to kill him. He knows now to forget our faces. I doubt he’ll give us any problems. Feller tried to kill himself on a cliff. Damn idiot.”
Arthur drives you back to camp. He hops out of the wagon and heads over to Dutch. You pull out the money you stole and the note. You look around, seeing if you can find anyone who can read it. You spot John near the donation box by Dutch’s tent. You approach him.
“Hey John, can you read?”
He turns his face to you. His bandage has been taken off, revealing the stitches across his cheek, nose and lip. The wounds look red and angry still.
“Sure,” he says in his raspy voice. You hand him the note. “Says here that some rancher is movin’ some sheep to auction in Valentine later this month. Where’d you find this?”
“Stole it off some idjits in town.”
“Hmm. Might be a good score. I’ll look into it; see what I can find out. If it seems promisin’, you should come with since you found it.”
“Sound good! Lemme know.”
It’s been a few days since you last left camp, and you’re beginning to get stir crazy and bored. You’re wiping down the round table by Dutch’s tent one afternoon when Arthur trots in on Artemis with an unconscious Swanson draped over the back of his horse. Arthur slides him off and onto his shoulder, carrying him over to his own tent by the main campfire. You and Grimshaw approach him.
“Again, Reverend Swanson?” she asks him as he rolls over, asleep. “What he do this time?”
“Nothin’ good. He was lucky, this time, real lucky.”
You step towards Arthur, curious about what had happened, as he walks away from the fire.
“What did he do?” you ask.
“Ah, he got himself stuck on a bridge right before a train came along. Would’ve been run over if I hadn’t been there. Damn fool; wish he’d stop with that morphine of his. Ain’t doin’ him or anyone else any good.”
You stare off at the incoherent Reverend in his tent sadly, Grimshaw sits beside him as she watches over him. Arthur heads over to Pearson and you follow.
“When you plannin’ on goin’ hunting again?” you ask.
“Why?”
“You know why, Arthur. I need to get out of here, I’m going crazy.”
He smiles at you. “Well, let me talk to Dutch real quick, then maybe you and I can head out.”
You’re surprised he’s willing to leave so late in the day since the sun is already beginning to set.
“A’right, let me know when you’re ready to go,” you say, heading off to your own tent to start packing up a few things. He heads over to Dutch, sitting inside his tent reading a book. You hear them talking, but then your attention is caught by Lenny shouting for Dutch and Arthur. You haven’t seen the boy since leaving Colter, when Dutch sent him and Micah out scouting. You look into the trees behind Lenny, but see no sign of the other man.
“They got Micah in Strawberry!” Lenny shouts, breathing hard. “They nearly lynched me, too, but I got away just in time.”
“Calm down, son,” Dutch says. “Now tell us what happened?”
Lenny bends down, placing his hands on his knees. When he’s caught his breath, he straightens up and explains how he and Micah were in Strawberry, and Micah had a few too many drinks and ended up shooting someone, getting himself arrested.
Dutch pats him on the shoulder. “A’right, son, relax. We’ll deal with this. Arthur, take Lenny into town, get him drunk then head into Strawberry and get Micah out.”
Arthur tries to argue, but Dutch shuts him down. “A’right, fine. Just can’t do everything right now.” He sees you and beckons you over. “Sorry, Y/N, I gotta take care of the kid. Ya mind if we head out in the mornin’?”
“Of course not, Arthur. Go with Lenny.”
He tips his hat to you and leaves. You turn back into camp, wondering what to do now since the daily chores are done. You’re just about to grab a plate of stew when you bump into Strauss.
“Careful there, Y/N,” he saws, dropping the envelopes in his hand.
“Sorry, Herr Strauss,” you start picking them up for him. You can see they’re from the post office. One of them is addressed to Arthur; you’ve been practicing enough reading to be able to recognize his name.
“Here, let me put this in his tent,” you offer. He lets you take the letter and goes off with the others.
Walking into Arthur’s tent, you place the letter on his table next to the picture of his mother. You see the other photo on the ammo crates by his bed, which shows another woman. You get closer to it, trying to see if there’s any familial similarities to Arthur, but you don’t see any. You wonder who she is, and why Arthur has a picture of her.
You wake up the next morning, feeling tired and achy. You probably had one too many beers last night with Uncle and John around the campfire. You get out, shading your eyes from the sun before putting your hat back on. Arthur isn’t in his tent or anywhere else in camp; neither is Lenny. Just as you’re pouring yourself a cup of coffee, Arthur and Lenny both ride in, looking horrible. You try not to smile.
“Had a fun night, did ya?” you ask them. Lenny groans loudly.
“Don’t know if I would really call it fun,” he says, dismounting his horse on uneasy legs. Arthur hops off of his.
“Well, at least it got yer mind off goddamn Micah.”
He approaches you and you offer him your cup of coffee, bending down to pour another one. He thanks you before taking a sip.
“How many drinks you fellers have last night anyways?” you ask.
“Too many.”
You laugh. “Well, ya got a letter from someone. I put it on your table.”
“A letter? From who?”
“Don’t know. Anyways, let me know when you’re ready to go. Take as much time as you need. I don’t want you pukin’ over Artemis if you’re still drunk.”
He guffaws. “Don’t worry ‘bout that, think I’m just about fine. Let me go read this letter, then we’ll go.”
He heads off to his tent. You go and grab your satchel and bedroll, heading over to Rain and strapping them onto her saddle when Arthur rushes over to Artemis. He barely glances at you as he mounts.
“Change of plans, Y/N,” he says quickly. “I gotta go take care of somethin’ personal.”
Without another word, he dashes off down the trail and out of the trees towards Valentine. You wonder what was in the letter that could make him rush off so quickly. You go back to his tent and see the letter still lying there, spread open. You pick it up and read what you can from it. From what words you can make out, you gather that it’s from a woman, asking him to help her. You see her signature on the bottom, but it’s so fancy you can’t read the name.
Not wanting to look like you’re burying your nose into Arthur’s business, you decide not to ask one of the girls to read it to you. You approach Mary-Beth and Tilly, cleaning some clothes by their tented wagons.
“Arthur was sure in a hurry,” Mary-Beth says as you take a seat, grabbing a needle and thread. “Thought he was takin’ you out?”
“Thought so too. But he got a letter from someone, a girl I think. Said he had to go take care of personal business.”
“I bet it’s from that Mary,” Tilly says, aggressively scrubbing one of Bill’s shirts. “If ya ask me, she ain’t worth it. Don’t know why he goes runnin’ off to her the moment she even mentions his name.”
“Mary? Who is she?”
Mary-Beth and Tilly look at each other, almost as though they’re debating on telling you. Mary-Beth leans towards you with a soft expression; she almost looks sad.
“Look, Y/N, I know you’re sweet on Arthur, but maybe ya ought to let it go.”
You feel yourself blush. “I ain’t sweet on Arthur.”
“Please,” Karen says as she walks up to you, holding a repeater. She must be about ready to go on guard duty. “We all see the way you look at him when he comes into camp.”
“Yeah, that and the way you blush when he offers to take you places,” Tilly chimes in.
“Ladies, we’re just friends!”
“Nah, to us Arthur is just a friend. But you don’t see him offerin’ to take us hunting,” Karen says. “And you don’t see us trippin’ all over ourselves whenever he’s around.”
Mary-Beth giggles. “It’s really cute, actually. But, Y/N, Mary’s a part of his past he ain’t willin’ to let go of. We keep hopin’, she ain’t good for him, but as you saw he goes gallivantin’ off to her on just a whim.”
“What happened between them?” you ask again.
Mary-Beth, Tilly and Karen fill you in on the story of Arthur and Mary. They don’t know the full story themselves since it was before they had joined the gang, but they had heard enough from Hosea and Grimshaw. They had been lovers when Arthur was fairly young, around the age of twenty. However, Mary came from a decent family and her father intensely disliked Arthur because of his way of life. In the end, Mary chose her family over Arthur and married another man.
“I can understand why she didn’t choose Arthur,” Karen said. “This life ain’t for everyone. But it’s the way she uses him still. Whenever she needs someone to do a job that’s too rough or dirty for her, she calls him and he goes. Every time.”
“He still loves her,” Mary-Beth says sadly. “That’s why he keeps goin’. And every time he comes back from doin’ her jobs, he’s always so sad and sayin’ that she won’t have him since he won’t change.”
“I never liked her,” Tilly adds in. “I saw her once when I was out on a job with Arthur. We were tryin’ to rob someone and she showed up. I swear she insulted him at least three times in ten minutes, then layered them by sayin’ she still loved him. She’s got him wrapped around her finger tight.”
You feel the pain of their words inside of you. It must show on your face, Mary-Beth leans forward and puts a hand on your knee. “I’m real sorry, Y/N. Arthur’s a good man, he deserves someone like you.”
“Nah, he don’t,” you say, hanging your head. “I let go of the fantasy of ever having a happy life a long time ago. Arthur fits into that. Besides, no man in their right mind would ever want to be with me.”
The others go silent for a moment. Then Tilly speaks up again.
“We’ve all tried to tell him she ain’t worth the trouble; he’s better off without her. He always says he understands, but I don’t think he ever hears us. Maybe you should talk to him. He might listen to you.”
You shrug your shoulders, doubtful.
Grimshaw suddenly tramples her way over to your group, screaming. “Now ain’t the time for gossip, you four! Get back to work! Karen, you were supposed to take over for Bill ten minutes ago!”
You, Mary-Beth and Tilly fall silent, returning to your tasks. Karen starts walking towards the trees, but not before pointing the repeater and pretending to shoot Grimshaw in the back as she walks away.
It’s early afternoon by the time Arthur returns. By then, your emotions have completely spiraled out of control. While feeling heartbroken by what the others told you, you also feel anger. Anger at Mary, the way she uses him. Angry at Arthur for letting her. Angry at yourself for feeling this way. He approaches you at Pearson’s wagon.
“Sorry for that, Y/N,” he says warmly. “You still wanna go huntin’?”
“Can’t,” you say coldly. Arthur looks at you, confused at your snap. You’ve never been short with him.
“Grimshaw needs me,” you add, trying not to let your emotions show. You know you really shouldn’t be angry with him since it truly isn’t your business, but you can’t help feeling like he’s betrayed you somehow. “Sorry.”
He takes a step back, his smile sliding off his face. “That’s a’right. Well, I do need to go huntin’, Pearson’s gettin’ low again. You and I should go in a few days though, ya deserve a break.”
Arthur leaves and goes to Artemis. You turn back to your pile of carrots, feeling stupid. Why do you even care so much? From what it sounds like, Mary only calls him on occasion. It’s not like she’s around camp, distracting him constantly. Still, you know Mary-Beth and Tilly are right. You’ve grown feelings for the outlaw, something you’ve tried bitterly to prevent. If your past had taught you anything, it was that you are not designed to be with someone who could love you because there is no one who could love you. Besides, you doubt that he feels anything towards you. Most likely, he just sees you as a friend, nothing more.
You cut the carrots, trying to ignore the stinging of your eyes, betraying your tears. You take your feelings out on the vegetables, cutting them up far more than usual.
The sun is beginning to set when Arthur returns with a deer and two turkeys, turning them over to Pearson. You’ve been nursing a bottle of whisky the last half hour, getting steadily more tipsy. He approaches you where you sit by the campfire with Hosea and Uncle, who’s singing a song you’re quietly humming to.
“Ain’t seen you drink that much since that time in Bison Point when you fell off your horse and thought you broke your ankle,” Arthur chuckles at you. You stare up at him.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t break my ankle then and it ain’t broken now,” you say sharply. He sits down next to you. You offer him the bottle and he takes it.
“What’s goin’ on with you?” he asks quietly so the others won’t hear.
“What you mean?”
“I mean you ain’t been actin’ like yerself ever since this mornin’. Is it because I had to take care of that thing? Look, I’ll make it up to ya. We can go huntin’ whenever you want.”
For some reason, your temper gets the better of you. You’ve forgotten that alcohol always makes it harder to control and hide your emotions.
“I need to talk to you. Alone,” you say, standing up.
Arthur stands up, setting the bottle of whisky down. You lead him off into the trees, past a broken wagon and down the hill, towards the river. You take him to the bottom, right before the trees stop and the main trail winds its way along the river. You lean against a large boulder and turn to him finally.
“I know about Mary,” you finally say, the alcohol fueling the fire in your chest.
Arthur looks at you, his face is hard.
“What about Mary?”
“Arthur, look, it ain’t really none of my business but the other girls told me about her. She.. doesn’t sound like she’s a good person, and I just don’t want…”
Arthur cuts you off. “You’re right, it ain’t none of yer business, so why you talkin’ ‘bout her?”
“I’m just trying to help,” you shoot back. “Sounds like she just likes havin’ you around to do stuff for her.”
“There’s nothin’ for you to help with, Y/N,” he growls. “She’s a part of my past ya know nothin’ about.”
“I know, Arthur. But please, listen to me. I know you love her, and I know she loved you once. At least, that’s what the others told me. But answer me honestly. Do you really think she still loves you?”
Arthur sighs heavily, you can tell he’s getting angry. You’ve seen it before, like a fast-approaching storm, but it’s never been directed at you. “Like I said, it ain’t none of yer business what goes on between me and Mary.”
“Arthur, please just listen to me. If she truly loves you, would she treat you this way?”
“I was helpin’ her with her brother! It weren’t like she was usin’ me!”
“Why did she need your help with her brother? She ask you to shoot someone? Beat someone up?”
Arthur’s face darkens. “He got himself stuck with those damn Chelonian fools. It didn’t require me to hurt no one! Is that what you think she does? Asks me to go kill people for her?” he takes a step towards you, looming over you. You take a step back, feeling nervous.
“No, that’s not what I meant. But this is what I been tryin’ to say, Arthur. She knows that no matter what kind of life you live, no matter what choices you make, you are a good man and you’ll always help her. I just don’t want you to waste your life on someone who doesn’t deserve you!”
“And who would you rather me waste my life on? You?”
You feel like he just punched you in the chest. He must know somehow about your feelings. Did one of the other girls tell him? You stand up straight, glaring at him.
“I never said I deserved to be with you, Arthur. For God’s sake, don’t! I already know I’m gonna die alone, but you don’t have to share that fate.”
The two of you stare angrily at each other for a moment. You blink away the angry tears in your eyes. “I promise you though, Arthur, you will die alone just like me if you keep chasin’ after her. If she decided not to be with you then, why would she change her mind now?”
Arthur’s hand flies up, and you flinch, expecting the hit. Instead, he takes his hat off and rakes his fingers through his hair in frustration. He stares at you, confused, as you stand hunched over with your hands raised above your head. Recognition dawns on his face, and he lowers his hand slowly.
“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he says quietly. “Ya know I’d never…”
“I know, I know,” you mumble, lowering your hands and slowly straightening up. You feel ashamed of how you reacted, even if it was involuntary. The two of you stand awkwardly. Arthur takes several steps back. You can tell he’s still angry.
“Arthur, look, I’m sorry. For everything. I’m just tryin’ to look out for you,” you almost whisper.
He looks away from you and rests his eyes on a bush. “I don’t need you to look out for me, Y/N. I can take care of myself. Besides, it ain’t none of yer business.”
He turns and stalks away from you and back up the hill. When he’s gone, you feel the tears slide down your hot cheek. You sink down to the ground and let them run. This was not how you planned this conversation to go. In fact, it went as bad as it possibly could have. Not only have you hurt him, your best friend, but now he knows you have feelings for him.
Feeling betrayed, angry, and confused, you rip out clumps of grass, tearing them apart in your hands. Through your tears, you watch the full moon glide across the sky, reflecting in the steady river. Hours pass, and you can’t find the strength or the courage to stand up and return to camp. You doubt you’ll ever be able to look Arthur in the face again, let alone speak to him. Why couldn’t you just accept the fact that he won’t ever feel for you the way you feel for him? Why couldn’t you take that he was always going to choose her over you? Why couldn’t you just accept that you’re always going to be alone? Hell, it had been easy enough before he found you.
The sky begins to lighten, and you’re still sat by the boulder where Arthur left you. You wipe the long-dried trails of tears from your face and rub your tired eyes. You tell yourself to grow up, to stop acting like a child, and pick yourself up off the ground. You march up the hill. The walk back to camp seems a lot longer than it did last night. Maybe you’re just dreading facing reality.
You walk into the silent camp. Hardly anyone is stirring yet, most of them are still asleep. The exception is Swanson, sitting on the ground near the campfire, but it’s clear he’s been dipping into his supply of morphine again. You drag your eyes to Arthur’s tent, afraid of what you might see. To your relief, his cot is empty, and upon further inspection of the camp, you find that Artemis is gone. He’s obviously left. Probably back to Mary. You can’t say you blame him. You force yourself to walk over to your tent, practically falling down onto your bedroll and into sleep.
A few hours go by, and you’re awakened by Grimshaw’s yelling.
“Of course, yer lazin’ about!” she squawks at you, thumping on the canvas above your head. You tiredly crawl out of the tent and she grabs you by the ear.
“Get over there and do your work!” she tosses you over to the washbin by Tilly’s tent and you obediently get on your knees and start scrubbing some clothes. She marches away to the other side of camp.
After you massage your ear, you look around the camp with sore eyes. It’s early afternoon. Arthur’s horse, Artemis, is still missing, for which you are grateful. Mary-Beth approaches you.
“You a’right? Ya look awful?”
You smile sadly. “I’m fine, Mary-Beth.”
She pauses. “I guess things didn’t go well with Arthur last night.”
You look up at her. “You couldn’t hear us, could you? I didn’t think we were being very loud.”
“No, but I saw the two of you leave. Then he came back by himself. I ain’t seen him look that way in a long time. Then he got on his horse and left. Ain’t seen him since.”
You drop your eyes back to the soapy water before you. “What did he look like?”
“Hard to say, really,” she says after sighing and sitting down on a crate. “Like he was heartbroken, honestly, but angry too. He didn’t say nothing to anyone either before he left.”
“Well, you’re right in thinking things didn’t go well. God, I’m such a fool. I really thought I might have a chance with him if he wasn’t involved with her. Guess that Mary’s right about one thing. He’ll never change. Besides, he’s right to stay away from me.”
Mary-Beth is silent for several moments. “Why… why’d you kill your family?”
You stop, taken aback by the question. The last thing you want to talk about is your past. “I just… had to. I needed to get away from them and the only way I could was to kill ‘em.”
You go back to scrubbing the clothes, raking them across the washboard.
“Your husband, was he a good man? If you don’t mind my askin’,” she asks softly.
“No. I’d never met him before my dad told me I was engaged to him. He hated me, though, I know he did. And I hated him.”
“That’s awful. I can’t imagine bein’ engaged to someone I’d never met.”
“Yeah, it was. I tried to learn to love him, but he made that impossible. It taught me one thing though. True love doesn’t exist. It’s just something from fairy tales.”
“I never really saw it that way,” she says, looking off across camp. “I’ve read so many books that I can’t not believe it exists. How could so many different people only believe in such a beautiful thing without having felt it?”
“Guess I never really thought of it that way. Well, if it is real, it surely wants nothin’ to do with me.”
The two of you sit in silence before Mary-Beth offers to read to you from one of her books. You accept her offer, glad for the distraction from your own dark thoughts.
Grimshaw sets you on night duty, under the impression that you had slept the previous night and simply overslept this morning. You stand there, near the trail, your thoughts circling around one another when you hear a horse coming in. You grab the repeater tighter in your hands. Arthur comes up the trail on Artemis, several pelts on her back. You avert your eyes from him, and he passes you in silence. You wish you could say something to him, apologize maybe, but you doubt he’d want to listen to anything you have to say.
Several moments after he passes, you head up to camp for a drink. You go to Pearson’s wagon and grab a bottle, drinking from it greedily. Arthur isn’t anywhere to be seen, but you can hear him talking to Dutch. From what it sounds like, he’s going to be near camp for the next few days. You don’t know if you’re ready to face him yet. You come to a decision.
After a few hours, when you’re sure most of the camp and most importantly Arthur are asleep, you return to the clearing. Javier and Uncle are the only ones awake, sitting by the main camp fire. You find Arthur fast asleep in his cot, his journal lying on his chest. You quietly pass him and go to the other side of the wagon that forms his tent and look at the map that is stuck to the side. It shows New Austin, West Elizabeth, Ambarino, New Hanover and a state you’ve never been to called Lemoyne. You look over it and focus on New Hanover, trying to find hunting grounds you’ve never been to. You focus on an area called Roanoke Ridge up near a town called Annesburg. Deciding on that, you turn away from the wagon again, heading back down to the trees to return to guard duty. A familiar voice calls you.
“What you doin’, Y/N?” It’s Arthur. You turn and look back at him. He’s sitting up in his cot. You’re soft footsteps must have woken him, you’ve forgotten how light of a sleeper he is.
“Nothing, Mr. Morgan. I’m sorry,” you say, hoping he’ll find more in that apology than simply waking him. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just… looking for something.”
He says nothing but continues to stare at you, his face hard. You turn away and leave, hoping he won’t come after you. You enter the trees and sigh hard, feeling like you just escaped. You’re not exactly sure what you just escaped from, though. You suddenly wonder if, instead of going hunting, you should just leave entirely. The thought pains you; you’ve gotten so close to many of the others. This gang is the closest thing you’ve ever known to a proper family. However, it might not be possible to stay with Arthur around. He’s such a vital part to the gang. You shake your head, trying to rid these thoughts, and decide that for now you’ll just go hunting near this Roanoke Ridge. You’ll worry about potentially abandoning the camp later when you return.
When Lenny comes to relieve you in the morning, to say you’re exhausted is an understatement. You’ve had hardly any sleep in the last 2 days. You think about delaying your hunting trip for a few hours and sleeping, but you know Grimshaw won’t let that happen. She’s already up and looking like she’s about to go rage at Karen and Tilly. You tiredly roll up your bedroll, but decide to leave your tent here. You’ve spent plenty of nights open to the stars; even been rained on a few times. Besides, you’ll only be gone a couple of days. Long enough to clear your head hopefully.
You strap your things to Rain’s saddle, and then turn back to the camp. You see Hosea sitting up in his bedroll, preparing to start his day. You approach him.
“Hosea, how are you?”
“Very good, Y/N,” he says, standing up. “How are things between you and Arthur?”
Jesus, does everyone know that you two fought? You sigh heavily.
“Not the best. Look, I’m gonna head out for a few days, do some huntin’. You mind if I take one of Jack’s books?”
He stares at you sadly, then nods. “I understand, Y/N. I’ll tell Dutch you’re out followin’ a lead.”
“Thank you,” you say as he hands you another Otis Miller book. You turn away and mount Rain, staring back at the camp one last time before trotting down the trail and into the open air.
You head into Valentine to pick up a few things. You go into the store and buy some cans of food, coffee, and a small map. You study it briefly, figuring out which trails to follow to get to Roanoke Ridge. You approach the clerk.
“Excuse me, but can you read what that says?” you point to the north eastern corner of New Hanover. He glances at it.
“Sure, says Roanoke Ridge. You got family up near Annesburg or somethin’?”
“Or something,” you say, putting the map into your satchel.
“Apologies, miss. Didn’t mean to pry.”
You thank him and leave the store. You head over to the hotel and give the desk clerk a dollar for a room, figuring you need to get some rest before heading on your way.
By late afternoon, you’re as rested as you’re going to get. You quickly brush Rain and feed her a few cubes of hay and some apples. You pat her affectionately, she muzzles her nose into your hand. You mount her and canter out of town; someone yells behind you to slow down. You ignore them, following the muddy road away from Valentine.
You travel up through the Cumberland Forest and into the Grizzlies East in Ambarino. Late into the night, you stop by a lake that the map says is O’Creagh’s Run, although you struggle to read the words. A single cabin sits on the north eastern side of the lake. You make camp on the other side of it. You quickly make a fire and roast a rabbit you had caught not too long ago, staring at the cabin on the opposite shore from you. Smoke spirals from the chimney stack of the cabin; a candle’s light illuminates the window in the front. A single, large white horse stands in a stall beside the cabin. You wonder who lives there and what they do. Not that you’re going to go introduce yourself by any means.
You eat quickly and then settle down in your bedroll, staring at the stars above, letting them wink you to sleep.
Rain drops splash on your face in the morning. It isn’t raining hard, but it’s enough to wake you. You roll up your things and then kick dirt over the fire, which is just a pile of hot, sizzling coals at this point. You make sure the few pelts you gathered on your way here yesterday are still situated before mounting Rain and kicking her into a gallop around the lake.
You’ve never been to country like this before. The mountains are grey and green, arching into tall mounds above your head. Among the thick trees and tall grasses, wild flowers of every color bloom. Eventually the trees thin into open grasslands, but the mountains rise higher. At least the sky is clear now and the rain has stopped, giving way to warm sunshine.
By midday, you’re back into a thick forest, but it isn’t like the ones you left behind in West Elizabeth or by Valentine. It isn’t made of the elegant pine trees you’re familiar with, but tall oaks. The mountains you ride upon are no longer smooth, but broken up and craggly. There are so many cliffs and ledges you have to slow Rain down into an easy canter for fear of falling.
You reach Roanoke Valley and see the roaring river in the bottom of a steep ravine. You stop Rain and pull out your map, examining it. You struggle to properly read a location called the Elysian Pool close to a place named Butcher’s Creek. You find the easiest trails to follow to get there and send Rain on her way again.
After nearly an hour of travelling, the trail points down towards the Kamassa River, which you know means you’re close to the Elysian Pool. The trail turns south along the river. Something feels wrong, like you’re being watched. You look all around you, but the trees are so thick and dense it’s impossible to make anything out. The birds above you continue to sing, so there can’t be a predator like a cougar around. You pull Rain to a walk, checking the forest.
A doe bolts from a bush close to you, spooking both you and your horse as she darts up the steep hill. You sigh heavily, figuring that’s what had made you nervous. You kick Rain, sending her after the doe to try and hunt it. She bounds up the hill, dodging through the trees.
Just as you peak over the hill, you hear yelling and hollering. Then gunshots, and Rain squeals loudly. You’ve never heard her make that sound before, but you know instantly it’s bad. She starts turning in circles, your upper body swings over her neck and that’s when you see the blood streaming from her chest.
“NO!” you scream as another gunshot rings out, slamming into her neck. Her legs begin to buckle beneath her, tossing you onto the hard ground. You launch to your feet, pulling out your sawed-off shotgun and pointing it. Around you are four men, dirty and wild. Most of them are barely dressed, wearing nothing but pants or overalls. They point their own rifles at you, laughing maniacally through mouths missing multiple teeth.
“Well, lookee here, boys!” one of them hollers. “We got us a live ‘un! I think we’ll like ‘er just fine!”
“Let’s take ‘er back, let her stew a few days,” another one says.
The man closest to Rain approaches your dying horse. She’s still snorting, although she’s getting quieter. Blood seeps into the ground beneath her, her breathing looks labored.
“Get away from her!” you scream, pointing your gun to him. You hear one of the others run up behind you, but you’re not quick enough. He slams the butt of his gun into the back of your head, knocking you to the ground. You have just enough time to see the man near Rain place the barrel of his gun against her head and pull the trigger before the world around you turns black.
#rdr2#red dead redemption 2#rdr2 fanfic#red dead fanfic#arthur morgan#arthur morgan x reader#arthur morgan x female reader#arthur morgan x oc#Van Der Linde Gang#horseshoe overlook#rockstar games#r*#i'm awkward#second chances
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A picture of Neeko for your attention? :3
Hello everyone! I wanted to do some important updates here so I'll type it down in with titles so whichever you might be interested in, You'll see :)
1. For my commissioners:
Hi everyone, YES i am still workin and sketching them as much as I can but work has been quite busy lately! I hope you all understand and thank you so much for being so so patient! I'll be continuing work this weekend. For this week, I haven't done any progress since it's a busy work week :) I'll be messaging and replying to everyone ONCE i'm good with my day job. Expect this weekend most likely. For those who want to commission me, i'm so sorry but I won't be opening my commissions for a while EXCEPT when there's an emergency. I'll be posting if I do open commissions again but for now, it's closed till further notice. For the ones who inquired and I have answered a yes, consider your commission to be noted :) I'm so sorry though if i'm not replying just yet -- I have so much to finish before I can compose myself.
2. For my online orders:
To those who ordered May 1- june 12 I have gotten the new batch! huzzah! I will be shipping them on the weekend :) Anyone who have placed an order past 12,consider yours to be included on the next shipment next month!
3. For people who wants to buy my Merch (ESPECIALLY THE MIRACULOUS LADY BUG FLOWERS -- wow you guys)
The question of my MLB merch -- I will be posting it on my Storenvy --- But i'm also fixing my shop. There is gonna be a big chance that I can lower the shipping fee -- and a lot of other stuff. I want my items to be affordable for all you guys so I'm working on my new shop (apart from storenvy) and yes there will be new merch too. Fans of Boku No Hero, Persona 5 (HELL YES OMG) and ofc, My league people will be in for a treat :3 i'm updating my merch list for it to have more varied items <3 Hopefully -- Y'all will liek it. I'll be posting a catalog for my online store as well as links to it WHEN i finally have it finished. It's one of my major priorities this month.
4. Any of you wondering about my conventions
Well as you, my sweet Filipino Mutuals may have recently heard, APCC is cancelled. It was my supposed Con that i'm working my back and neck to prepare for. That being said, I now have more free time (lol expect zoyn comics on the weekend hue) and I can now work on other stuff. That being said, for the rest of the year -- here's my Target cons, some I have already gotten a slot for:- Cosmania, ESGS, Komiket 2019 - and if I'm really lucky.. I may see you guys at AFA in Singapore this November!
5. The Misadventures of Zoe and Kayn
Im gonna be completely honest i HAVE NOT worked on anything for this chapter and i am so so so sorry. Frankly in the midst of APCC, my aun't wedding and work as well as commissions, I've been so burtn out? I didnt have time. Simply put. But now that my schedule's gonna get a. bit more cleared up cos of APCC's cancellation, I'm planning on just finishing my commissions and I'll Stop everything and focus on the new chapter. It's gonna be exciting, I swear guys.
Also i have some mini stories of other champions I've drafted through out this period -- maybe i'll go ahead and continue that too. Who knows.
that be all the updates I can give guys. thank you for being patient with me!
- Fi
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Training Day, Part II || Brett, Cam, & Guildias
Brett: It would be several hours before Brett felt composed enough to talk to his domitor, and well into the afternoon when he finally reached out.
He already knew this wasn't going to go his way but maybe, just maybe...
{Text to Guildias} Hi, I hope I'm not interrupting anything
{Text} I met your friend
Guildias: The phone would ring just moments later.
Brett: So much for seeking solace in a text conversation.
"Hey," Brett greeted. His voice sounded tired.
Guildias: "So, tell me what's bothering you."
Brett: He took a deep breath. "The same thing that's bothered me since that...thing happened in December."
Guildias: "You have a handful of complaints, Brett. Does Cameron intimidate you?"
Brett: “Yes.” He’d long since learned that Guildias frowned upon indirect answers to direct questions. Best to just get it all out there.
Guildias: "Explain why."
Brett: “To train me he’d have to touch me.”
Guildias: "After everything I've done to secure you your human, do you trust me, Brett?"
Brett: “I trust you.” The emphasis was soft but it was there. He didn’t doubt that Cameron had Guildias’ glowing commendations. His mistrust was in the hands themselves, and their foreignness.
Guildias: Noted. "Then tell me something else. Would you rather my presence for the first training session? The first can be hands free. The two of you can trade performance on your skills."
Brett: As long as they were being honest, “I’d rather you be there for all of it.” And that it would all be hands free.
Guildias: "One week." Argumentative until the very end, the sheriff was. Nothing as on par with Devon Moss, but more troublesome for a fledgling.
Brett: It was more than he expected. At least it was something. “Thank you, sir.”
Guildias: "When are the two of you going to train?"
Brett: “Whenever you decide.”
Guildias: "Did you exchange numbers?"
Brett: “No, sir.”
Guildias: You're trying my patience. "I will send it to you. Tonight at my place. Let him know. Understood?"
Brett: Brett knew; he could feel it in every single one of his bones.
“Yes, sir. Understood.”
Guildias: Good boy. "I'll see you in three hours. Be good."
Brett: "Yes, sir, I will."
Once Guildias had sent him Cameron's number, Brett shot off a text. Here he could keep that small solace of nonverbal communication.
{Text to Cameron} It's Brett Parker
{Text to Cameron} Spoke to Guildias, he wants us to meet at his house in three hours
Cam: Cam glanced down at this phone, and a grin flashed over his lips as he saw them.
{Text to Brett} See you then grumpy gills! ;P
---
Goofy texts aside, Cam knocked on Guildias' door three hours later. He wore a black hoodie and work-out pants, a tight, dark green v-neck and matching sneakers. He had a small duffle bag over his shoulder and he had a pleased grin on his face. He was ready to sweat.
Guildias: Guildias had no intention of participating, so the vampire opened the door still half-asleep in cargo black belt and a ponytail. The cool, thick breeze was welcomed.
"What's that smile? Hmm?"
Cam: "It's been a while since I've had the chance to do some teaching! I love sparring with new people and getting them to a point where they can keep up with me! I'm excited," Cam grinned.
Cam: "Is Mr. Grumpy himself here yet?"
Guildias: "Mr. Grumpy?" He shook his head. "Keep in mind, despite being young, he is a sheriff. He's anxious of touch. Tonight will be about exploring what each of you can do on your own. Tomorrow, make each touch count. Easy enough, yes?"
Cam: "Oh I know- but what he's trained to do through his job is different from what I do," he tilted his head as Guildias explained more. "Okay," He nodded, having enough sense not to ask why Brett was so averse to touch.
"What should I avoid doing? I triggered....something in him when using my powers when we last met. I can try to avoid certain things?"
Guildias: "He needs things explained to him. This is not a man you want to surprise. He's attached to a human the prince had her way with, so as much as you might enjoy it, you're not to flirt with him."
Cam: "Understood," Cam nodded. There was a look of understanding in his eyes, a seriousness that replaced the usual flirtatious glint. "So... Did you arrange this to try and help him?"
Guildias: "That I did. We're going to gradually include touch. I'll be supervising for the first week. We'll see from there. A gentle touch is required, but I'm not going to coddle either of you."
Cam: He nodded again.
"Sounds like it could be fun. If Mr. Grumpy lets it." He grinned again and glanced back behind him. "Is he on his way or...?"
Guildias: "He's usually on time. He'll do a lap for every exceeded minute. If you're hungry, see to Devon up the hill."
Brett: Brett was pulling up to the house even as Guildias spoke. He'd done laps for being late before but he didn't fancy poking the bear on this particular day. He was already on eggshells.
Cam: "See ya up there then!" Cam gave Guildias a little wave and jogged up the hill towards Devon's house. He hadn't eaten yet, and a little energy boost before they started might be nice. Plus it would give Guildias and Brett a moment alone before starting.
Guildias/Devon: Guildias waited for Brett on the porch, arms crossed, eyes still heavy from lack of sleep.
Devon Moss, a tall man with salt and pepper hair and a pronounced limp, was too busy watching football to care about asking questions. Another of Guildias' ghouls. He was waved to the kitchen across from the living room. "Go to the kitchen," he was told. "Make yourself a pulled pork sandwich. It's spicy. Get over it. Don't use all my mayo."
Brett: God, he looked pissed already. Or maybe it was just Brett’s own anxiety and dread projecting themselves onto his environment.
Nothing new there, he thought, getting out of his car. “Evening, sir,” he greeted.
Cam: Cam did as instructed and made himself a sandwich. Then, while munching on his sandwich, he made a second one and returned to the living room. He offered it to Devon without saying a word, and by his logic, if Devon didn't want a sandwich-he would just eat two. It was pretty delicious.
Guildias/Devon: "What time is it, Brett?" asked calmly.
The sandwich was taken. It was his food, after all.
"What cha'll doin' over there t'night, anyway?"
Brett: “Two minutes later than it should be, sir.”
Guildias: "I needn't tell you what to do."
Brett: “No, sir.”
And off he went to do his penance laps. What he wouldn’t give for this to be one of those days Guildias made him run until he passed out. Two laps weren’t enough to soothe everything that was happening in his gut and chest and head.
Cam: "Workin' out," Cam replied as he perched on the nearest arm rest and aimlessly watched the screen. He knew nothing about sports, but it was something to do. Devon never seemed to be much for conversation the couple times they'd met.
"Gonna test out some new powers and help one of the other guys step up his game- if it works out that way."
Guildias/Devon: A few yards in, and his domitor fell into step at his side. Penance which would be shared, if only for tonight. Their bond would be adhered to for the next few hours.
"Hmm. The sheriff, is it?" He took a swig of his lukewarm beer and glanced his way. "He's a good kid, no matter what his daddy tried t'do with him."
Brett: It was small and it was simple but it was a comfort. Something to cling to in this soup of apprehension. Brett was grateful for it.
Cam: "His dad?" Cam asked, mouth half full of sandwich, before he could stop himself.
Devon: "Catholic. Need I say more?" Finally, Cameron was given a proper once-over. "Make him one, too. From one ghoul t'the next."
Cam: "Ah," Cam nodded, finishing off his own sandwich with a happy hum. He nodded to the advice and left the couch to return back to the kitchen.
After making a sandwich for Brett, Cam decided to venture back outside and find the other two.
Guildias: At the bottom of the hill laid his domitor. A dead body to a passerby, with his still chest and cool skin. His clothes were too fresh and without wound, and his scent was more Calvin Klein cologne than decomp.
"Devon watching football again?"
Cam: Cam bounced down the hill and took a seat in the grass next to Guildias.
"Yeah. Pretty sure he was doing that the last time I met him," he giggled and placed the plate, and sandwich, on Guildias' chest. "Where is Brett? I made him a sandwich."
Brett: Brett was several yards away, just inside the tree line. The two laps had done precious little to relax him so he'd started doing squats with his usual tree trunk.
If he had to be here under these circumstances, might as well work out and get something positive out of it.
Guildias: That way, he pointed. "You two discuss what you'll be doing. Think of me more as a supervisor than coach. Remember what I told you."
Cam: "Yes sir!" Cam nodded, maybe a little too chipper for such a warning. For as bouncy and bounding with energy as he seemed, Cam did take Guildias' instructions and warnings seriously.
Cam scooped the sandwich back up as he rose to leave Guildias' side and approach Brett and his squats.
"Hey," Cam smiled as he neared the other ghoul, and he offered the sandwich he made to Brett while also keeping some distance. A peace offering, if he wanted to see it that way.
Brett: And that was curtains on his last few moments of solitude for the next couple of hours.
Brett nodded to Cameron, acknowledging him and his offering--was that a sandwich?--while he finished his set.
Only after it had been finished and a long drink had been taken from his water bottle did he speak. "Evening. What's this?" he asked, cautiously taking the plate.
Cam: "A sandwich!" Cam grinned, having waited patiently for Brett to finish. "It's Devon's stuff and I made us both one, so we figured I could bring one for you too," really it was all Devon, but Cam was pretty sure Devon wouldn't mind Cam taking a little credit. He made the sandwich at least.
Brett: "Thank you." It had been a long while since he'd eaten pork, but it smelled too good to waste.
Guildias: Guildias sat up on his elbows to watch, keeping his distance so as not to disturb. And distraction could send the sheriff anywhere, from his perspective.
Cam: "You're welcome," he tilted his head to watch Brett before looking away and off into the nearby forest. He wasn't sure if Brett would be bothered by someone watching him eat. Then with a huff he flopped back onto the grass and tucked his hands behind his head.
"So- whatcha want to do today?" He asked, staring up into the leaves above. "I have a few drills we could do- no contact stuff that's good for accuracy, as well as control?" He suggested.
Brett: Brett didn't care if Cameron watched him or not; strangers had watched him eat and work and do other things for years. Often scowling or glaring at him.
Perhaps subconsciously, he spoke to Cameron the same way he spoke to them; succinctly and with no eye contact. "Guildias told me to demonstrate my abilities."
Cam: Ah yes, Mr. Grumpy. Cam was confident he could find a way to loosen Brett up a bit.
"Okay- wanna show me what you've got? Otherwise I can show you the stuff I've been learning first?"
Brett: "Do you have a pocket knife?"
Cam: "Nah, but I could make one?" He offered and glanced at Brett. "It'd mean using my powers though- if it wouldn't bother ya."
Brett: It would bother him a lot but he didn't have any choice. Even if he had been able to tune out Cameron's gaze, there was no tuning out Guildias'. He could feel it on him right now.
"Might as well."
Cam: Cam placed his hand on the ground, and with a small flash that emanated from his hand, the ground shifted beneath it. A few seconds later the dirt rose up, sliding like a snake into Cam's palm, and hardened into the shake of a pocket knife. Another few seconds and the color faded from brown to a shiny metal with a dark green handle.
"Here ya go," he handed Brett the knife, "just pull it open with the notch there."
Brett: Unlike their exchange a few hours ago, this time Brett had time to at least try to brace himself for what was coming. Not enough, however.
He still flinched violently when the soil began to rise and move, when it began to take what his mind considered an unnatural form. A year ago this probably would've fascinated him; not so now.
Now he just felt deeply unsettled by the process that had produced the blade Cameron offered to him. If he was honest with himself, a very large part of him didn't even want to touch it.
"Right," he said, throat gone dry as a slightly trembling hand took the pocket knife.
Cam: Cam didn't understand what was wrong, but it was pretty obvious by Brett's expression that something was off. Before he finally handed it over he pulled his hand back slightly to offer Brett a secondary option.
"I can, like- go grab a knife from inside if you want instead?"
Brett: "It's fine." Whether he used this knife or one from Guildias' kitchen, the result and the unpleasantness would be the same. Better to just get it over with as quickly as possible.
He set the now empty plate aside and, after a deep breath, sliced his palm open.
Cam: Cam tensed for a second, startled by the sudden move, and just as quickly as a protest rose in his throat he swallowed it down. Brett was a ghoul too, he should be able to heal himself, right?
Brett: This particular demonstration was more for his own benefit than Cameron's. And maybe even Guildias' a little bit.
Months ago, feeling and seeing and smelling the blood on his skin would've thrown him into a panic, and although he wasn't quite calm now, he was miles ahead of where he was. There was only a momentary pause and uptick in breathing before Brett closed his eyes and concentrated on stopping the bleeding and healing his hand completely.
Cam: "Nice," Cam nodded, unaware of what the gesture meant, not in its entirety.
Brett: With the simpler task out of the way, Brett turned his attention to something far more difficult. Cameron had already witnessed it of course, so really this was for Guildias to see that he’d been diligent in his practice.
Eyes still closed, Brett breathed in again, then a third and a fourth time, willing himself to relax and focus. This wasn't like this morning; this had to be a bit more deliberate.
He opened his eyes. He looked toward Guildias for a moment, then back at Cameron before nodding in Guildias' direction. His subtle, silent way of saying 'look over there'.
If Cameron were to turn to Guildias then back at Brett, he'd see nothing but the trees.
Cam: Cam followed Brett's gaze, and when he looked back he blinked in surprise when he saw no one there. He glanced around- half expecting to see Brett standing further away. When he saw no one he glanced back at Guildias, his head tilting.
Guildias: Having seen the same posture and breathing just days before, he knew what to expect. His attention had purposely shifted to Cameron. He could swear he'd seen the very instance of his disappearance from his peripheral. To think someone as lowly as Rosmond would have the upper hand here. His perception had made him a thing of beauty to Victoria.
"Very good, Brett. Hold your concentration and try to take a step backwards."
Brett: Now this was new territory. Brett hadn't been able to remain concealed while moving his hand, much less his whole body. His brain hadn't quite figured out how to do the two things at once.
Still, he kept breathing and tried to dig deep, to move as slowly as humanly possible.
He'd only managed to lift a foot a few centimeters before the illusion fell away.
Cam: Cam watched quietly, his head tilting the other direction.
Guildias: Cameron's bewilderment caused a half-smile. "Where you were inclined to celerity, our sheriff subconsciously adopted occultation. Your gifts are representative of your personalities."
Cam: "That's a pretty cool ability," Cam nodded, and he grinned up at Brett, eyes alight with excitement. "I didn't realize that was a ghoul ability- that's awesome!" He sat upright now, suddenly excited to show off his abilities. Guildias had yet to see the newest addition, but he wanted to wait his turn.
"Anything else that you've picked up?" He asked Brett. There was a hint of admiration in his voice.
Brett: Brett did not share Cam's excitement or enthusiasm. He just nodded again. "I'm a drunk whisperer," he said, matter-of-factly and with a completely straight face.
Guildias: "He's being overly modest," he called.
Cam: Cam laughed at that, and he jumped up to his feet with an itch to take his own turn. He bounced lightly on the balls of his feet and wiggled, as if trying to shake out an energy buzzing at his fingertips.
"I mean, that is a skill that can be really handy. I can’t say I’m very good at it. I bet it’s even more useful with your occupation," he concluded, finally settling before he asked, "want to see what I've been working on?" Again- the excitement in his eyes as nearly tangible, as if he were trying to radiate it onto those around him.
Brett: God, how did this man have so much energy? Brett couldn't have summoned this much energy on a random evening if he drank his weight in coffee and Red Bull.
"Correct," he said with a nod. "Makes certain arrests go smoothly." As smoothly as wrangling large drunken idiots into his patrol car could go, anyway.
Did he want to see? Absolutely not. Was he going to?
Another nod. "Have at it."
Cam: Honing his skills was one of the few ways Cam felt his trademark, playful energy anymore. For a while, during and after his 5 month disappearance, Cam thought he'd lost the spark that seemed to define him. Ever so slowly, he was getting it back.
"Is there a tree you want removed anywhere?" He asked and turned to Guildias, a gleam of excitement in his eyes.
Guildias: Guildias rested his arms in his knees, comfortable with his distance to better observe. In no way did he expect the sheriff to match the energy of his newest ghoul, but less tension in his shoulders was much desired.
A moment of searching, two trees much too close as neighbors.
"One of those."
Cam: Cam tilted his head, debating which of the two to remove.
"Mkay, I'm gonna disappear, just to warn you. And what's next will be loud," Cam offered to Brett as a warning, so he could brace himself. Cam knew this all made Brett anxious, so he wanted to help Brett avoid what discomfort he could.
Then in a blur, one moment Cam was standing beside him, and the next he was beside the chosen tree. He stumbled a little as he slowed, but he quickly straightened into a wide stance meant to steady himself. Then he inhaled slowly, and on the exhale he thrust his hand forward, in a similar blur to how he had moved, and a loud crack of splintering wood echoed through the clearing. With a groan the tree shuddered and began to fall, but Cam reached out and grabbed it to ease it carefully, albeit awkwardly to the ground. It looked absurd, but he did his best to try and make it a little less stressful for Brett.
Brett: Despite Brett's extreme aversion to being here at the moment, Cam's thoughtfulness was....appreciated.
He nodded his thanks, even trying for a small smile as he braced himself for the great unknown he was about to witness.
Of course, no matter how much he braced himself he still managed to startle a bit as Cameron disappeared and reappeared at the speed of light, and again when the tree split--the tree was splitting.
The tree was splitting and oh hell, the tree was falling and about to squish them all like--oh. Oh. It was fine. Cameron was lowering it to the ground carefully and safely.
Guildias: "Very good," Guildias called. "You should both focus on finesse. Signs of strain only feeds your enemies."
Cam: "Listen," Cam replied in a matter-of-fact-tone as the tree came to rest on the ground with a soft thud, "I'm workin' on it! You know how hard I've been working on moving at that speed without falling over! And the tree thing was a long shot- i didn't think it would work! I knew I'd put a dent in it at least but it went way better than expected."
He grinned proudly as he jogged back over to the two at a normal speed. He stopped between the two and the grin continued, clearly pleased with even the small praise Guildias has given.
Guildias: "You must learn to walk before you run. When you can end a run without stumbling about, then increase your speed. Speed is useless without accuracy."
Brett was looked over as well. "I'm not asking for leaps, just steps towards perfection."
Brett: Brett’s reaction was far more tempered than Cam’s. A true testament to the difference between Guildias’ two ghouls.
“Yes, sir,” he said with a single nod.
Cam: "Yes sir!" Cam replied, still grinning as he gave Guildias a playful salute.
Guildias: He smiled to them both. He appreciated their differences. Both men required discipline, but Rome was not built in a day.
"What do you believe you need to improve?" He pointed to the sheriff.
Brett: “Greater dedication, more practice.” Less fear and apprehension.
Cam: Cam nodded but remained silent. He knew that's what they were here for, and he knew he wanted to help, if Brett would let him. He was excited for them both to learn and improve.
Guildias: "I don't want you to be afraid of Cameron. He is your ally."
Brett: “I’m not afraid of Cameron.” Just what he can do.
Cam: Cam's eyebrow rose skeptically at that, and his head tilted to emphasize it. "You don't act like it. You're really... guarded. I'm not gonna hurt you, ya know? I wanna be a friend." He paused, a look of mild disapproval on his face. "Also- just call me Cam- I feel like I'm being scolded somehow!"
Brett: “Well I just met you. People aren’t completely comfortable with each other after meeting a couple of times.”
But he could concede to one point at least. “Cam then.”
Guildias: He looked between them. His request would be ignored by his master. Only Devon was so familiar with him as to exchange nicknames.
"I want the two of you to practice each night for a week. I'll have a surprise for you both by Sunday."
Cam: "Well that's true, but being completely comfortable, and just.... comfortable.... Ya just look constantly uncomfortable around me, is all I'm saying. Like I'm about to turn around and try and hurt you at any second," He shrugged, "Im not gonna. I promise."
He looked at Guildias. "By ourselves, or with each other?"
Guildias: "Each other. Here."
Brett: Cam had hit the nail on the head; Brett was uncomfortable around him. That promise was all well and good, but Brett was still a long ways from trusting him, if he would ever be able to at all.
He simply nodded and gave his attention to Guildias, feeling fresh dread pool in his stomach.
Brett gave another nod. “Yes, sir. I’ll be here.”
Guildias: He would see to Brett's progress by the end of the week. For now, "Run two miles to the end of the road and back, and then go home. Both of you."
Cam: Cam nodded and motioned for Brett to follow with a tilt of his head as he started down the road in an easy jog.
Brett: Only Guildias would notice how Brett’s shoulders slowly relaxed at the order. Thank the Good Lord for running. Running was neutral. Running was an equalizer.
“Yes, sir. Goodnight if I don’t see you when we get back.”
And off he went, following Cam but keeping his distance. At least until he warmed up and sped his gait.
Cam: Cam kept at a steady pace ahead of Brett as he tried to give the other man some space. After he warmed up and his legs felt a little less stiff he slowed down slightly to try and meet the other partway.
"You always address him so formally," Cam said idly once Brett was within earshot.
Brett: "Not formal. Respectful." Even if they weren't in the south, Guildias was still his domitor. That position demanded respect.
Cam: "Mmmm," Cam hummed thoughtfully. "I guess... I guess I don't understand much about who Guildias is. He's never told me to treat him differently."
Brett: "You have a different relationship with him than I do."
Cam: "How'd you come to start drinking vampire blood?"
Brett: Brett cast a sideways glance at Cam. He didn't really expect him to answer that, did he?
Cam: He didn't, but it was a shot in the dark that gave him the opportunity to talk about himself. If Brett didn't want to open up, he could.
"Guildias saved me. I was invited to a party, a formal thing and I had nothing really happening at the time. It wasn't from anyone I recognized, so i thought I got invited by mistake and figured it'd be fun to crash. I look real good in a green suit," he gave Brett a smirk and glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "Turns out- it was a feast fest for vampires. And if I wasn't given the invite by mistake, it would have been a 'be my slave or die' type situation. He found me and had me drink his blood.... I could have probably tried to escape but.... I'm grateful."
Brett: The smirk was neither acknowledged nor returned, but Brett was listening.
A feast fest for vampires sounded like his version of hell. He could only imagine what had befallen those that fell that night, what would have befallen Cameron if Guildias hadn't stepped in. He wondered if Cam could imagine it.
"He's a decent man," he said softly. Despite everything, Brett believed that. He had plenty to be grateful for himself because of Guildias.
Cam: "I remember the screams that started...." Cam said quietly, his expression sobering as he remembered the tension that rose the smaller his gap to escape became. "He is decent. He gave me the opportunity to stop after that. Didn't expect me to keep being his ghoul, but here I am." He sped up a little. He glanced at Brett. "I’ve got a lot of people I want to protect."
Brett: So Cameron had chosen this. Of all the ways he could've protected those who mattered to him, he chose this.
Brett couldn't decide if it was brave or if free will was wasted on the man running beside him.
"As do we all."
Cam: Cam had made the choice to continue out of a place of desperation, but he left that part out. He was open, but not that open. "Who do you protect?"
Brett: "This town." And Botan most of all.
Cam: "That's a lot to protect," but he could understand. "Puts a lot of weight and responsibility on a person."
Brett: "I'm a cop. It's what I do."
Cam: "I'm a vigilante, I guess I could say the same," he grinned, a hint of teasing in his voice, "I just don't operate inside the law."
Brett: "That's the absolute last thing you should ever say to a cop. If you're calling yourself a vigilante, you're operating outside the rule of law."
Cam: "That is pretty much what I just said," Cam laughed, "I thought I mentioned that already?" He shrugged. "Guess you're just gonna have to get stronger if you wanna make me pay for my crimes," he continued to tease.
Brett: "I have enough on my plate keeping this place in order. I'll leave your warrants to their issuing officers."
Cam: "You're too kind," he laughed again, "I promise I'm not a bad guy. I typically take on dudes cops with guns can't really handle."
Brett: No vigilante ever thought they were the bad guy. Brett was inclined to actually believe it in this case, but the professional part of him still frowned upon Cam's chosen career path.
"I see." What else could he say?
Cam: "You really are not talkative," Cam chuckled and fell silent, choosing to focus on the run instead. He increased his speed slightly to pull a little ahead.
Brett: "Don't take it personally," said Brett, somewhat apologetically. "Never been a talker." Even in the best of times. Still, he was perfectly happy to run in silence.
Cam: "Well I might get ya to open up eventually, I'll hold out hope," Cam smiled, but didn't say anything more. They made their turn to head back to Guildias' home, and while he didn't say anything, he tried to cat Brett's eyes and make a few hopeful gestures like he wanted to race Brett back.
Brett: Brett said nothing. He knew himself well enough to know that Cam's hope wouldn't lead to much, but if it helped smooth the way for them then that was fine.
Curiously enough, he had been waiting for Cam to ask for a race from the moment their run started. So when Cam finally started giving him signals, Brett didn't say a single word. He just took off.
Cam: "Hey!" Cam shouted as Brett took off, but he wasn't far behind. Once he caught up he pressed forward, pushing Brett to meet him, unless he was about to let Cam win.
Brett: At last, a smile. Small, but still a smile. This was something he was comfortable with and could actually enjoy. He'd even try to win, but not terribly hard. It couldn't hurt to let Cam see that he wasn't completely made of stone and stoicism.
Cam: The smile brought a bright one of Cam's own. He didn't use his powers this time and simply let his legs do the carrying without any supernatural advantage. Plus he needed more control, as Guildias had instructed. As they neared the starting point of their race, and pushed himself through the final stretch, focusing on the goal rather than whether or not he was beating Brett. Once they passed the starting point, Cam skidded to a halt and turned to face Brett with a grin.
"I think we tied?" he asked breathlessly, with honestly no clue as to who finished first.
Brett: Brett nodded and caught his breath. "Tie. Good enough for me." He wanted a shower, a giant bottle of water, and a movie on the couch with his boyfriend. Today day been quite a day.
"Guess I'll see you tomorrow."
Cam: "See you tomorrow," Cam nodded, and with a small wave he took back off down the road at top speed. He had nothing better to do, so expending more of his energy through a thorough work out was just what he needed tonight.
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Avenue Of Sins (part three)
summary: a story of two misfit kids from mid-west america making it big in the big apple. and in the true sense of the american dream they find themselves in a life of sex, money, drugs, and a little rock n roll too.
warnings: adult content, mature readers only.
if you’re seeing this for the first time you can read part one here and if you need to catch up on previous chapters go here.
In the dark and damp alleyway behind Trigger Finger XXX Bill and Alma were passing a cigarette back and forth while they watched a few of the security staff beat the hell out of a rude, handsy customer. Even Bundy stood by checking out the action and keeping watch. When Bill was made aware of the man's antics in the private room it only took the snap of his fingers to have him immediately dragged out like a literal sack of garbage. Poor chump never had a chance. With each kick to the man's gut, Alma would wince inching closer to Bill’s side. She didn’t feel bad for the guy in the slightest but when his nose started to run red it was almost as if she could feel it. Bill put his arm around her, rubbing her shoulder in comfort.
“Get Kansas for me, will you?” He whispered in her ear. “You don’t have to come back after if you don’t want to.”
She didn’t budge at his suggestion, instead, she looked up at him with a doubtful stare. Bill shook his head, huffing loudly as he reached for his Glock 45 to remove the clip full of hollow points from it.
“You think I would,” he asked passing it off to her.
“I only know that I would,” she said tucking the clip away in her leather jacket. “And the bullet in the chamber,” she held her palm out.
Bill rolled his eyes in resignation, pulling back the slide lock and handing over his last and only bullet before kissing the top of her head sending her off to retrieve Kansas inside. When Alma found her in the locker room, Cooch was gathering her red hair – that was previously french braided – into a ponytail to give her some air while she sobbed into her hands. Girls crying in the locker room was always a strange sight to see as it was juxtaposed with half-naked indifferent dancers in the foreground. From what Alma had gathered through the commotion, the client getting beaten wasn’t only being unnecessarily harsh but he was calling her all sorts of ugly names to get his rocks off which sent Kansas running out the private rooms and straight to Bill arms in his VIP booth.
“You gonna be alright Kansas?” Alma said leaning on the door frame.
Still unable to speak Cooch spoke for her. “Oh, she’s got the whole night to relax now. She’ll be back to workin’ ordah in no time!”
“Kansas… Marcy,” Alma said softly, finally gaining her attention, “Bill wants you out back.”
“Oh no… I don’t want to see that guy again,” she shook her head.
“It’s gonna be alright. Bill’s gotta handle on him, come,” she motioned.
Though apprehensive, Kansas held on to Alma’s hand as she followed her out to the back alley where Bill had joined in on the man’s beating, cheerfully being egged on by the other men.
Alma cleared her throat loudly, “Bill.”
Before he could connect a knockout blow to the man's face with his boot he righted himself, smoothing his hair back when he heard his name fall from her lips. And just like that with another snap of his fingers the security quickly peeled the man’s beaten body off the pavement. He couldn’t even stand well on his own having to resort to leaning on the men who had made him that way.
“Kansas, darling, come here,” Bill motioned. “You deserve an apology.”
She was reluctant for a moment until Alma lightly nudged her towards him. He took her face in his hand and with the pads of his thumbs wiped away the last of the lingering tears on her round cheeks. Turning around he grabbed the man by his short dark curly hair, jerking his head back, so that he was looking at Kansas through the blurry vision of his right eye since the other was swollen shut.
“Go on,” he prompted.
“I… I’m sorry,” the man choked from his bloody mouth.
“Huh? A little louder?” Bill said yanking the man’s hair harder.
“Ahh,” he winced. “I said I’m sorry! I’m sorry. Please! I’m sorry!”
“Get him the fuck outta here,” he barked at the security, thrusting the poor bastards head out of his grips. “You’ll be even sorrier if I see your ass here again,” he said spitting at him as he limped away leaving his dignity there in the alleyway. “You’re okay now,” he said softly, turning his attention back to Kansas. “I promised you and all the girls protection and I’m sorry that didn’t happen tonight,” he reached for his chain-linked wallet in his back pocket, taking out crisp hundred dollar bills from it. “Here. For a days work plus some. Rest up, we need you this weekend.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said appreciatively, hugging him like a child would a father.
…
The mood the rest of that evening at Trigger Finger felt off. Alma couldn’t point her finger on to why that was exactly but luckily it was too busy of a night for her to dwell on it. Bringing rowdy men who crossed boundaries with the girls to the back alleyway wasn’t a new occurrence, it happened maybe twice a month or so. Once it happened a total of six times which prompted Bill to up his security staff. At first, he didn’t want to pay for it but Alma was so upset by it all that he did so. Which he was glad for later when the flow of clients became frequent and steady and his goons presence kept everyone relatively in check.
“Hey! Echo!” She heard clear across the other end the bar while she popped beer caps off for an ordered bucket.
“Here, I got the rest,” Raven came swooping in, taking over. “It’s Ben,” she said harshly under her breath before Alma could tell her that she had a handle on her task.
Upon hearing who was calling her, Alma quickly made her way over effortlessly weaving between the busy bar back boys. Ben was a big baller in the club, someone worth their time to keep happy.
“Sorry,” she quickly apologized. “Does your table need more drinks already? I’ll bring over some more-”
“Everything’s all good,” he assured with a low chuckle. He was a handsome man had a clean look and wore sharp suits, someone you’d expect to see at a more high-class gentleman’s club. He worked on Wall Street which is maybe why he frequented Trigger Finger feeling he wouldn’t be recognized. However, he often brought his closest colleagues for drinks and a show, even picking up whole 500 plus dollar tabs. Alma could tell it wasn’t out of generosity but to show off, definitely. “Just wanted to give you a personal tip,” he said sliding two, hundred dollar bills across the bar top.
“This isn’t for...” she inquired, tapping her nose with her finger.
“No it’s for you,” he smirked. “I’m retiring early tonight.”
“Already?” She tucked the tip away in her black lace bra.
“Yeah… thought Kansas would be here? She’s a real hoot.”
“Aw yeah. She’s out sick...” she lied. “I’ll let her know she was missed though.”
“Perfect,” he smiled. “Will I see you next time?”
“Of course. Where else would I be?” She winked.
There was a short lull in customers since the girls had hustled with getting their drinks out quickly. Alma took the opportunity for a break and waved at the girls to follow her to the stock room. Praline and Queenie hopped atop an empty keg, sharing the little space to sit.
“Oh fuck me, I need a pick me up,” Raven sighed leaning against a stack of boxed club soda bottles.
They all waited patiently yet eagerly as Alma presented a little pink baggy of coke for the girls to pass around, letting them take a bump before herself.
“Also,” she said reaching into her bra to show them the tip she was given. “Benny Boy tipped you girls pretty big tonight,” she said passing it along to Praline who kept track of tips to split amongst them. Alma never took tips, it just didn’t feel right to her when Praline and Raven were college students and Queenie had sickly parents to take care of. She was more stable financially, she didn’t have worries or responsibilities like they did, hell even Bill took care of rent and bills. Docking herself from tips wasn’t hurting her in the slightest.
After taking their respective share of coke, Raven and Queenie headed out first to check on things at the bar while Praline lingered waiting as Alma snorted her share.
“I heard Ben ask about Kansas...”
“Yeah,” she said wiping her nose clean.
“Yeah...” she said shifting her eyes as if something was bothering her.
“Something wrong,” Alma asked finding her demeanor off-putting.
“You know the guy you all took out back?”
“Mhmm,” she nodded.
“Well… he’s a cousin of the Russo’s.”
Alma’s jaw dropped at the same time her stomach did. “The Russo’s? You sure?”
“I’m sure,” Praline nodded. “Look, you shouldn’t be alarmed-”
“What do you mean, shouldn’t be alarmed? The Russo Brother’s and Bill have a deal to not cross paths, what the fuck was he doing here Praline!? Why didn’t you say anything before he got his ass beat in our alleyway?”
“Shit, sorry! It’s cause the Russo Brother’s don’t like him either! He’s banned from their club, no wonder he came crawling to our turf.”
“H-how do you know this?”
“I’m not double-crossing you or Bill so don’t get me wrong, now,” she put her hands up defensively. “But a girl in my building that I’ve smoked with a few times dances at the Russo’s club. She had a thing with him, his name is Craig. I don’t have much to say other than he’s just a scumbag, I woulda said something if I saw him come in but-”
“Well fuck,” Alma said rubbing the back of her neck. “You know even if the Russo Brothers hate him too. He’s still family, Italians are hardcore about that…” she sighed thinking for a moment. “I have to tell Bill...”
“Th-that's why I told you. I’m too scared to tell him myself.”
“You know Bill isn’t mean like that,” Alma said quickly coming to his defense.
“I know... but sometimes I’m never sure with him.”
Alma couldn’t blame her for that. Bill was a daunting man, who wanted things his way and was someone who needed control. Things had been going smoothly lately and admittedly even Alma would keep things from him if it was something she could get done herself as to not bother him. But not knowing where the situation with Craig – the shithead Russo Cousin – could go, she had to tell him. It could be that it was no big deal but she didn’t want to risk something much bigger springing up and it being all her fault for not jumping on it.
…
Busting through the doors of the stock room, Alma cleared across the club advancing towards Bill who was sitting VIP behind the stage and just below the DJ booth. She had almost made it without being badgered by any customers until she passed by Ben’s once full table. He was alone now, reclaiming the broad-shouldered tweed suit jacket he accidentally left behind when he first initially left.
“You know what they say, ‘you can check out but you can’t ever leave’,” she joked with him in passing but he caught hold of her wrist, pulling her back.
“Glad I bumped into you again,” he said taking a tight grip on her hips. “I was wondering if you have any plans later?”
“Um, I do...” she bit her lip. She didn’t necessarily have plans but she needed to get things straight with Bill before she could think about taking him in the men's bathroom and fuck his brains out. But he was a charming devil, it had been a while since she found a man so enticing, it pained her to even pass him up.
“So. Next time then?”
“You know where to find me.”
“Of course, Echo,” he said patting her bum.
Bill had his arms slung over the booth ignoring Violet who was sensually whispering god knows what in his ear. He had a smug smirk on his face as Alma finally approached. Shooing Violet away, he put out a helping for Alma to slide in her space right next to him and by the amused look on his face, she knew he saw her little interaction with Ben.
“On to Ben I see,” he chuckled.
“More like the other way around,” she rolled her eyes.
“Well shit, I know I’d be on him, he’s a good-looking guy,” he said passing a beer to her.
“Anyway,” she said after taking a sip, disregarding his comment. “I’m not here to talk about Ben.” Quickly, she relayed everything that Praline had told her while he listened the best he could over the loud music. He sat there swirling his bourbon around in his glass in thought. He had a straight face on but Alma had caught the glimmer of worry in his eyes before he could kill it dead, maintaining his poker face. “So… what should we do?”
Bill tipped his drink back, gulping it down. “Nothing,” he shrugged.
“What? But he’s related-”
“To the fucking Russo’s, I heard. But what’s done is done. All we can do is wait, if something comes up then we’ll take it from there.”
Alma sighed, shaking her head, “I gotta get back to the bar.”
“Don’t!”
“Don’t what?!”
“You’ve been acting weird all week, you know that? I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it...”
“I already told you, I’m fine,” she said meeting his unconvinced, steely stare. “I’m fine,” she whined.
“Sure, then go help your bar girls, they look like they have too good of a handle on things over there,” he rolled his eyes, pulling a cigarette from his pack.
Despite initially wanting to avoid argument Alma reluctantly slid of the booth wanting to chuck a retort back at him for being dismissive but she bit her tongue. She stomped in her heels back to the bar knowing their little argument was far from over.
...
During after hours the both of them were saving face in front of Cooch and Theo. They had agreed a long time ago to keep personal squabbles between them private. Still, Cooch and Theo could feel the funk between them. Especially as they noticed Bill becoming increasingly annoyed with Alma’s stubborn silence as she counted money, unamused and irritated by everyone’s jokes and quips. They left fiercely wanting to leave the tense space of the loft in fear of being caught in their crosshairs. Bill and Alma left just as fast. The car ride home was painstakingly rigid. Alma had her eyes fixed out her window chainsmoking away during their awkwardly silent car ride. Still, Bill didn’t peep a word at her until they were inside their apartment where he slammed the door behind him.
“Okay, what’s the fucking deal, Alma?”
“Nothing? I’m tired,” she said detached and indignant to the anger behind his voice. Though instead of going to her room to ignore him further she fell on to the sofa, lighting another cigarette. She secretly wanted this argument. His carelessness was getting on her last nerve. She wanted a screaming match but when he sighed her name, softening his features she knew she was never going to get it. He was weak for her.
“I hate when you’re upset with me. Just, what do you want me to do? Please...” he pleaded.
She took a long drag of her cig, crossing her knees. “I just think you’re not taking the Russo cousin thing seriously, Bill. They’re big in the game and they can stomp this whole business out.”
“Christ,” he said running a hand through his hair. “We’re not some piddly fucking club anymore, you see the numbers?”
“That’s not the point I’m trying to make. I’m saying at the end of the day we’re just some country bumpkin kids to them. That club’s been in the Russo family since it was a speakeasy during prohibition and we just literally kicked the ass of Cousin Craig Russo on our turf.”
“Praline said he’s banned from their club? What if we were doing them a favor? Have you thought about that?”
“I don’t know, Bill. Maybe.”
“Does it always have to be doom and gloom with you? You’ve been that way since we were fucking kids!” Now, he was giving her the argument she wanted.
“Well then, FUCK IT?!” She yelled. It was a rarity when she yelled at him – at least not seriously. She was at her wits end after everything that had happened that day. “I wasn’t trying to underestimate our work or you? We have a good business but I don’t want your fucking head blown off in front of me when shit hits the fan over a dumbass!” She dropped her cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table as she got to her feet, and stomped to her room to be alone and away from him.
“No, wait! Shit,” he muttered going after her down the hallway. “I’m sorry. Okay, I get it.” He put either hand flat against the wall essentially trapping her between his arms.
“Do you Bill?” She looked up at him, feeling small with how he had her. “The numbers we’re making... we’re right behind their tail, we can’t cross them when we’re almost on top.”
“You’re right. What can I do? You know I can’t just show up to their club and say, ‘sorry for kicking your cousin's ass. All good right?’”
“Fine,” she sighed, rubbing at her tired eyes. “You’re right, okay. We’ll just see how it plays out then.”
Bill nodded. “What can I do to ease that head of yours,” he asked, his fingers now weaving through her black hair.
Alma thought for a moment. “I want my own security.”
He pulled back, his brows knitting together surprised by her request. “Well okay...,” he said placing his hand on his hips. “I’ll assign Paul to you.”
“I want Rashad and Frank. It won’t be as noticeable since their post is already by the bar.”
“You’ve thought about this?” With narrowed eyes, he cocked his head to the side. He felt hurt, thinking that he was all Alma needed for protection but to what she implied he apparently wasn’t enough. He set his feelings aside but not being able to shake the sting completely he looked for a chance to gain control on the situation. “Not Frank. I don’t like how he looks at you, it’s fucking creepy even by my standards. I’ll have Theo switch Frank’s area with Paul’s and have him inform them to just watch you well, no details. I don’t need anyone knowing shit.”
“Between me and you,” she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him.
...
That night they slept in their respective beds giving each other space they much needed. It was nothing personal. Living and working with the same person every day of the week late into the night could drive anyone crazy if they weren’t too careful.
At some point early in the morning, Alma was stirred by a shift in the mattress and her legs slowly being pulled apart. With bleary eyes, she looked down finding Bill between them kissing her panty clad pussy tenderly.
“Good morning,” he said softly, with a sweet smile.
“Mhmm,” she hummed, petting his soft brown hair.
He peppered light kisses on her thigh as he ran his hands to her bottom, pulling her panties down to her knees all while pushing her thighs back on her belly in one fell swoop and diving his head between her legs. Her body eased upon feeling his tongue lap her folds before hitting her sweet spot making her toss her head back. He always knew exactly what to do to make her feel good and this morning was no different. He had her coming on his tongue in no time, never letting up as she writhed and bucked her hips in his face. Just seeing his pretty face buried between her legs was in its self enough to get her off.
“Glad to see my heads not blown off,” he asked crawling on top of her now.
“For now,” she joked.
“I’m sorry about what I said last night.”
“I thought we were over that?”
“I just hate fighting with you. You’re on my side.”
“As long as you know that I am.”
She leaned up to peck his lips briefly but he held her face deepening into a passionate kiss. It was the type of kiss that made her heart pound against her chest reminding her of the girlhood feelings she had for him. They kissed each other breathless, butterflies fluttering in both their bellies. He leaned back enough to pull off his Slayer tee shirt while she kicked her panties off all the way in a haste. Their eyes were locked with one another when he plunged into her with ease. She wrapped her legs around him, wanting him closer as he thrust long and slow. It wasn’t the rough fucking they typically enjoyed. It was loving and wanting and caring. And to Alma that only meant another dry streak was about to begin as soon as they finished.
Her feelings for him had changed that was sure. She wanted him to herself but she feared it could never be that way. Most of all she feared messing everything up if she asked for his exclusivity. She had always thought about being his since they were teens but couldn’t even imagine it could be a possibility until he kissed her the last night they hung out in Missouri. When she saw him again, she thought the same until he made a move on her that throttled them from being friends to a borderline relationship. Both of those instances were completely initiated by him which drove her crazy with thinking that there must be something in him that wanted her that way too.
The bed frame was squeaking while he rolled his hips in hers at a faster pace knowing she was close. She audibly urged him to go deeper which prompted him to lean back, pushing a leg up to get her at that perfect angle for her to feel all of him. Her nails dug until the back of his flexed arm as she let go, crying out at the intensity of it all. He pumped a few more times before collapsing on top of her succumbing to his own powerful climax. They laid there connected trying to gain their composure as they held each other.
“I love you,” Bill said.
It was so quiet, that even with his head at the crook of her neck Alma almost didn’t quite catch it. It caught her by surprise. Sure he’d say the friendly, ‘love ya’ but he’d never said those three words to her in that way. Never in that way. But without a second thought, she clearly responded.
“I love you, too.”
PART FOUR
tags: @dreamtherapy @bskarsgardlove92 @tinygayfungi@skarswhat @nutinanutshell @xskarsgardx @reinamysterio @darling-dearest-desired@erika-beau-berika @fine-i-suppose @corlin90 @codependentcellist@loveforbillskasgard@kikilikes@twosupergayghosts @umbriellethenightfall @tigers-pat @imaginingyournotsolikelyfuture
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Stranded Part 2
[NOTE: In this piece there is intense violent and language, if you feel disturbed by this, please don’t read on, otherwise, enjoy!”]
[The song for this one: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WJnrgvivZ1E]
Things at Sanctuary Hills were anything but peaceful. While the Castle was, in name, the main HQ for the Minutemen, Sanctuary Hills was the unofficial HQ due to being the location where the General resided. The Minutemen had, thanks to Kade’s leadership, become a driving force to the Commonwealth again. They’d even secured the pre-war communication towers and restored them to working order so they could have contact with all their settlements. With this new form of communication via Ham-Radio and the communication towers, the Minutemen all over the Commonwealth were freaking the fuck out. There General gone after going on a walk with Dogmeat, insisting that he was fine and didn’t need an escort. At first, Preston and company simply thought that Kade had gotten sidetracked. He was, after all, a capable man, and also extremely curious about the world around him. During his regular walks with Dogmeat, he’d always bring back some little piece of junk, but, always find a use for it in Sanctuary. However, when it was late in the evening and he didn’t come back, everyone began to worry. Then, when a shadowy figure threw a bottle with a note in it over the security gate, Preston’s worst fears were confirmed. They now stood in Kade and Curie’s house, around the dining table, silently considering the badly written note. Preston, Curie, Sturges, Hancock, and a couple of trusted Guards from Sanctuary sat around the table, Mama Murphy sat in a comfortable chair in the corner. “I should've sent a team with him, I should have-” Sturges rested a hand on Preston’s shoulder. “I know buddy, but listen, there’s no reason to think about what we could have done-that can wait until we get him back- let’s just focus on what we need to do now, alright?” Sturges reassured. Hancock crossed his arms, “Damn, if we just knew where he was I’d go over there with my boys and shred those Raiders to bits, ‘sides, who the hell is ‘TT Tireion”?” he asked. No one answered. Curie was beside herself, desperately mulling over the ransom note for any clues as to Kade’s location. She was huddled into a ball-like stance, knees up to her chin, hazel-blue eyes red around the edges from crying, sitting at the head of the table, Kade’s favorite chair. They did not have enough caps for this. They’d spent so much on reparations for the Commonwealth that they only had what was left on reserve, which wasn’t much. Not to mention, the Raiders could hardly count, so they probably wrote down more than they actually wanted. Curie shakily cleared her throat, “Z-zhe letter claims ‘zat they want the payment in front of ‘ze Corvega Assembly Plant, yes? So, it would be assumed he is ‘zere, yes?” she asked, almost begging for her comrades to agree with her. Preston considered the thought, “Raiders are pretty stupid. I wouldn’t put it past them to put the location of where they’re holding the General in their ransom letter.” he said. Curie started to don a hopeful expression, until she saw Preston grimace. “However, I’ve also known some Raiders-not many, but some- to be extremely crafty. I mean, if they were smart enough to observe our General had a habit of walking Dogmeat and catch him when he was most vulnerable, what’s to say it’s not some sort of trick?” Preston said. No one said a word. Curie’s lower lip trembled. She was so, so worried. Her heart cared deeply for Kade, more than anyone before. She could not lose him. He was her rock. While she liked everyone on the settlement, even loved some (like those in the room with her), there was no one else like Kade. No one else she could relate to so perfectly. He had a brilliant mind like hers, a mind that contained pre-war knowledge, just like hers. He was unbelievably kind and patient to those in need, he was passionate about whatever work he was given, and would always care for his friends in the best way he knew how. While her mind was still getting used to the many incredibly intricate details of the human way of life, she knew enough to know that Kade was the most special person to her in the world. There was no one better for the seat of General, or her husband. She needed him back. Now. Hancock spoke up, “Look, yes, they got Kade and that implies that they might know what they’re doing. But, my money is on him being at that Assembly plant. They’re expecting us to think it’s a trick and go somewhere else, but, actually put all their muscle in one obvious spot and hope that their numbers are enough to tank whatever comes.” he turned to everyone in the room. “I’ve dealt with ransoms before. A lot of them. Most of them by raiders. This is how they operate. There’s no point trying to get the caps together. He’s either already dead or beaten to a bloody pulp. Best we can do is storm the place, get Kade, and hope there’s enough stimpacks in the Commonwealth to make him walk again.” Hancock said, his face taking on that of a true leader. This didn’t bode well with Preston, the two began to argue, which led to others butting in, which led to chaos. Curie felt like she could hardly take it. All the worry and sadness made her feel like she was about to explode. Her eyes were malfunctioning for the umpteenth time that day. She was fidgeting with her wedding band excessively. He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t be. Through the arguing she heard something. A bark. Since when did-. She froze. Dogmeat. “Everyone, please! Silence! Just for a moment!” she cried, everyone stopped, staring at her, listening. The barking came closer and more incessant, it was definitely Dogmeat. Everyone ran out of the house at once, the triggermen guarding the door momentarily taken aback at the sudden rush. His armor was heavily damaged and falling off, but, he looked unharmed, his tongue happily sticking out as he ran into Curie’s anxiously awaiting arms. She hugged and scratched him, murmuring “good boy” and other cooing phrases in French. After planting several light kisses on his head, she realized Kade was not with him, another wave of sadness hitting her like a wall. But then she saw Nick Valentine, everyone’s favorite synth detective, cigarette in hand walking towards them. Curie ran to him, chattering a mile a minute about the ordeal and everything they knew. “Alright alright, slow down, kid. Kade’s missing? That’s a shame, wanted to talk to him about a case I’m workin’. Why don’t you have Dogmeat track Kade like he did with Kellog?” he proposed. Curie lit up like a Christmas tree. “Oh monsieur Valentine you are most helpful! I will fetch some clothing of Kade’s at once!” she chirped, dashing back into the house, and out with his favorite pair of shirt and slacks. Dogmeat began his sniffing, going all over the clothing with his nose until he stopped, sniffed once. Twice. Then let out a victorious bark. The group cheered, then began making themselves busy, making preparations to storm whatever hellhole the Raiders had dragged Kade to. As Curie put on her combat armor and checked her laser rifle in Sanctuary’s armory, Hancock came up behind her. “Hey Frenchie” he greeted. Uncharastically, Curie ignored him, focusing on her preparations. Dogmeat sat loyally at her feet, not taking his eyes off of her as she got ready. He raised the skin where his eyebrow would be, “Uh, Curie?” he questioned, a little more loudly. Curie flinched, “O-oh! My apologies Monsieur Hancock, my mind, it’s, well-very clouded, what is it you need?” she apologized. Hancock chuckled, “Hey I get it, sister. Your hubby is a stand up guy and one hell of a leader. When you guys came to have talks with me, I was surprised as hell at his diplomatic skills. I want him back here too, the Commonwealth needs more men like him.” he said, “and more people that really feel me, you know?” he added, to which Curie smiled. “Thank you, Monsieur Hancock, but, I sense ‘zere is another reason you are talking to me, yes?” she replied. He sighed, fiddling with his tri-cornered hat. “Look, it’s gonna be pretty bad in there, yeah? Kade’s a pretty tough cookie, I’ve seen it, but I don’t think you’re gonna wanna be there for this. He’s gonna be messed up. Bad. Worse than you’ve ever seen. You sure you’re prepared for something like that?” Hancock asked, his black eyes looked at her expectantly. She loaded a microcell into her laser rifle, the one Kade helped her create. She turned to Hancock. “I’ve gathered sufficient data to treat any combat related injury. I am necessary to this operation. My husband needs me now more than ever. I will not fail him.” she whispered the last part, her eyes, forlorn, but determined, staring back at Hancock. Hancock laughed, brandishing his double barrel, “Alrighty Cowgirl, let’s shred some Raider ass.” he said sadistically, Dogmeat barked in agreement. “Love the name of your dog by the way.” Hancock said, whispering “Dogmeat” under his breath and smiling. Curie followed Hancock out of the armory. It was time to get Kade back.
#fallout 4#curie#kadesummers#fanfic#prestongarvey#hancock#nick valentine#minutemen#sturges#sanctuary
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Change of Plans
Quick word of warning, this is almost 9k words, so.. know what you’re getting yourself into xD Silver more than made up for not talking to me for a while.
Silver had grown accustomed to many thing in her lifetime. Making her own ship repairs, always being on the move, dealing with scummy contacts, making plans on the fly and altering them even more on the fly. She could spin crap deals into something at least decent, choke down--or enjoy--any number of local delicacies, and suppress her gag reflex with the best of them. Usually.
Today, wading thigh deep through Hutta swamps, was not part of usually.
“I hate this planet,” she groused, forcefully quelling the urge to throw up. “It smells like the south end of a sweaty rancor.”
“It ain’t my favorite either, Sil,” Corso said sympathetically. “And do I wanna know how you know what the south end of a rancor smells like?”
“No, no you don’t.” She waved away a cloud of insects. “How much further?”
He stopped, pulled out a small datapad, and checked. “Just about a dozen yards in that direction.” He pointed the same way they’d been traveling and flashed her an encouraging smile. “We’re almost there.”
“Yeah, but then after the meet up we hafta go back.” As if to further emphasize her point, Silver smacked at something that was biting her neck. “And apparently, the local wildlife isn’t aware that you’re the only one allowed to nibble on me.”
Corso made a sound halfway between a laugh and choking. “How rude of them.”
“I know, right?” She slapped another one on her cheek as they resumed course. “Dammit, what’s got Baz so paranoid? We’ve never had to meet this far off the beaten path-kriffin’ hell!”
The toe of her boot caught on something under water and Silver pitched forward, drenching herself in sour smelling swamp ooze.
“Sil!” Corso hurried toward the spot, but she’d resurfaced by the time he reached her. He grabbed her arm and helped her regain her balance instead. “You alright, gorgeous?”
“Alright, yes. Gorgeous, I don’t think so,” Silver said darkly. “I’m gonna kill Baz.” She ran her hands over her hair to squeeze out as much as she could and than shook it off into the swamp. She coughed, gasped for breath, and dug her fingers into Corso’s arm as she fought her gag reflex. “Hard to believe it was only a month ago we were at a swanky party gettin’ repeatedly thanked for savin’ Corellia and the Republic with it.”
“Does feel like it’s been longer’n that,” Corso agreed. “Prob’ly cause we jumped right back inta work. C’mon, let’s get this meeting over with so we can get back to Angel and I’ll help ya get cleaned up.”
Silver quirked a brow at him, wiping mud off her face. “Ya offerin’ to scrub my hard to reach spots, Riggs?”
He barely blushed. “Maybe a few that aren’t so hard to reach, too.”
“Deal. But first we see what Baz wants.”
>>.<<
The fidgety Mirialan waiting inside the long abandoned hut wrinkled her nose when Silver and Corso walked in. “Ewww, what happened to you?”
“You, Bazeryn Wilas, you happened to me,” Silver snapped back, half tempted to peel off her gloves and drop them on the rickety table for dramatic effect. But they were one of her favorite pairs, so if there was any hope they could be saved she wasn’t giving them up. “What is so kriffin’ important--not to mention secret--that the middle of a frangin’ swamp on Hutta of all places is the only acceptable location for a meet?”
Baz worried a loose stitch on her jacket cuff. “Can’t be too careful. Don’t want anyone t’ think I’m choosin’ sides.”
“Choosing sides?” Silver repeated, skeptical.
“Yer workin’ for the Pubs, ain’tcha?” Baz pointed out. “Gone legit. I don’t want anybody gettin’ the wrong idea about us meetin’.”
“While I see your point,” Silver said slowly. “I take offense at gone legit. My gripe with the Imps was personal. I just took Republic credits to finance it. Why pay for things myself if I can get one of the biggest governments in the galaxy to foot the bill instead?”
Behind her, Corso shifted position and she prayed none of his tells showed enough to give away how close she was walking the line between lie and truth.
“Okay, whatever,” Baz shrugged. “People talk’s all ‘m sayin’. I wanted t’ give ya a tip.”
“About?” Silver prompted. A trickle of swamp water ran down her spine and she fought the urge to wriggle.
“There’s a fella on Denon, needs help movin’ somethin’... sensitive,” Baz said, clearly choosing her words with care.
“Define sensitive,” Silver said, trying to be patient, but it was hard in her current state.
“Who says I know?” Baz retorted defensively.
“Oh, c’mon, Baz,” Silver groaned. It was like pulling teeth. “We worked together enough I know you don’t pass along a job without checkin’ it out first. You’re too careful, too worried a bad job’ll give you a bad rep. What’s so damn sensitive about this cargo?”
“It’s people,” Baz muttered reluctantly, sighing and crossing her arms.
Silver stiffened, eyes narrowing at the other woman. “Oh, hell no! You know I don’t do slaves, Wilas.”
“They’re not slaves!” Baz protested, head snapping up indignantly. “You know me better than that, Airen!”
It’s Riggs now... Even as the words floated through her head, Silver decided this was not the time to offer such a correction. “Well, if not slaves then who are they? I don’t wanna take part in spiritin’ away some serial killer who’s close to gettin’ caught either.”
“Would you listen-” Baz took a deep breath to calm herself. “It’s not slaves, an’ I’m pretty sure it’s not criminals, either. Like you said, I vet things. Couldn’t find much, but there haven’t been many major crimes on Denon recently, violent or otherwise. I think it’s just people tryin’ to get out of a bad situation under the radar. Kids runnin’ from bad parents or somethin’. But I don’t have any solid specifics. You want those you’ll have to contact the guy yourself and ask.”
“Fine,” Silver sighed. It couldn’t hurt to contact the guy. If it was too sketchy she didn’t have to say yes. Besides, she stank of swamp water and it was beginning to make her nauseous. “You know my holofrequency; send me the guy’s info and I’ll get in touch with him.”
Baz nodded. “Will do.”
“C’mon.” Silver tugged Corso’s arm so he’d follow her out of the hut. She waited until they were a good way clear before asking, “So, whaddya think?”
“Oh, there’s somethin’ sketchy about this, Captain,” Corso said, tossing a glance back at the hut. “I don’t think it’s a trap or anything like that, but my gut says there’s more to this than we’re hearin’.”
She nodded. “Knew there was a reason I married you.”
“I always thought it was my stunnin’ good looks an’ sense of humor,” he retorted, grinning.
“Well, them too. But I do love a man who’s perceptive. We can comm Baz’s contact and try to ferret out some more details after we get back to the ship and you make good on your offer.”
Corso chuckled and tweaked the end of her ponytail. “I like this plan, Captain Riggs.”
Silver grinned. “Thought you might.”
>>.<<
All told it took an hour and four uncompromising scrub downs to get the swamp stench off her skin, and another two washes beyond that to get it mostly out of her hair.
“Guess that’ll hafta do,” Silver sighed, sniffing at one of the long, skinny tendrils of wet hair as she untwisted the towel wrapped around her head. “I still smell Hutta.”
Corso laughed softly as he stepped up behind her. “Pretty sure you’re just bein’ paranoid.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tugged her closer, taking a deep breath as her head came to rest against his chest. “All I smell is your shampoo. Considerin’ we used half the bottle just now, that’s no surprise.”
She tipped her head back against his shoulder to fix him with a skeptical look. “You’re just sayin’ that.”
“Have I ever lied to you?” he countered, kissing the top of her head.
Silver grinned, bringing her hands up to rest lightly against his arm. “No.”
“Why would I start now?”
“Good point.” She turned, still standing in his grasp, and Corso’s fingers slid into her hair as she wrapped her arms around his waist. “Yet another reason why I married you.”
“You have quite a list,” Corso teased.
“I have quite a man,” Silver countered. She rocked up on tiptoe to steal a kiss, one hand instinctively grabbing at the towel wrapped around her as the movement loosened it and it started to slip. “We need to get dressed.” She stole another kiss. “Much as I like you in just a towel, I think we should look a tad more... professional when we reach out to Baz’s contact.”
“Whatever you say, Captain,” Corso said with an impish smile. “Your wish is my command.”
Silver flashed an impish grin of her own. “Don’t tempt me.”
>>.<<
The contact info Baz sent was for an audio-only channel. That raised a few flags in Silver’s mind, but actually talking to the man assuaged her worries. Cagey as he was about the origins of the people who needed a “clandestine ride”, much as the charm in her voice reminded her of Darmas, her gut said go with it. Corso agreed. So they arranged to meet the man--Jay, he said they could call him--on Denon and hammer out exact details.
“Why all the secrecy?” Silver asked.
“For their safety, it’s vital they stay as far off the radar as possible,” Jay said. “We want the broken link to stay broken.” And with those cryptic words, he signed off.
“Well, that was an interesting conversation,” Silver said dryly, once the connection was dead.
“Sure was,” Corso agreed. “Not really much we can do ‘til we get there, though. I’m gonna fix up some dinner, you hungry?”
“Nah.” Silver shook her head. “Still nauseous from the swamp stench. Maybe some of that tea we picked up on Voss? I wanna look at the hyperdrive. It was makin’ weird noises our last few jumps, and I’d swear Risha said she’d look at it ‘fore she left, but it happened again comin’ to Hutta.”
“Maybe Angel hates this planet much as you do,” Corso teased, rubbing her back.
“They do say parents’ prejudieces can rub off on their kids,” Silver joked. “She’s the closest thing I got for now, so...”
Corso laughed, giving her a gentle push toward the hallway. “Go check on the baby, then.”
“Yes, dear,” she replied, snickering as she headed for the engine room.
>>.<<
Fortunately, the hyperdrive held up fine for the trip to Denon. The holo blinked as they landed, displaying the image of a man wearing a hooded jacket to obscure his face. It stayed just long enough for an obviously distorted voice to say “Come to these coordinates,” before flickering off.
“I’ll bet you twenty credits this is an SIS gig they’re outsourcing,” Silver commented as she guided the Corellian Angel to a near-perfect landing.
“Don’t say that too loud,” Corso said glibly. “‘Member this is an Imperial-aligned world.”
“Which supports my theory,” she shot back. “Aside from all the cloak-and-shiv nonsense, th’ SIS wouldn’t wanna draw attention to themselves. If we get caught with these people, whoever they are. there’s no tie back to the SIS. We’re just freelancers our ‘cargo’ contracted to get them from point A to point B.”
“I’m not plannin’ to get caught,” Corso said as he wriggled a holdout blaster down into his boot. They’d both agreed--just to be safe--that Torchy and Sparkles should stay on the ship.
“Oh, me neither, obviously,” Silver said as she powered down the Angel and grabbed Flashy to holster. “But I mean just in case. Would be just like a spy to make sure all their bases are covered like that.”
“Only one way to find out,” Corso shrugged. “Where are these coordinates he sent us?”
“Not far from the spaceport, actually, from the look of things,” she replied. “Guess gettin’ to their ride quick is more important than anything else.”
“Either that or whoever they’re runnin’ from doesn’t know they’re gone yet and they’re just coverin’ their tracks for when that happens.”
“Which means they’re someone who’ll be missed,” Silver mused as they headed down the boarding ramp. “Deserters, maybe?”
“I’m all for helpin’ Imps switch sides,” Corso muttered,”but we should prob’ly stow the theorizin’ for now, considerin’ where we are...”
“Good point. So. This world’s a socio-economic trade hub. Tourist talk it is.”
“You gonna let me buy you somethin’ nice this time?” Corso teased, resting an arm loosely around her shoulders.
“You try that on every planet, dear,” Silver shot back playfully. “It hasn’t worked since Calius for a reason. I’m all set on things that sparkle.”
His lips twitched toward a smile at the not-subtle play on words. “Well, then, I’ll just have to adjust my strategy, won’t I, Captain?”
Lightly bantering back and forth, they made it through customs easily, then headed for the coordinates. It turned out to be a mid-scale apartment building only a few blocks from the spaceport.
“I stand by my belief that they’re valuing speed above secrecy,” Silver said in a glib undertone as she and Corso stepped into the turbolift. She pressed the button for the second floor. “Gutsy move if ya ask me...”
The lift reached their desired floor and they found the apartment they were looking for. Silver pressed the comm button next to the keypad and waited, fingers hooked through her belt loops.
“Who is it?” crackled out of the speaker.
“I’m lookin’ for Jay,” Silver replied evasively.
There was a few seconds’ silence, and then a soft beep and whir as the door unlocked and slip open.
“Here goes nothin’,” she muttered.
“Really wish I had Torchy right ‘bout now,” Corso whispered, his fingers twitching restlessly.
“Ditto.” Silver strolled into the apartment with a healthy dose of false bravado.
The only ocupant in the front room was a man who looked roughly her age, with piercing blue eyes and tousled black hair. He had his arms crossed over his chest, his face schooled into a carefully neutral expression.
“You must be Jay,” Silver greeted him breezily. She darted a quick look around the room, noting possible cover--none--and exits--the door behind her and one behind Jay.
“And you must be the esteemed Captain Riggs.” Despite his guarded nature, the smile he flashed was warm enough.
“Or so I claim,” she baited. “I could be anyone, lookin’ for a sweet payoff.”
Jay shook his head, amusement creeping into his eyes. “You’re Riggs. Or is it still Airen? I’ve heard conflicting stories.”
Behind her, Corso shifted, sidling close enough he could swap their positions if things got dicey. “How’re you so sure that’s who she is?”
“Wanted posters, for one.” Jay held up a hand when both Silver and Corso stiffened. “Imperial wanted posters, Captain. Corellia made you a few enemies. But mostly it’s because we have a mutual friend. So I knew what you looked like. Didn’t mention how pretty you are, though.”
Silver snorted. “Save it, Slick. I’m not available.”
“I’m not allowed to compliment without an ulterior motive?” Jay needled good-naturedly. He turned to Corso. “You’re a lucky man.”
“Don’t I know it,” Corso returned coolly. “Whaddidja wanna see us for?”
As if on cue, the door behind Jay slid open and two figures stepped out. Both humans, a man and a woman, with brown hair and dark green eyes. Jay held up a hand, forestalling any comments they were about to make.
“I need you to get them out of here,” he said simply. “So far we’ve avoided Imperial notice, but I don’t see that lasting much longer. If we can do this right, the Empire won’t even know they were here and we can get them safely to the arms of the Republic.”
“And they are...?” Silver prompted, not reading anything beyond nerves from the green-eyed pair.
“Kel and Ezi Stantyn,” Jay replied, gesturing in succession to the man and woman as he introduced them. “Beyond that, all that’s important is the Empire not knowing they’re here. We’ll have to find a way to smuggle them onto your ship so there’s no record of you taking on passengers.”
Silver narrowed her eyes and took a shot. “Bet the SIS is good at that sorta thing, huh?”
Jay blinked, caught off guard for the barest fraction of a second, then smiled. “Heard you were good. Nice to know those reports weren’t biased or exaggerated. Whatever experience the SIS does or doesn’t have in this area, I’m guessing you have more.”
“Damn straight,” she grinned. She’d been right. “Fill me in on what we’re dealin’ with?”
>>.<<
Over the next hour or so, Jay ran them through all the measures and potential loopholes present in the spaceport security system. There were a lot of measures and not a lot of loopholes.
“Do they check delivery personnel?” Silver asked, studying the projected blueprint on the holotable.
“How d’ya mean?” Jay frowned, pursing his lips in thought and cocking his head.
“If, say, my husband an’ I found somethin’ we wanted t’ buy while bein’ all touristy, but it was too big to lug around with us while we browse, so we had it boxed and delivered to our ship. How close would they look at the delivery people? Would they let delivery people in, or is that a droid’s job here?”
“Droids handle deliveries here,” Jay confirmed. “But it was a good idea...” His eyes narrowed. “Although...” he pulled up a closer view of the departing checkpoint and skimmed the specs for the cargo scanner. “How do you feel about exotic pets, captain?”
“Depends on the pet,” Silver replied. “Why?”
>>.<<
A few hours and one winding jaunt through the most blatantly tourist trap parts of the city--which was enough fun to be worth the trip all on its own--Silver’s comlink chirped. She traded a knowing look with Corso and clicked it on. “Yes?”
“Just confirming delivery of your purchases to your ship, Captain Riggs,” a clipped voice reported. “I’d make sure they were secured nice and tight before you take off; one of them looked rather banged-up. Wouldn’t want anything getting loose while you’re traveling.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Silver said. “Long as I don’t return to a ship full of free-range gizka, I’m happy.”
“Very good, ma’am. I hope the rest of your visit is pleasant.” The comlink beeped as the other party signed off.
“That Jay’s idea of an Imperial accent?” Corso muttered, amusement in his eyes.
Silver lightly smacked his arm with the back of her hand. “It was pretty good, when ya take into account regional dialect an’ all. Maybe it ain’t pure Dromund Kaas, but it was good enough. We’ll mosey our way back to the apartment, see if he has any final words of wisdom, and then hotfoot it outta here.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Corso drawled, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “An’ a better one than Jay had for gettin’ our, uh, cargo past the scanners.”
“Hey, I think usin’ the fact they don’t differentiate between life forms was kinda genius,” Silver said impishly. “All they scan for is drugs an’ toxins. Long as neither a’ them show up, security don’t care. An’ it’s not like we came up with anything better.”
“Still just a little too simple,” Corso muttered.
“Nah, long as they don’t have any reason to be suspicious about, they don’t do a full work-up. An’ we aren’t suspicious. We ain’t even the Corellian Angel, if they have that flagged. I used one of those alternate transponder codes Risha left me as a goodbye present. We’re the Silverhawk. Nothin’ flagged on that since we didn’t get caught on the silkworm job. Hopefully we pull this off without gettin’ tagged. I like the Silverhawk.”
“Wonder why...” he teased.
Silver rolled her eyes and was about to retort when she noticed a pair of men staring at her intently. “Uh, sweetheart, is it just my imagination, or are those two abnormally interested in me?”
Corso swiveled casually, hiding his glance behind them by pretending to laugh at something she’d said and pressing a kiss to her hair. “Y’ mean the two sittin’ at that last tapcafe we passed? It’s not your imagination.”
“Guess Jay’s not the only one who saw my wanted posters,” she muttered.
Corso swore under his breath, and settled his arm more protectivel around her. “Change of plans, Sil. We’re goin’ straight back to the ship.”
“No arguments here. I’ll comm Jay, let him know what’s goin’ on.”
“You trust him?” Corso asked, tone neutral--which meant he didn’t, at least not fully.
“He seems like a good guy, an’ Tel’s only had good things to say about the SIS agents he’s worked with.” She snorted softly. “All two of them.”
“Your brother works for Republic SpecForce, Sil. ‘Course he got along with ‘em.”
“It’s sweet that you’re worried, but I don’t think he ratted me out. ‘Sides, doesn’t make much sense to hire me for a job and then sicc bounty hunters on me.”
“True,” Corso admitted sheepishly. “I’m just extra paranoid about the charming ones thanks t’ Darmas.”
“Can’t blame you for that,” Silver said with a nod as they hurried toward the spaceport.
>>.<<
No one stopped them on their return to the ship, but Silver still didn’t waste any time firing up the Angel. It was a good thing, too. Even as the systems spun up to full readiness, she glimpsed one of the men from the tapcafe in urgent conversation with the guards at the hanger entrance.
“Sil.” Corso’s tone made it clear he’d noticed as well.
“I know.” She punched the intercom. “You have ten seconds to get strapped in, or you’re in for a ride!”
She vaguely heard Bowdaar roar something and Guss begin to protest, but blocked it out as she counted as measured a ten count as she could under the circumstances. The moment lights went green, they were moving, fast as Angel could handle.
It was a clean getaway; no officials or ruffled feathers to worry about, but Silver didn’t relax until they hit hyperspace.
“Okay,” she sighed, playing with her ponytail. “We’re good. Next stop, Kerkoidia.”
“Thought we were takin’ em to Naboo,” Corso frowned as he unfastened his harness and moved to lean against the back of her seat.
“We are, but I still need to refuel Angel. Didn’t have time on Denon.”
“We were there for hours, Sil,” Corso pointed out. “How wasn’t there time?”
“Several other ships wanted a refuel, hon. We were fifth on the list. That particular spaceport was small, and can only do one ship at a time, they don’t have a fuel line in every hanger like some of the places we’ve docked,” she explained. “So they hadn’t gotten to us yet. We’re still decent, just can’t get all the way to Naboo. So we hafta refuel somewhere, Kerkoidia’s on the way and Republic-aligned, so it seemed the best choice.”
“Sounds good to me,” Corso nodded. “Now that we’re safe, you wanna let our passengers move to more comfortable quarters?”
“Sure.” Silver punched on the autopilot and stood. “They can have Risha’s room.”
“‘Zat big enough for two people?” Corso said, frowning as he followed her out of the cockpit.
“They only gotta share for a week,” Silver shrugged. “Even if it’s cramped, I’m sure they can manage.”
“What was the deal with that take-off boss?” Guss asked as they passed each other in the corridor.
“Runnin’ from bounty hunters,” Silver said. “Apparently I’m a wanted woman in Imperial space.”
“Fun,” Guss muttered. “Might wanna check our new cargo, make sure nothin’ got busted.”
“That’s what we’re doin’ right now,” Silver nodded. “Why don’t you an’ Bowdaar start workin’ on dinner? We didn’t get much for lunch-” she heard Corso’s stomach grumble as if in agreement-- “an’ we’ll probably eat early.”
“Sure, boss.” Guss headed for the galley as Silver and Corso ducked into the cargo hold. Exactly as she’d been worried, one of the crates had shifted and cracked open during takeoff, and now something like a dozen gizka--slightly daazed--were wandering around the cargo hold.
“Ah, dammit,” Silver muttered, trying to herd the small creatures to a back corner. “Corso, close the door, quick, before any of ‘em get out.”
He obliged, scooping up a gizka as it tried to make a break for it. “Wow, these guys are kinda cute.”
“They’re also a huge pain in the neck,” Silver retorted. “But yeah, they’re pretty cute. Help me get the crates open. We can use the lids to make a barrier, and I’m sure our passengers would like to move to more comfortable quarters.”
Working together, it was easy enough to pry the lids off the two large crates. They tipped them slightly, both to make it easier for the human occupants to climb out and to shunt the gizka occupants behind the makeshift barrier.
“Sorry about... all this,” Silver said to Kel and Ezi once the two were out and standing with her and Corso. “The rough launch, an’ the gizka an’ everything.”
“No trouble,” Kel mumbled, and Ezi nodded her agreement, coddling a runty gizka in her arms as she scratched its ear nubs. The gizka cooed appreciately and looked happy, so Silver didn’t object.
“We can show you your room, and some of my crew are workin’ on dinner.”
Kel and Ezi nodded, gesturing that they would follow her.
Silver laid a hand on Corso’s arm. “Darling, why don’t you go make sure Guss hasn’t lit the galley on fire.”
“Right,” Corso said with a nod. “I’ll take care of that while you get them settled.”
They went their separate ways, Silver making very sure the door closed and locked behind them to contain the gizka before she led Kel and Ezi to their room.
>>.<<
The journey to Kerkoidia was uneventful--unless nausea from Guss’ cooking counted. (Silver had hoped having Bowdaar help him would improve things. It hadn’t. At least she was the only one to get it bad.) Kel and Ezi kept to themselves, spending most of their time in their room, along with the gizka, which Silver was pretty sure Ezi had adopted. Fine by her. One less to worry about. Nothing on the Angel broke or gave them any trouble, and--aside from one near-gizka breakout--Guss didn’t even screw anything up. Kerkoidia Control welcomed them without and holdup and acquiesced easily to Silver’s request for fuel.
“It’ll only take an hour or so to fuel up,” she explained to crew and passengers alike. “So not a lot of time for explorin’. But if you wanna go wander the hanger or spaceport for a change of scenery, go right ahead.”
Unsurprisingly, Guss took her up on it. Equally unsurprising, Kel and Ezi didn’t.
“Suit yourself,” Silver shrugged. “I’m gonna go see if they have any kinda gift shop with knick knacks I could send my brother. If you change your mind, just stay close enough we can find ya when its time to take off.’ She looked at Corso. “You wanna come, hon? Or d’ya feel more like stayin’ to help Bowdaar keep an eye on the ship?”
“Think I’ll stay this time, Sil. Still owe Torchy and Sergeant Boom Boom a good cleanin’.” He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss. “But you have fun.”
She winked. “I am good at that. See ya later, then.” She wasn’t expecting much; Kerkoidia was hardly a major tourist destination. But something little she could send Tel as a joke wasn’t too much to ask for. She hoped.
It wasn’t. While the spaceport’s equivalent of a gift shop was just a nook with one of the locals hawking holoframes with images of the Maldinian City skyline and durasteel or plastiform models of some of the buildings, the prices were cheap. It was good enough for her. After spending a few minutes perusing the wares, Silver selected an extremely gaudy plastiform miniature of the Retail Caucaus building(because what’s the point of a joke gift if you don’t go all out?), paid for it, and headed back to the ship.
As she made her way through the huge, sprawling complex toward her hanger, the first tendrils of unease tugged at the back of Silver’s mind. Something was off. She detoured through the spaceport’s business wing at the last second, and figured out why: she was being followed. The hard-eyed man she’d noted in passing as she left the gift kiosk was lounging against the wall, pretending to be on comms with someone, but clearly darting glances at her. It’s just one guy, I can lose a tail, Silver began to reassure herself as her fingers twitched toward her comlink and she kept walking. But then she noticed the zabrak pretending to scan for an arriving party, but whose eyes continually drifted back to Silver. And then the woman with burn scars on her face, who Silver realized had been loitering outside the hanger bank when she left. Oh, damn.
With three of them following her, this was not just a tail. This was an ambush waiting to happen. And since one of them, at least, knew where her hanger was, they knew this was a detour and had probably caught on that she was wary. Which meant one of two things was likely going to happen very shortly: if they were after her, they would corner her and finish the job, and if they were after something or someone else from her ship, they would fade back and hit the hanger before her crew could prepare.
She increased her pace and reached for her comlink. “Corso, we’ve got a problem...” When she glanced over her shoulder again, all three watchers were gone.
>>.<<
She could hear gunfire before she reached the hanger. Oh kriffin’ hell. Silver’s fingers curled around the hilt of her blaster and she wished in vain for her stealth field generator as she plastered herself against the wall and edged closer to the hanger entrance. Her scattergun would also have come in handy, but she’d left Sparky on the ship in case Corso had time to clean it after he finished with his guns. So it was just her and Sparkles as the ambush for the ambush.
She slid along the wall, fast but quiet, peeked around the corner-
-and nearly butted heads with the zabrak she’d seen earlier. There was a stunned millisecond before both scrambled to get in the first shoot. Silver whipped Sparkles in a hard arc against the zabrak’s temple and the mercenary crumbled. Not before getting off a shot that grazed Silver’s shoulder and blew any hope of sneaking up on the others.
Dammit. Silver hissed in pain and irritation as she brushed her fingers over the fresh welt. It hadn’t done much damage beyond singe the sleeve of her favorite shirt, but she’d been counting on the element of surprise.
A blaster bolt winged off the wall by her head and Silver swore as she dove behind a large duracrete planter. It was lousy cover but she could worry about that in a minute. For now she peeked cautiously between the spiny leaves of whatever was growing on the planter to get the lay of the land.
She could only see the man and woman she’d noticed earlier, no extra back-up, which was good. The level of tactical thinking and the two were showing was not. There were only three of them because they thought three was all they needed.
“Sil?” Corso hollered, voice breaking her reverie.
“Still alive!” she hollered back. She couldn’t get a good angle on either Hard Eyes or Burn Scars from here, and they knew it. Silver looked around for somewhere with decent cover and a better shot, but the nearest thing was a bench almost fifteen feet away. And with the way Hard Eyes kept glancing toward her current spot, even trying for that would be really stupid.
Fortunately, Silver had never been opposed to stupid plans. Hell, half the time she survived because of them, along with a healthy dose of dumb luck. Corso’s gonna yell at me for this, she acknowledged silently, shifting her grip on Sparkles and briefly resting the barrel against her forehead in salute to yet another genuine Silver Airen Stars, I Hope This Works idea. With a deep breath for nerve, she stuck Sparkles around the planter and started firing blindly toward the mercenaries. A couple shot in, she moved from behind the planter and ran like hell for the bench. She heard the snap-sizzle of blaster bolts narrowly missing her as she dropped and slid behind her new cover--which did have a good line of sight on the two mercenaries. They were forced to split their attention between the hanger and her. Hard Eyes swiveled to keep Silver pinned down, while Burn Scars kept firing on whoever was in the hanger; probably Corso and Akaavi.
This could last awhile... Silver thought grimly, popping up to fire off a couple shots at Hard Eyes. Especially since I don’t have most of my gear. She smelled burning hair after Hard Eyes’ return fire and winced. That had been too close for comfort. Clearly, time for another stupid idea. She checked her comlink to see if she could coordinate with her crew this time, but there was just static.
Huffing loose wisps of hair out of her face, Silver pulled the tiny, ancient holdout blaster out of her boot and stared at it. I really wish I didn’t have to do this... She pinned the barrel under her boot and bent it--which was difficult, but not nearly as difficult as she’d expected--before rapping it hard against the edge of the bench. Hope this works. Sorry, Dad. She peeked one last time to verify where the mercs were standing, pulled the holdout’s trigger, and threw it as hard as she could.
For a pair of heartbeats there was nothing. Then an explosion shredded the air and Silver instinctively covered her head. After a moment, she looked around the bench again. Hard Eyes was on the ground, bleeding profusely from all the shrapnel lodged in his head, neck, and shoulder. She couldn’t even tell if he was still alive. Burn Scars was slumped against the wall looking dazed, and Silver was pretty sure she could still see the zabrak’s boots lying prone in the same place as before.
Now or never. Gripping Sparkles tightly, she abandoned her spot behind the bench and charged full-tilt for the hanger entrance. Her path took her directly toward a durasteel crate Corso had probably been using for cover. Rather than skirt it, Silver planted one hand atop the crate and smoothly vaulted over it--
--which turned into a less than smooth landing as pain seared through both her chest and leg and the sharp crack of twn blaster bolts echoed from roughly where she’d left the zabrak.
So. Not unconscious, was all she could think as she hit the ground with a yelp and rolled, her head smacking the floor. She heard Corso swear even as his hand settled on her arm and dragged her into the safety of his cover. “Kriff,” she panted, wincing in pan as her hand curled against her side. “Frangin’ hell. Be a dear and finish them off for me, will ya?”
Corso peeked around the wall and snapped off a few shots, ducking back at the return fire. “They’re dug back in, Sil. An’ you don’t look good. We need to get you outta here.”
“Corso, they’re gonna tag my frangin’ ship!” Silver hissed. “They do that, the transponder codes won’t matter. I don’t want them comin’ after us again in a couple months cuz they think we still have whatever the kriffin’ hell they’re after!”
“What if we do?” he shot back, firing blindly around the corner. “What if they’re after you?”
She snorted and regretted it. Stars, it felt like her ribs were on fire. “Sure, Imp bounty hunters workin’ in Pub space. That’s a worthwhile risk.”
“I’ve seen the bounty on your head, sweetheart,” Corso drawled. “It absolutely is.”
“Oh.” Silver leaned her head back against the wall. “All the more reason to kill ‘em...” Talking hurt, and she let the words trail off.
“Sil?” Corso nudged her with his boot. “Sil.”
She barely found the energy to groan.
“Damn it!” There was the sound of rapid blaster fire, and then a yelp-thud from roughly where Silver remembered Burn Scars being. “Akaavi!” Corso hollered, his arms sliding around her shoulders and under her knees. “See if you can take care of the last one!”
Silver missed Akaavi’s reply, her head lolling against Corso’s shoulder as he picked her up and lit out for the Angel’s boarding ramp. Her head hurt. Hell, all of her hurt. She closed her eyes and held on to Corso’s shirt.
“Sil? Stay with me, darlin’.” Corso pressed a kiss to her forehead as the clank of his boots against the floor underscored his worried tone. “Almost there.”
“Mmm,” she managed as he paused to hit the controls that opened the medbay door. She could feel the vibrations of Angel warmed up and ready. “Make sure... Guss... did it right....”
“I will,” Corso promised as he settled her on the narrow medbay cot. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Be right back.”
“Mmhm.” Silver forced her eyes open as he left the room, and groped for the emergency restraints on the bed. A whimper escaped when one of the straps rubbed the wound in her side, but that was better than landing on the floor when Corso took off. Hope we got enough fuel...
The vague sound of Akaavi yelling, “Go!” reached her, followed by the shift of Angel’s engines ratcheting up, and Silver finally let the darkness win.
>>.<<
The engines had settled into the steady background drone of hyperspace when she came to. The air smelled of kolto and singed flesh, causing her nose to instinctively wrinkle. “...Tell me that moof-milker’s worse off’n me.”
“That moof-milker’s worse off’n you,” Corso said obligingly. His voice was oozing with relief. “Welcome back, sweetheart. You’re not s’pposed to scare me like that, remember?”
“I seem to recall the opposite,” Silver countered, opening her eyes. “I promised to insure you never had a borin’ day again. Ikeep my promises.”
“Maybe in the future, find ways to keep ‘em that don’t involve nearly gettin’ yourself killed.”
She let out a shaky laugh. “No promises. What the frangin’ hell were they after, anyway?”
“Us, I suspect.” The quiet comment was underlaid by the hum of a diagnostic scanner.
Silver turned and saw Kel, brow drawn in a slight frown of concentration as he studied the scanner’s readout. He glanced up at her as he continued, his clipped, precise accent adding extra weight to his words. “The Empire doesn’t look kindly on deserters.”
Silver blinked at him, leveraging off Corso’s arm to try and sit up. “Either I hit my head a lot harder’n I thought, or you just said you’re Imp.”
“Former,” Kel corrected calmly, his accent noticeably less pronounced. “S- Ezi and I are defecting.”
“Doesn’t the military usually handle that? And why’re you takin’ care of me instead of Guss?”
“Only if you have some kind of valuable intel they want, and I volunteered to patch you up. I was my squad’s medic, so my knowledge in the field is slightly more extensive than your Mon Cal’s.”
“He didn’t mind, Sil,” Corso piped up. “Guss said he ain’t used to stuff bad as you got, anyway.”
“But I’m all patched up?” she probed, glancing between Corso and Kel. Her head still hurt, but everything else had faded to a dull ache.
“Sufficiently to make it to Naboo, yes,” Kel said with a nod. “But you should be more careful, Captain. And when we land you should see a doctor.You have good equipment here, but it does have its limits.”
“I’m sure I’m fine...” Silver grumbled under her breath.
“Sil. Just for a check, make sure there’s no surprises waitin’ for us down the road?” Corso said, tone cajoling.
“I’m fine.”
“That’s what you said after Darmas gave ya a concussion,” he countered.” An’ ya weren’t. Please? For me?”
“Oh, you fight dirty, Riggs,” she huffed.
He grinned and kissed her forehead. “Learned from the best.”
>>.<<
Since there wasn’t much else to do for the rest of the trip, Silver agreed to stay in bed and let Corso handle piloting--on the condition she got to hear Kel and Ezi’s story.
They obliged on the counter-condition she got the short version. Born to a moff, raised in the heart of the Empire, patriotic and loyal as could be wished. The first cracks hadn’t appeared until a couple years into Kel’s military service, when a woman who had gone through medical certification with him defected. “They simultaneously tried to cover it up and... investigate the loyalty of any who had worked with her. That’s when I began to question.”
Unbeknownst to Kel, his sister had started doubting at nearly the same time. “I wasn’t anything special; just general infantry, but even with that limited experience, things weren’t sitting right with me; orders we were given, orders we were told to ignore... it made me wonder.” Ezi shifted in her chair. “That first time we had coinciding leave.... it took us almost three days to admit something was bothering us. I finally couldn’t stand it anymore and dragged Av- Kel somewhere private to confess. Once we both came clean, it was a matter of figuring out how to leave without implicating or tipping off our parents.”
“It took almost a year,” Kel picked up, absently cracking his knuckles. “We were kind of stuck, and stumbled across Jon-” he winced. “Jay completely by accident.”
“You two ain’t good at the name thing, are ya?” Silver said with a smile.
“Why do you think we don’t talk much?” he replied wryly. “We’ve been Avrin and Saskia our whole lives. Do you think you could just start calling someone in your family by a different name after more than two decades? Kel and Ezi haven’t been to slip into, but we’re working on it.”
“You make a very good point,” Silver conceded, rubbing the general area of the synthskin patch on her thigh. The blaster burn underneath itched something awful. “I don’t think I could swap just like that. But movin’ on with your story?”
“There isn’t much more to it,” Ezi shrugged, tuckign her hair behind her ear. “Jay works for the Republic and has some underworld connections, at least on Denon. So he got us forged identification papers and covert transportation from Ziost to Denon, where we holed up until he found someone who could get us away from there.” She gestured toward Silver. “You came along and here we are.”
“And the bounty hunters came from where?” Silver hinted. “An’ how d’ya know they’re after you?”
“I peeked out,” Ezi said sheepishly, waving off her brother’s brewing protest even as he opened his mouth. “Once your crew was returning fire. I recognized the woman. They are--or were, rather--part of Krath’s Fangs, an elite mercenary company our father used as personal security. I don’t know how they found us, because we were positive no one knew we were on Denon.”
“However they found us, they’re dead now,” Kel said. “And we should let Captain Riggs rest, Ez.”
She nodded. “Sure. Thank you for getting us out, Captain. I’m sorry you’re paying such a price for it.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Silver assured her. “I’ve had worse days.” Not by much, but I have.
Ezi didn’t really look like she believed her, but didn’t argue the point, either, instead following Kel out of the medbay.
>>.<<
They arrived on Naboo on schedule and without any evidence they were being tracked or followed. Kel and Ezi thanked Silver “and really, your whole crew” profusely one last time before leaving to met the contact who was going to help them settle in, Ezi still carrying the gizka.
After the brother and sister were out of sight, Corso turned to Silver. “Alright, Captain, I believe you promised to go see a doctor when we landed.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Silver huffed, leaning against him to keep weight off her bad leg. “There’s gotta be a lot of doctors on Naboo, though; gonna take a while to find-”
“Here.” Corso grinned as he held out a datapad. “Took care of it while we were en route. You’re seein’ Dr. Stella Viks in an hour.”
Silver blinked as she took the datapad. “You-”
“-were expectin’ you to worm out of it, yes.” He was still grinning, damn him. He knew her entirely too well. “I worry about you, Sil, an’ wanna be sure you’re okay.”
“Well, I guess I can appreciate that,” she conceded with false reluctance. “Come with me?”
“Course.” He tugged gently on her ponytail. “Love ya.”
“Love you, to.”
>>.<<
Dr. Viks’ office was professional and neat--enough so to make Silver fidgety. She felt as if disturbing anything could quite possibly get her arrested or something. Irrational, yeah, but she couldn’t help it. It was a relief when her name was finally called and she headed back to one of the exam rooms, Corso firmly in tow. She wanted to say she wanted him there so when the doctor confirmed she was fine, it would be that much easier to rub in his face, but there was a nervous twist in her gut that belied the thought.
Dr. Viks was waiting when they reached the room. “Ms. Riggs?”
“Captain,” Silver corrected automatically, then winced apologetically. “Sorry, habit.”
“That’s alright,” Dr. Viks assured her, gesturing for them to take a seat. “There isn’t much here.” She set down the datapad she’d been reading. “If you prefer Captain, then Captain it is. What’s the reason for your visit today?”
“We got in a bit of a shootout with some no-goods who were after our cargo at our last stop, an’ my husband wanted me to get checked over by a doctor. Make sure the patchin’ up I got was good enough,” Silver explained, squeezing Corso’s hand.
“Smart man,” Dr. Viks said with a smile. “What injuries do you sustain in this shootout?” She turned on and started calibrating a fancy-looking scanner as she listened to Silver’s reply.
The redhead paused for a beat before reeling off, “They winged m’ shoulder, got me good in the side an’ leg, and I banged my head pretty hard when I hit the ground.”
“Noted,” Dr. Viks nodded, and began her examination, a combination of using the scanner and physically checking the injuries Silver had mentioned. “Whoever patched you up did a good job,” she commented. “They must’ve had some training.”
“Former army medic,” Silver said, biting her lip as the doctor’s fingers ran over the goose egg above her ear.
“That would explain it.” The scanner beeped and Dr. Viks examined the screen. “Alright. Everything looks fine... there are the injuries you mentioned, but they’re all healing nicely. The bump on your head is the extent of it; there’s no deeper issues there.”
“Then what’s with the feelin’ sick and losin’ her balance?” Corso asked. “I mean, there was a little after Hutta, but y’know, Hutta’ll do that to ya. It’s been worse the past couple days, so I thought for sure it had to do with the bump on her head.”
Silver huffed. You’re being overprotective again. “I told you that’s nothin’ hon. Hutta swamp water an’ Guss’ cookin’- what?”
Dr. Viks was looking at her in amused surpprise, gaze flicking to the scanner screen as she formed her next sentence. “You didn’t know you’re pregnant, Captain?”
Silver and Corso’s hands tightened on each other til their knuckles were white, Silver’s free hand instinctively pressed against her stomach. She blinked at the doctor, trying to process, to breathe.” I... did not. How... How far along...?”
“About ten weeks, from the look of things,” Dr. Viks replied. “This isn’t really my area of expertise. I can take care of some basics, since you’re here, but you really should find a doctor who specializes in obstetrics. I can give you some names on Naboo, if you like, or you can use the holonet to find one on your home planet, if you prefer.”
“We’ll do the latter, I guess,” Silver mumbled, still shellshocked in the best possible way. “But if you could tell us if it’s healthy....” I was pregnant on Corellia. The utter chaos of her war-zone exploits flashed through her mind and she very nearly panicked. “Make sure I haven’t screwed it up?”
Dr. Viks chuckled and nodded. “Of course.”
As the doctor adjusted settings on the scanner, Silver finally turned to look at Corso. His expression was mix of looking like someone had smacked him in the gut with a power prybar and pure, unbridled joy.
She cleared her throat. “So, I’m guessin’ this is okay with you?”
Corso opened his mouth and tried to start a sentence twice with no sound coming out before giving up. He cupped her face in both hands and kissed her soundly instead. When he finally pulled back to put the barest distance between them, he whispered hoarsely, “What do you think?”
Silver smiled and brushed his cheek with her thumb. “I think you’re gonna be a great dad. And if you smile any wider, you’re gonna rip your face in half.”
He chuckled as they both sat back. “Can’t have that.” He reached over and rested a hand on Silver’s belly. “Gotta be there for my kid.”
Once Dr. Viks had the scanner properly adjusted, it didn’t take long to confirm that the baby was perfectly fine--a minor miracle, far as Silver was concerned. “Do you want to know girl or boy?” Dr. Viks asked.
Silver looked at Corso, saw matching uncertainty in his eyes, and shook her head. “Not right now. We can’t unlearn it once we know, so we should prob’ly be sure first?”
“I understand completely,” Dr. Viks assured her, powering down the scanner. “Unless you have any more questions for me, I think we’re all done.”
“Nope, I’m good.” Silver slid her hand into Corso’s and gave it a squeeze. “’Sides, we have a lot to talk about. Thank you for all your help, Doctor.”
“It’s what I’m here for,” Dr. Viks said with a smile. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” Silver said, slightly dazed as reality started sinking in, but still unable to stop grinning.
>>.<<
They spent the entire trip back to the Angel in silence, and didn’t say a word until they were back in their cabin.
“So...” Silver began. “You’re really okay with this?”
“Hell, yes,” Corso said fervently, pulling her into a hug. “Sil, you know how bad I want kids.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t know if you wanted ‘em now or down the road a little,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist.
He kissed the top of her head and moved them to sit on the edge of their bed. “I wanted ‘em when we got ‘em. Trust me, darlin’, I’m ecstatic. Is this... are you okay with this? You’re gonna be doin’ all the work.”
Silver laughed giddily. “Kriff, yeah. I love you, and any kids we have are gonna be so frangin’ awesome.” She paused for a second, rubbed one hand over her abdomen. “Guess I have to avoid runnin’ gun battles now, huh?”
“Yeah, I think it’s best to avoid shoot-outs of all kinds while pregnant,” Corso chuckled, kissing her forehead.
She grinned giddily again. “I’m pregnant. We’re gonna have a baby.” She gasped and shot to her feet. “I gotta call Tel! And my parents-” Her expression sobered. “D’you... wanna tell Rona? I know you two’re mendin’ fences...”
“Not sure if we’re there yet,” Corso admitted, squeezing her hand. “Go call your family, though. They’re gonna be so happy.”
She bent down for another kiss, her grin back when she straightened. “Tel getsta be an uncle. He’s gonna kriffin’ flip.” She paused on the way out of the room. “You can tell the rest of the crew while I tell him. If you want?”
Corso grinned as he stood. “Deal.”
That settled, Silver limped toward the cockpit to call her brother. Sure, this was going to change everything, but in the best way possible.
She couldn’t wait.
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First Contact (Dyrihm Personal Event Log, Part 1)
Dyrihm’s personal event- a months-long endeavor- recently wrapped up with the [Charnel Corps]! For those interested, a series of logs, both of the two major finale events, and the various lead-up mini events, will be posted over the next few days and weeks.
In this installment, Dyrihm hears the first rumblings of danger, as Nob receives a mysterious letter that indicates the Ebon Blade is sniffing around- for a traitor.
A neatly handwritten letter arrives, nestled into Nob's post box. It smells faintly of candlewax and feels slightly of shadow.
I am writing on behalf of the Ebon Blade, it begins, without preamble, with regards to Knight Dyrihm. It has been exceptionally difficult to obtain personal opinions and insight from his contemporaries in your reserve corps, and I hope you will be able to assist. My contacts in the organization have expressed a desire to learn more about Knight Dyrihm, and have taken notice of his initiative in working with the Forsaken during fallout of unrelated Ebon operations. In particular, they are curious as to the nature of this Knight's connections with members of your corps, as they have taken an interest in fostering further join efforts with the Forsaken.
Thank you for your assistance,
Father Trevarde
An address in the Undercity is stamped below.
Jackdaw comes busting into the courtyard with a letter in his hand- he marches toward Dyr immediately upon spotting him, rasping, "Dyrihm! You oughta see this!" Unfortunately, he has entirely forgotten to be visible.
Dyrihm is outside again today, this time clearing out a large corner of the garden. A kodo munches contentedly on something nearby. He whirls, recognizing the voice this time. "Nob?" His eyes scan the yard. "Can't see you, so that's a little hard at the moment..."
Jackdaw sounds embarrassed, flickering into sight right in front of Dyr with his head ducked sheepishly. "But- here. I jes got this in my postbox."
Jackdaw offers out a rolled-up letter.
Dyrihm takes it, brows furrowed. He looks concerned, but as he reads it, his expression changes- surprise, fear. This isn't what he was expecting. "This is about me," he states, more than asking. He looks pale.
[Jackdaw]: What the fuck're the Blade fishin' around about you for, Dyr?
Jackdaw sounds worried. He tugs at his gloves, his little nervous tic.
Dyrihm sounds worried, too. "I- I'm not sure." He makes a strange noise in his throat. "That's a lie. I have some ideas, I- Oh, Light, this could be bad." The Knight takes a deep breath. "They've always been worried about whether I lean Blade or Forsaken," he says, finally. "And I've- well, I've done some things for the Corps that they wouldn't be happy with."
[Jackdaw]: Well they kin fuck right off! You got an official position an' all, right? You don't- they ain't-
Jackdaw sputters.
[Jackdaw]: I ain't gonna snitch on you, Dyrihm!
Dyrihm blinks. "I don't- Nob, I don't think you- I have an official position, yes, but I've been digging into Ebon business for the Corps for months! I helped Rey -steal- his runeblade back from them! We faked him nearly killing me so he could escape, if they find out-" He sighs. "I don't think you're going to snitch on me. But the less you give them, the harder this... Trevarde is going to dig, I'm sure."
Jackdaw grabs the letter back suddenly, points at one of the first lines. "Well what's THIS bit mean? This 'exceptionally difficult' shit?" He fakes a haughty voice on the quoted words. "Who's he talked to?"
Dyrihm 's mind is clearly racing. Nob's seen him distressed before, but never this nervous. "I don't know! This is the first I'm hearing of it!" He loses even more color. "What if- no, 'exceptionally difficult,' no one's said what he wants." He runs his hands through his hair, heaving a sigh. "Light, I hope he hasn't talked to Rey. What if he realized Wraith has been here the whole time? Working with me?"
Jackdaw offers the letter back out to Dyr; you keep this. "Odds are they tried Varun or Maulfalcon an' got stonewalled- but ya think they'd fuckin' say somethin-!" He pauses. Well, you'd think MAUL might say something. Hael...
Dyrihm frowns. "Maybe he knew better than to try someone who could stonewall him. But I don't know... you would think they'd say something, I- ' fallout of unrelated Ebon operations,'" he mutters. "That was the Scarlet attack. I was supposed to retreat to Acherus with the rest, instead I warned Brill and got all of you. That was weeks ago," he says, with some horror.
Jackdaw hisses, "You sayin' they was jes gonna let that HAPPEN? There's still civvies in Brill- not like they use'ta have before the Apothecarium took over, but- Light damn it!"
Dyrihm shakes his head. "Blade doesn't care about anything these days unless it can help them fight the Legion. Seems like every day they're jumping more to the Lich King's tune." He sounds more sad than scared, now. "We were supposed to be in and out."
Jackdaw cusses under his breath. "Fuck yer new Lich King."
[Dyrihm]: No kidding.
[Dyrihm]: What's the point of throwing everything at the Legion if we're not going to be left with anything worth protecting? It's stupid.
[Jackdaw]: Well- piss it. They got somethin' on ya, they can shove it up their cold Knight arses.
Dyrihm grunts. "Doubt it's going to be that easy. Just- don't tell him about Rey. Fuck, or Frost. He's... not exactly an Ebon Blade friendly, either." Dyrihm looks stricken.
Jackdaw 's lack-of-face screws up in concern. Still weird. "If ya want me t'talk to 'im I'll say whatever ya want, mate." A slight pause. "How's it been with... yanno. This new guy in yer heads. I know it's what was givin Frost trouble. Is that still...?"
Dyrihm frowns. "It's... it's been a little better. I think getting out to Mulgore for a while helped Frost, and having some familiar things at home. He's still getting the nightmares, but nothing as bad as before." The Knight gives Nob a sheepish look. "'Course, after the other night, I've started up again with my own. We make quite a pair."
Jackdaw nods, serious and sympathetic. "I got somethin' for ya. I'll bring it by later- I keep bloody forgettin' cause... so much's happened. But I got a new batch'a sleep potion brewed up. Should be strong."
Jackdaw mutters aside, "Should be real fuckin strong, 'cause it kept reducin' while I was out..."
Dyrihm snorts. "I'll save it for Frost, then, see how long it keeps him out for, before I try it myself." Nob gets a smile out of him. "Thanks."
Jackdaw shakes his head, dismissive. "Ain't nothin- happy t'help. Lemme know how it does, so I know if I gotta tweak the next batch."
Dyrihm nods. "Will do." He waves the letter. "I'll, uh- hold on to this, for now. Might see if Varun knows anything, or..." He peers at the stamped address. "Drop by myself."
Jackdaw grimaces. "Not on yer own yer not."
Dyrihm sounds dismissive. "What's he going to do, kidnap me in the middle of the Undercity? He sounds like a priest- 'Father' Trevarde."
Jackdaw rasps unhappily, "If he's workin' with the Blade an' he's still using a title like that, might be a Necromancer or somethin'. Or just a stuck up ponce. I jes don't like it, Dyr. Whole thing stinks."
Dyrihm sighs. "I know. I promise, I'll be careful. Keep my comm on me at all times, and all that."
Jackdaw gives Dyr a Look and- vanishes abruptly, to make a point. "You sure y'dont want backup?"
Dyrihm laughs, and smiles. "All right, maybe. But I don't plan on taking you anywhere near some Light-slinger if I don't have to, all right?"
Jackdaw seems amused, but he gets u. "My best bloody friend's a Light slinger. I manage, don't I? Don't be a prig 'bout keepin yer problems to yerself like everyone in this bloody unit, or I'll- fuckin' tattle t'Maul and let him get revenge."
Dyrihm looks a little taken aback, opening his mouth, and then closing it again. "It... would be pretty damn hypocritical of me." He laughs, in spite of himself. "Fair enough! I'll see what I can find out about this guy, and I'll let you know if I plan to go knock on his door. Or, hell, if I plan to get someone else to knock on his door."
Jackdaw appears again, and produces an amused salute. "You want me t'reply to 'im? I kin string him along with whatever shit you want."
Dyrihm considers. "Best lie is always partially true. If you send him a reply... tell him I act above and beyond strict duty, and my focus on individuals makes me a trusted representative of the Blade. None of that should get me in trouble, but it seems like it'll be a little more than he's gotten so far. Tell him I'm always 'forthcoming,' that'll give him something to chase. Maybe he'll waste time seeing if I've been leaking info instead of looking into Rey."
[Jackdaw]: Yeah. That'll do, sure.
Dyrihm looks relieved. "Nob- thank you."
Jackdaw nods. "Wouldn't do nothin' less." He sighs and chews a ghostly lip. "I'm gonna hafta go t'Varun with this though. I don't report shit like this, I'm gonna get my ass handed t'me."
[Jackdaw]: Could bring ya with me, so we all... we're all on the same page. Y'know.
Dyrihm nods. "I'll need to talk to him myself anyway- but I wouldn't want to overwhelm him right now. He's... you know. Having a rough time."
[Jackdaw]: Fuck- yeah. You know how he is, always got that wall up, but- y'can tell he's holdin' back somethin' fierce.
Jackdaw grimaces, some personal misery sneaking into his expression. "I ain't real keen t'go bother 'im again soon myself."
Dyrihm nods again. "Maybe this can wait."
Jackdaw is clearly in agreement. "Little while. Long as we do it 'fore you try 'an talk to this Father wossname.
Dyrihm smiles. "I'll wait, won't do anything stupid. I promise."
Jackdaw smiles back, faintly cheeky.
[Jackdaw]: Better fuckin' not.
[Dyrihm]: Besides, if he's been sending this out starting with that Scarlet shit, he's being patient himself.
Jackdaw makes a face. A patient enemy is not a good enemy.
Dyrihm sees that face. "Look, it's not gonna blow up overnight, is all."
Jackdaw mutters, "You'd be surprised." He glances back toward the city proper. "Maybe I oughta go grab those potions for ya."
Dyrihm nods. "If you don't mind? Be nice to have something to put my mind at ease, after all."
Jackdaw nods. "I'll stop by later. Take care, mate."
[Dyrihm]: You too, Nob.
Jackdaw flickers and vanishes with a nod.
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